Page 74 of Ironling
A little tug on his tunic brought his attention back to her.
“Kiss me,” she whispered, breath honey-sweet from mead.
“Because you’re jealous of your friend getting married?” He didn’t care, not truly, not after the garden, but he still needed to know. He was playing this game to win.
“Because I want you to kiss me.”
A rumbling purr rattled to life in his chest, and he dipped his head even lower. She got on her toes to meet him, and although the angle put a crick in his neck, it was one of the best moments of Hakon’s life.
Their lips met in shy reunion, tentative and soft. He tasted the mead on her lips, yes, but alsoher.
His beast needed nothing else.
Straightening to his full height, out of her reach, his gaze devoured her.
She pouted up at him, misunderstanding why he pulled away. Then, she gasped in delight when he bent to pick her up and carry her.
“Fine,” she sighed into his neck, pressing a kiss there that made him shudder with need, “I’m a little jealous of her gettingwedded. But more so that she’s getting bedded.”
Hakon’s groan was long and with feeling. He hustled her to the far side of the stable, where great bales of hay were stacked neatly. He lifted her onto one pile before climbing up on the one below it. Sitting like that, tucked away in the hay, they were nearly the same height.
Her smile was wide and full of joy, drawing him back into her glow. Her hands sought his face, cupping his jaw to pull him nearer. He rested his arms on the hay around her, the fine fabric of her gown teasing his skin.
“Are you not a little jealous that they get to make love all night?” she whispered against his lips.
“Intensely,” he said. “But if it was me, with my beautiful mate, it wouldn’t be a night of making love.”
“No?” She carded her fingers through his hair, her soft gaze watching her work. “What then?”
“Nothing but rutting.”
He filled his hand with her waist, feeling her warmth and how her breathing stuttered at his words. Those plush lips parted, and he couldn’t resist any longer. He swooped in and claimed them, savoring her taste.
Gone was the shyness of before. He devoured her, claiming and tasting and gorging himself. She gasped against his lips, her nails scraping against his scalp.
His cock kicked in his trou, overeager for her, but—Not yet. Not yet.
He had wooing to do first.
Pulling her closer across her bale, Hakon drowned in her taste and feel and scent. She was everything he’d wanted for so long, he hardly believed he held her, warm and enthusiastic, in his arms. She squirmed and pressed against him, her hands exploring the length of his neck and width of his shoulders.
He lived for the little noises she made deep in her throat,wanted to swallow them down with her taste and hold onto them forever. He chased every one, needing another, greedy for all she could give him.
The night around them was cool and purple-tinged, almost like a dream. It was a dream to him, and he prayed to the old gods he’d never wake.
Her blunt teeth caught his lower lip and tugged, inciting a growl of lust. He answered by running his hand up her waist to her breast, daring to tease his fingers across the neckline of her gown and then down, finding the needy point of her nipple through the fabric.
She gasped against his mouth, a decadent moan escaping her lips. He kissed her chin, her jaw, down her neck. Aislinn exposed her throat to him, and he lavished her with his tongue for the show of trust. He kissed and sucked at her pulse, feeling how it throbbed under his lips, before straying lower.
Her fingers clutched at his shoulders as his lips skimmed across the petal-soft tops of her breasts. He knew they’d be a perfect handful and watched as his green thumb teased at the embroidered, plunging neck of her gown. It was delicious and wicked to see the contrast of their skin, how the night rendered him nearly as dark as the forest while her peachy skin almost glowed in the moonlight.
Fates, she’s so beautiful it hurts.
Her hand came to rest over his, pressing it to her breast. She moved again in that needy way of hers, and he felt her groan of desire against his head, where she pressed kisses to his temple.
Unable to resist, Hakon sank his face into those plush breasts, taking a long draw of her scent. It was heavier here, thicker, and she tasted of warm woman and salt from the dancing. He rained kisses and nips to the tops of her breasts, plumping them for his attention with their joined hands.
“Hakon,” she gasped, raking her nails down his neck.
