Page 28 of Scornful

I nod, and he pulls it over my head, leaving me in my simple black bra.

The way he sucks in his breath sharply gives me the boost of confidence I need.

"Christ, look at you," he murmurs, eyes darkening as they travel over my exposed skin. "Så vakker."

"What does that mean?" I ask, my voice small.

"So beautiful," he translates, hands spanning my waist. "In the old language."

His palms slide up, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts, sending shivers racing across my skin.

"Can I see all of you?" he asks, and the need in his voice makes it impossible to feel self-conscious.

I nod, reaching behind me to unhook my bra.

The straps slide down my arms, and then I'm bare from the waist up, exposed to his hungry gaze.

"Perfect," he says again, and the way he's looking at me—like I'm something precious, something to be worshipped—makes me believe him. "Absolutely fuckin’ perfect."

His hands cup my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples until they harden into tight peaks.

I can't hold back a small moan, which seems to trigger something primal in him.

With a growl, he lifts me easily, carrying me to the couch and laying me down gently.

He hovers over me, his body a wall of solid muscle, before lowering his head to my breast.

The first touch of his mouth sends waves shooting straight to my core.

"Geirolf," I gasp, arching into him.

"I've got you, princess," he murmurs against my skin. "Just enjoy this."

And I do.

I feel everything—the scrape of his beard against my skin, the hot suction of his mouth, the gentle pressure of his hands as they explore my body.

He throws attention on my breasts until I'm squirming beneath him, desperate for more.

When his hands move to the button of my jeans, I lift my hips, urging him on.

He slides them down my legs, along with my underwear, until I'm completely naked beneath him.

He sits back on his heels, eyes roaming over me with such need that I fight the urge to cover myself.

"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" he asks, his voice rough. "How many times I've dreamed about you like this?"

I shake my head, unable to speak as his hands start a slow journey up my legs, from ankles to calves to thighs, spreading them gently as he goes.

"I'm going to show you," he promises, settling between my legs. "Going to make you feel so good,minn."

The first touch of his mouth against my pussy has me crying out, hands flying to grip the back of his head.

He doesn't rush, starting with gentle, exploratory licks that quickly build as he learns what makes me gasp and moan.

I've never experienced anything like it—the skilled precision of his tongue, the way he seems to know exactly where and how to touch me.

It's not long before I'm trembling on the edge, my hips moving restlessly against his mouth.

---