Page 89 of Storm of Fury
Damn her for a fool, but she half thought it would always be a “yes” when it came to this man.
“Good. Because it’s too late to scare me away, sweetheart.” His groin ground against her ass. “It was too late for that the moment I laid eyes upon you. No regrets.”
“No regrets,” she exhaled on a shivery breath.
His enormous hands slid up her abdomen, unashamedly cupping her breasts. His teeth raked over the back of her neck as he pressed her against the door. A spear of desire went through her nether regions, and a moan escaped her as every hot, hard inch of him pressed against her.
Frigg’s breath, how was she to keep her head against this onslaught?
Those deft fingers pinched her nipple, and Bryn bit her lip. He knew exactly what he was doing to her. And her heart skipped a beat, because she’d never felt so helpless in a man’s embrace.Shewas the one in charge.Shewas the one who took what she wanted.
But Tormund gave her no inch, no quarter.
His cock ground against her ass, and then his fingers were sliding over the rounded curve of her abdomen, and delving lower. Stroking the edge of her trousers, until she was breathless with anticipation. His other hand slid up her throat, and the rough burr of his stubble brushed against her ear.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered, as his fingertips grazed the soft skin under her waistband. “You’re so soft, so warm” —his fingers tiptoed down— “and you’re wet, aren’t you, Bryn? Wet for me.”
Bryn caught her breath as those fingers edged beneath her trousers.
Then they were tracing her slickness, and it was all she could do not to moan again. To beg.Fuck. Her breath came in jagged rasps. “It’s all for you.”
His wet fingers traced slippery trails up her abdomen, and then he was suckling them into his mouth, and tasting her body’s slickness on his tongue. “Gods, you taste delicious. I want to drown myself between your thighs.” A rough laugh escaped him. “I want to teach you just what a man with a beard can do.”
And then he was grinding her against the door, his teeth sinking into the muscle between her shoulder and her neck.
“I love that I don’t have to be gentle with you,” he breathed, suckling her skin into his mouth. “I love that you’re woman enough to take all of me without complaint. I want to be patient, but I don’t think I have it in me. Not with you. I want to fuck you, Bryn. I want you on your hands and knees, begging me for more.”
She moaned.
“Is that what you want?” He grabbed a fistful of her hair, and her sex pulsed in response. “Do you want me to be rough, Bryn? Or do you want me to be patient?”
She was always in control, but his words seemed to rouse some side of her she’d never felt before. She could see herself exactly as his words painted. Begging him. Screaming her pleasure. Desperate for more.
“Rough,” she whispered.
And he growled under his breath, biting her earlobe. “Good girl.”
“Kiss me,” she demanded, turning in his grip and sliding both arms around his neck. Sense fled. Doubt fled. There was only this.
Desire.Need.
An absolute desperation to get under his skin.
His mouth crashed down upon hers, and they careened back against the door. Bryn tilted her mouth to his, drinking in the hot lash of his tongue. The man knew how to kiss. Every move was hard and aggressive, as though he knew the seconds were ticking down until dawn.
“Key,” he demanded, his hot breath scoring her sensitive lips.
Somehow she got the door open. And then they were staggering through it. Tormund slammed the door shut behind them, then caught her beneath the thighs and hauled her legs around his waist.
The shock of the moment seared her nerves.
She was used to being the aggressor in all her physical relationships. Used to overpowering—or even dwarfing—most men. But Tormund was an enormous brute of a man, carved with thick, heavy muscle. Each of his hands could probably crush her skull. He strode toward the bed with her in his arms as if she weighed nothing.
Bryn fell back upon the blankets, the breath hissing from her lungs.
Pressing one knee between her thighs, he leaned down, capturing her chin in one hand and driving the knuckles of his other hand into the mattress. The way he claimed her mouth chased all her last lingering doubts away.
He kissed her as if he meant to devour her. Their tongues met and clashed, wet and slick. She’d never truly thought much of kissing, but somehow, she found herself breathless. Somehow, she was leaning into his mouth, desperate for more.
