Page 69 of The Viking in the Vault
I groan, my fingers tightening against her shoulders as I fight the urge to thrust forward. “Elena?—”
She pulls back slightly, her breath warm against my skin. “Good?” she asks, her voice softer now, curious, her fingers still wrapped around me.
I huff out a laugh—a shaky one. “Good? Fenvarra, you are ruining me.”
Her lips curve, and then—then—she takes me deeper.
My vision blurs. My head falls forward, my breath leaving me in a harsh exhale. Fucking hell. Her tongue swirls around me, her lips stretching as she hollows her cheeks, and I nearly lose myself right then.
My hands find her hair, not to force her—never—but to anchor myself. “Sweet gods,” I pant, barely holding myself together. “You—you take me so well?—”
Elena moans softly around me, and I snap.
Not in a way that frightens her—not in a way that pushes her too far—but in a way that breaks my restraint.
I guide her pace, my hands trembling in her hair as she works me, her tongue teasing, her lips tightening. She watches me through her lashes, her eyes dark with determination and desire, and something primal in me howls.
She is mine.
She wants this.
She wants me.
And gods, I am undone.
“Elena,” I warn, my voice a ragged growl, my control fraying. “If you do not stop, I will?—”
Her lips come free with a pop, her hand stroking me faster. “I want you to come in my mouth,” she rushes out, finally being explicit in such a way that makes me feral with lust. “Please, Ragnar. I want to make you feel good.”
I snarl, my hands tightening in her hair, my entire body shuddering at her words. My breath leaves me in a ragged groan as she takes me into her mouth again, her tongue flicking, her lips sealing tight around me as she moves with slow, devastating purpose. She’s still learning, still finding her rhythm, but she is so eager, so determined, and gods—I cannot hold back.
“Elena,” I grit out, my voice nothing but gravel, rough and fraying at the edges. “Fenvarra?—”
She moans, her free hand sliding around to grasp my backside so I cannot escape her, forcing me deeper into her throat. Her tongue presses against the underside of my cock, her hand pumping the length she can’t fit, her pace quickening, pushing me toward the edge. Her lips are wet, her mouth hot and slick, her throat swallowing around me, and I?—
Gods help me.
I yank hard on her hair, my muscles locking tight, my whole body tensing as I fight against the urge to thrust deep—to let myself go entirely. But I can’t—not yet. Not until she knows exactly what she’s doing to me. I tilt her chin up, forcing her to look at me, and gods, the sight of her—her lips stretched around me, her eyes glazed with pleasure and pride—it utterly destroys me.
“You want it?” I rasp, barely holding on. “You want to taste me, mate?”
She moans in response, her fingers digging into my thigh, her mouth sucking harder, her cheeks hollowing, and I?—
I snap.
I growl, deep and feral, my cock twitching on her tongue, my whole body shuddering as my climax slams through me with bone-rattling force. I barely manage to warn her before I come, my hands tightening in her hair, my breath leaving me in a guttural exhale as pleasure rips through me.
And Elena—gods, Elena—she takes it all.
She swallows me down, her lips tightening, sucking, drinking as I shudder through the aftershocks. She doesn’t pull away, doesn’t flinch—she just takes, her hands gripping my thighs, milking every last drop from me until I am left standing there, dazed, panting.
I blink down at her, trembling, spent.
I’m still shaking as I reach for her. My strength has been tested in battle, in hardship, in war—but this, what she has just done to me, has undone me in a way I never expected.
I don’t rush. I don’t move with urgency. I move with purpose.
Elena watches me, her lips swollen, her cheeks flushed, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. I reach down and lift her easily into my arms to bring us both under the covers, and she lets out the smallest, softest sigh when I settle her against the pillows.
