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“I saidnow,” she managed, her breaths coming in quick gasps. The need for release was overwhelming. The knowledge that this was her assassin, the man who’d tried to kill her, whose blood she so yearned to spill, only sharpened her desire.
Rune chuckled, moving his mouth down her belly, leaving wet marks on her flimsy underclothes where he kissed her.
“Or is it the danger that you like?” he asked, nuzzling the inside of her thigh. “The brush with death that makes you wet?”
Both, she thought, or said aloud — she couldn’t tell. Sheneeded…
But as he spoke, almost casually, Rune pulled her underclothes aside and buried two fingers deep inside her.
The surprise of it drew a moan from Elma’s lips, and she couldn’t help but angle her hips to take his fingers deeper. They were long and deft, stroking the inside of her until she could hardly think.
“God, you’re soaking,” he murmured, dragging his teeth along her thigh where he’d kissed her. “Sweet, depraved creature. I’ve never met anyone with such bloodlust.”
Slowly, he eased another finger inside her. She bit her own lip until tears came to her eyes, desperate for more. She had never needed anything as badly as she needed this. Neededhim.
“I ordered you to make me come,” she said, surprisingherself by how steady her voice sounded, even with three fingers deep inside her. “Not tease me.”Please.
“The dangerandthe blood, then,” he breathed, easing his fingers in slowly, deeper, then out again. So softly it was tantamount to a breath of air, Rune’s thumb brushed her clit.
Elma’s back arched with pleasure. Even the softest touch from him was ready to undo her. “No,” she said, needing more. Needing to know that he was hers, utterly, in this moment. She needed him to worship her. “With yourmouth.”
Rune seemed unable to contain the groan he let loose. “Elma,” he said, his breath hot on her thigh. He stayed there for a moment, breathing hard. At last, he said, “I want… But you nearly died. If I hadn’t been… And tomorrow, you… There’s blood every… I—”
She raised herself up on her elbows to look at him. He looked absolutely wrecked, his cheek pressed to the inside of her leg, his expression both desperate and so full ofwantthat it nearly overwhelmed her.
And all the while, his fingers continued their slow, rapturous stroke inside her, bringing her too close to the edge. And those two words rang in Elma’s ears:I want.
“Stop talking,” she said, “and do something useful with that tongue.”
It was all the encouragement he needed. He seemed to collect himself, and a smile curled his eager lips. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
He removed his fingers from her slowly, leaving her bereft. But it was only for a moment. Gripping her thighs with strong fingers, Rune wasted no time in opening her legs, lowering himself until he was practically groveling before her.Exactly where he belonged. From where Elma lay writhing in anticipation, she was almost certain that the blood had spreadacross the floor, that Rune was half-kneeling in it. She wondered if it was still warm. If he could feel it seeping through the knees of his armor.
And then he pressed his mouth to her, a gentle yet insistent kiss, and she was overcome with him. He moved slowly at first, a rhythmic press of lips and tongue, drawing pleasure from her like a ribbon from a spool.
Elma rocked her hips against his mouth, the ache ever building in her belly. She couldn’t believe that this insistent mouth of Rune’s, unspeakably intimate, belonged to her assassin. Her protector. Her enemy.
Hers.
And then his tongue, at last, wiped her mind clean of all conscious thought. He licked her opening long and slow, and when she thought she might combust with the pleasure of it, he plunged his tongue deep inside her.
The perfect, full sensation almost brought tears to her eyes.
“Fuck,” she bit out, slamming her palm against the wall behind her to brace herself.
“That’s the idea,” Rune chuckled before circling her clit with his tongue and sucking hard.
There was nothing left but pleasure after that. Elma could not think, could hardly breathe. It was as if she were dying again and again, losing herself in the fog of the tightness building between her legs. Losing herself in Rune. And as Elma’s movements became more insistent, more erratic, he held her hips with firm hands, his mouth and tongue urging her, drawing her forth.
When at last she reached the apex of her orgasm, waves of hot, vibrating sensation rippling inward to a euphoric release, Rune held her. He kissed her hot skin. Murmured meaninglesssyllables into her thighs until she stopped crying out, until her gasps subsided.
Then Rune sat up, his eyes bright. He eyed her intently, his own pupils blown wide, chest heaving.
He opened his mouth as if to say something, but before he could speak, a knock sounded at the door.
Elma and Rune’s eyes met in mute horror.
“One moment,” Elma called, wondering who could be at the door at this hour.
