Page 18 of Heart of the Wolf

Chapter nine

Brielle

The wind stung her cheeks as he carried her home. Pebbles rolled under his boots, his hands digging into the backs of her thighs. No one saw them walk through the village; their lips fused together, and her legs wrapped around his waist.

Wood splintered, pieces of it littering the ground as Leif kicked the door open.

“Oops,” she chuckled.

“In my way,” he mumbled against her jaw. “I’ll fix it tomorrow.”

As he lowered her, all the blood in her body rushed to the apex of her thighs. The heat of it threatened to consume her. Her shoulders rounded, her arms curling protectively around her waist.

Every horrible thought reappeared, solidifying its hold on her. Long gone was the boldness she showed in the valley. Now, under his intoxicating presence in the firelight, she doubted giving in to this primal part of her.

All those things a lady was never to do, and here she was on the brink of destruction.

She would be ruined, defiled, undesirable, and destined for damnation if the words of her father were to be believed. It was against the word of God.

No.

Not her God.

Not anymore.

After seeing proof of Freyja and Odin, it was difficult to believe in anyone else existing.

If giving herself to Leif sent her toward a fiery afterlife, so be it. Perhaps his gods were hers. Maybe they always had been. They were the only ones who judged her now.

As if sensing her rampant thoughts, Leif nipped at her ear, groaning harshly in a low staccato that made her heart jump.

“Our gods do not punish those who seek joy in this world. I can make you feel good. So good,” he said, licking his mark on her throat. “Will you let me, hjartae mitt? Will you let me bring you such pleasure that you never leave my bed?”

“I want that,” she said in a breathy voice she didn’t recognize. “Please.”

She needn’t be beholden to a God she’d never known.

But their gods—his and hers—what they had done for them was tangible. Real. It went beyond faith.

Theirs was the only judgement she cared about now.

Odin blessed Leif, and Freyja brought them together. That was more real than anything else she had ever experienced. She couldn’t deny what was right in front of her.

Leif dragged her in by her nape, savoring her taste on his tongue. Her cloak fell with a thud, the decorative beads attached to the front clinking on the floor. A glassy hue slid over his gaze, his knuckles ghosting along the column of her throat.

Brielle went rigid, gasping as he stripped her down to her linen dress.

He peppered kisses from her mouth to her jaw, all the way to the hollow of her throat, making her head fall back.

Confident fingers brushed over her thighs as he rucked up the hem of her dress, pulling it off in one swift movement.

A blush crept up her neck, and Brielle covered her breasts, feeling self-conscious. Strands of hair fell loose from her braids, framing her face as she scratched at her forearms.

One finger hooked under her chin, forcing her to hold his gaze. His tongue swept over the points of his teeth as his hands moved down to her arms, covering her.

“Let me see you, Brielle. You are a gift from the gods. Drown me in all your beauty.”

A strangled sound permeated the silence as the cool breeze stung her heated flesh. Slowly, Leif pushed her arms away, a pleased groan rolling through him, setting her cheeks aflame as her breasts bounced free.

“Pretty girl,” he said, gently collaring her throat and stroking her pulse. “Perfect. Made for me.”

“Made for you?”

“Yes,” he said, tipping her chin up without releasing her. “Every curve. Every freckle. All of you. Crafted for me. What have I done to earn such a gift?”

Not waiting for an answer, he maneuvered her until she lay sprawled out on the bed for him, exposed and utterly his. A cold flame wrapped around her limbs, making her body hum.

An expectant gleam burned in Leif’s eyes.

She didn’t want to disappoint him; she didn’t know what to do.

Darkness swirled above her, Leif covering her body with his. Brielle licked her lips, whimpering at the touch of his hard length pressed against her.

“I’ve never,” she stuttered, gnawing on her lip.

“I will go slow,” he said, something twinkling in the knowing smirk he gave her. “You will be exhausted and content in my arms when we are finished.”

Brielle squeaked as Leif kissed down the column of her throat. His palms splayed over her ribs, holding her still as he trailed his mouth and tongue over her body, nipping and sucking bruises into the sensitive flesh. His warm mouth closed around a tight nipple, and her back arched off the bed.

The sensation was sublime, the feeling taking her out like a shore with the tide. A chuckle vibrated the stiffened peak as he flicked it before offering the same attention to the other one.

Suddenly, his mouth hovered at the crux of her thighs. Sitting up on her elbows, she met his hungry gaze. His face rested on her thigh, his palm stroking her belly. Heat ignited between her legs at the implication. He sucked a laugh in through his teeth, grinning with amusement.

“You are so wet.”

Shame heated her cheeks, and a worry line etched into the furrow of her brow. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, knowing she’d disappoint him somehow.

“No.”

His face disappeared, and he licked a long swipe through her.

A shocked gasp died on her lips as she chased the indescribable pleasure.

“It means you’re ready for me. It is good, Brielle. I want you wet for me.” He stroked a thumb over the spot his tongue had just traveled, making her squirm to his delight. “Lie down and relax,” he ordered in a low command.

Brielle rushed to obey.

He yanked his tunic off by the back of the collar. Pinpricks erupted across her flesh, her body tensing and fluttering as each moment drew out to the next.

Firelight danced across his pale scars, making him glow like a demon crawling out of the pits of Hell, coming to corrupt her. She welcomed it, spreading her arms wide, offering herself to him, her demon.

Demon or angel mattered not. For what was Satan but a fallen angel? He was her sin and her salvation.

Nails dug into the creamy expanse of her thighs. Leif held her open, his chest heaving. Her lower abdomen throbbed with a deep, insistent need to have him touch her.

Brielle wiggled as his mouth hovered above her, teasing her with hot breaths that made her buck.

“Impatient girl,” he teased, laughing at her tiny noise of frustration. “Wild girl,” he added, lowering his mouth to her sex.

Brielle sank her nails into his biceps, dragging them over his muscles as Leif lapped at her like she was a fresh spring. Nothing prepared her for how deliciously consumed she was by the feeling Leif’s tongue gave her.

Pleased noises fell from him as he licked and sucked. Her moans echoed off the wooden beams, mixing with his satisfied grunts. The burning in her belly turned into an inferno.

If this was Hell, it was the closest to Heaven she had ever been.

His tongue thoroughly worked her over before circling her clit, bringing her to the edge of damnation.

“Good girl,” he praised, teasing a finger at her opening. “Odin once said death by a maiden’s thighs was as honorable as by sword. If you send me to Valhalla, so be it.”

A high-pitched whine caught in her throat as she tried to speak.

Leif cut the sound off, sinking one long finger into her, moaning appreciatively at how she clamped around him, sucking him in deeper.

He kissed her bud, pushing down on her stomach with his free hand, and the most exquisite pleasure overtook her.

Stretched and full of him. She ached in the most intoxicating way.

His tongue circled her as he pumped in and out of her in steady thrusts that made stars flicker in her gaze.

Each stroke of his finger and flick of his tongue coiled her tighter and tighter until she teetered on a precipice, on the verge of disintegrating.

“You taste like honeyed fruit,” he said, suckling on her. His beard glistened with her arousal. “Like ambrosia. Will your sweet cunt grant me immortality?”

“Oh God,” she whined, the filthy word undoing her.

The furs from the bed caught on her nails as she scratched for purchase.

“Not God,” he groaned, pinning her thighs to the bed, leaving small crescent marks behind.

“It is me making you feel this good. You will say my name when it is me between your legs, hjartae mitt. It is me who will make you come. Not the Christian God, not Odin, not Loki, not Freyja, but me,” he hissed with a claiming nip on her clit, making her yelp.

“Say my name,” he bellowed, the command making her shudder.

“Leif,” she moaned, bucking her hips to meet him.

A tremor in her legs grew into something uncontrollable. Leif sucked on her, flicking his tongue steadily as his finger pumped into her, tapping insistently at something that made her cry out.

Broken pants fell from her chapped lips as her body rocked off the bed, spiraling into some oblivion she desperately wanted to crash into.

“That’s it. Doing so well. You’re going to come for me.”

Something shattered in the depths of her soul, breaking apart like the splintering ice of a frozen pond.

Brielle sobbed a wanton moan as her entire body constricted, intense waves of warmth crashing over her.

Leif groaned between her legs, stroking her gently through the peaks of whatever was happening until her trembling body stilled atop the furs.

Sweat beaded on her brow as her chest heaved, her cloudy vision starting to clear.

With a final thrust, Leif slipped his finger from her still clenching core. Brielle’s lips parted as Leif closed his mouth around the digit, sucking it clean. He wiped away the remnants of her release on his beard.

Gently, he spread her legs, kneeling between them as he tugged at the ties around his waist.