Page 34 of The Viking in the Vault (Galactic Librarians #2)

ELENA

M y heart is pounding as Ragnar carries me to the pod, strong arms holding me tight, secure. He’s moving like a man on a mission…and that mission?

Apparently, it’s getting me flat on my back as fast as physically possible.

The others are tucked away in their pods for the night, but I swear I hear Ves laughing softly as we pass. I don’t care, and Ragnar definitely doesn’t, given how many times he’s told my friends in no uncertain terms that he wants to fuck me.

And me…I think I want that too.

I think I want it tonight .

The private pod is small, a Nyeri’i warming chamber meant for long nights in the ice, lined with soft insulation and designed for heat retention.

The pods were obviously built for species as large as the Jotunbei, because Ragnar and I both fit inside with plenty of clearing space for his antlers—though it’s definitely cozy.

Ragnar turns to press a panel on the wall beside the door, activating the pod’s privacy field, and it seals around us with a soft hiss.

Now it’s warm…and cozy…and it’s us and I’m freaking out and I’m already aching between my thighs. I back up toward the big bed, taking a seat and waiting.

I expect Ragnar to move quickly, since he seemed hellbent on getting me horizontal, but he turns with more gravity than I anticipated. He kneels before me, taking my hands and meeting my eyes. I take a shaky breath, swallowing hard.

“Fenvarra,” he murmurs. “You have no need to fear…I mean only to pleasure you, we do not have to?—”

“I want to,” I interrupt. “I want…I’m not scared, I’m excited.”

His gaze goes dark and heated, lips curving slightly. “What do you desire, mate?”

I swallow again, take a deep breath. It feels like my lungs aren’t quite working, like my heart is racing so fast that it’s filling up my whole chest. My eyes dart down his body, over the modern clothes that fit him like a glove, toward…

He releases my hands to wrap his fingers around my thighs, pulling me slightly closer.

“You want my cock?” he growls.

Now I gasp, loud and breathy. The way he asked…

it makes me want to beg. Makes me want to beg him to push me down, spread me open, fuck me until I forget my own name.

I know he would do it if I asked, but I’m also certain that we need to take our time, because this is too important for blind, needy sex.

“Yes,” I breathe.

“Where do you want it, fenvarra?”

“I want it inside me.”

Ragnar’s breath hitches and a low rumble erupts from deep in his chest. “I hope you do not intend on sleeping tonight.”

Oh…wow, wow . “Oh?”

Ragnar chuckles, licking his lips like he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Mm…yes, mate. Because I plan to make you come so many times that, when I finally take you, your body will welcome me as if I have always belonged inside you.”

I whimper— actually whimper.

“May I undress you, Elena?”

I shiver at the way he says my name, probably because he does it so rarely. It’s always fenvarra this, mate that. But Elena …my name has never sounded more beautiful.

“Please undress me,” I whisper. “And…Ragnar? Can you call me Elena more often?”

He smiles. “Anything, Elena.”

I move to accommodate him as he slides his hands under my sweater, finding my thermal beneath.

I’m wearing so many layers from our hike, and I spent all day cold…

but now I’m hot, sweating, eager to get naked and see what my mate will do with me.

He lifts my sweater and thermal up, then I raise my arms over my head so he can place them on the bed, out of the way.

I’m wearing a sports bra underneath that’s a little snug, leaving red marks on my skin that make Ragnar frown.

“I do not like seeing the way this has cut into you,” he murmurs. “May I tear it off?—”

“No matter how great that sounds, I need to wear this tomorrow,” I cut him off with a short laugh. “Um…let me?—”

I reach down to pull the elastic wide and over my head. I lose sight of the world for a moment, and while I’m still blind, I feel Ragnar’s hands on my breasts, cupping them, nipples pinched between thumb and forefinger.

I make a sound I don’t recognize as I throw the bra into the pile of clothes, looking down at Ragnar’s face, trained on my breasts.

He groans.

“You are so soft,” he rasps, rolling my nipples. “So beautiful.”

I arch into his touch as he teases me, torments me.

Then his lips descend. He kisses the curve of my breast, and his tongue flicks out to drag along my flesh before sucking my nipple into his mouth.

I cry out, my head falling back, my fingers tangling in his blue-black hair, and he rumbles with possessive satisfaction.

“I want to see all of you,” he starts. “May I?—”

“Hurry,” I gasp out, already reaching for the button of my pants. “I really want?—”

“We will take our time, fenvarra,” he says. “I told you…no sleep, not tonight. Let me.”

I can barely hold myself still as he reaches down to my boots…undoes them lace by agonizing lace. He places them carefully at the bedside, then he’s moving to my pants, unbuttoning, unzipping, tugging at the waistband and down my thighs, leaving my knee-high socks.

“No socks?” I ask, biting my lip.

“I like how they accentuate your thighs,” he murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to said thigh, his antlers framing my shoulders. “And I don’t want your feet to be cold.”

A laugh bursts out of me by surprise, and I cover my mouth to stop it…

because of course Ragnar is thinking about my comfort, if I’m too cold or not.

Yep—my four-thousand-year-old warrior, who just told me he plans to keep me up all night wringing pleasure out of me—is also deeply, profoundly concerned my feet might get cold.

It’s so endearing that I almost forget I’m nearly naked in front of him…until he stands up and starts taking off his clothes.

Then I remember he isn’t just adorable, he’s also huge. And hot. And muscular.

And about to ravish me like we’re in a smut novel.

He starts with his belt, keeping his eyes on mine as he unbuckles it, tosses it aside.

His sweater and thermal come next…unzip, shed, repeat, reveal a whole lot of tattooed chest. His tattoos glimmer blue in the warm, soft light, and he smiles as my breath catches at the sight of his jutting cock when he pulls his pants down his thighs.

I tasted it the other night…I sucked on it until he came.

I want to do it again.

I let out a breathy sigh and Ragnar chuckles as he reaches down to pull his boxers down, his cock coming free.

I’m struck even now by the sight of just how similar to a human he is…

and altogether different. His cock is ridged in three tiers with glowing, pulsing veins, uncut, big and hard.

He reaches down and strokes himself, eyes closing for a moment as he loses himself to the pleasure of it, and he smiles when he opens his eyes again.

“Elena,” he growls. “When you look at me like that…I fear I could spend without even touching you.”

“Whoa,” I whisper. “Um…yeah, same.”

“Don’t you dare,” he laughs low in his throat as he comes toward me, crawling into the bed.

I shuffle backward, letting him in between my thighs, taking deep and heavy breaths.

“I want you coming on my tongue or my cock all night. I will make good on my promise…taste you until you are sobbing my name. And when you are trembling, aching, and desperate for me…then I will give you my cock and show you pleasures you’ve scarcely dreamed of. ”

I think I try to say words, but words aren’t exactly wording right now.

He finally hooks his fingers in my panties and drags them down my thighs, then he takes my legs in his hands, underneath my knees—and he drapes my legs over his antlers.

It’s strangely comfortable, even if he’s staring at my pussy like he’s going to shoot lasers out of his eyes.

“Now,” he growls. “Give me your pleasure.”

Then he lowers his mouth to me.

I buck into his mouth, hand shooting down to grab the silky ponytail at the crown of his head. My other hand finds my breast and tugs on my nipple, and I already feel like I’m starting to come undone. “Ragnar!”

“You do not understand…” Lick . “...what you do to me. The thought of your cunt clenching around me…”

His tongue presses inside me easily, and I arch at the overstimulation—but there’s no escape with my knees hooked over his antlers, his hands holding my hips like a chalice. I rock against him, gasping.

“Sweet gods,” he rumbles. “You taste like you were made for me.”

I sob his name again. “Ragnar, fenvarra …”

He hums, pleased. “Yes, Elena. Hold onto me. Let me make me feel exactly how I see you—my goddess of pleasure, of lust, of desire, yes …”

I come.

It happens before I even realize it, pleasure soaring through me, racing up my spine and to every extremity. I cry out, not caring who hears us, and Ragnar groans against me, enhancing the pleasure because I feel that groan all through my body.

He pulls back to look at me, his fingers replacing his tongue—thumb on my clit, one finger pressing inside while I’m still clenching. It feels so good I almost come again right away, looking up at him as he smiles.

“See how well you take me,” he chuckles with deep, masculine satisfaction. He raises his antlers a little, lifting me from the bed, and I can see one thick digit thrusting in and out, and it feels so good I can hardly breathe. “You are perfect, Elena.”

I let out a desperate, breathless moan, my fingers scrambling for purchase in the silken strands of his hair, on the curve of his antlers, on the firm muscle of his shoulders.

My body is liquid heat, pliant, all his , and he’s still touching me, still stroking me, still pulling more from me, coaxing pleasure out of me like he was born to do it.

His fingers pump slow, deep, deliberate, stretching me, working me open. His thumb circles my clit, steady but tantalizingly light, teasing, taunting, keeping me just at the edge of another peak but not letting me fall.

I sob his name again, my thighs trembling where they’re still draped over his antlers.

"Ragnar—please, please?—"

His grin is all dark promise, all wicked delight.

"Please what, fenvarra?" His fingers slow their thrusts, barely moving inside me, his thumb lifting away completely.

I almost scream in frustration.

He tilts his head slightly, like he’s considering something, his gaze burning through me, devouring me.

"I told you I would take my time with you," he murmurs. "That I would make you come and come and come until you could take me without an ounce of hesitation, without a single moment of doubt."

"Ragnar, I?—"

He lowers his mouth to me again, dragging his tongue through my slick folds, making me jolt hard against his hold. My breath catches, and that sinful, slow smile curves his lips.

"You’re still so tight, my love," he hums, pressing a third finger inside me, stretching me wider, making me gasp. "But I will make you ready for me."

He crooks his fingers just right, pressing into that sensitive, devastating spot inside me, and my entire body locks up with pleasure.

"Oh—Ragnar?—"

"Yes, again , fenvarra," he commands. "Come for me again."

And I do.

My vision blurs, my back arches, my fingers tighten in his hair as I come apart around him, gasping, shuddering, drowning in pleasure. Ragnar growls with satisfaction, pressing open-mouthed kisses to my thighs as he works me through it, drawing out every last wave, every last tremor.

He pulls back just enough to watch me tremble, his hands still gripping my hips as if he’s afraid I might slip away from him. I’m spent, shattered, boneless, my body still trembling with aftershocks of pleasure. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good in my entire life.

And Ragnar…so help me, he looks feral.

His lips are wet from me, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, those piercing eyes locked onto me like a predator who’s just feasted—but isn’t remotely satisfied yet.

I swallow, trying to regain some kind of composure, some kind of control over my own body, but I already know it’s useless. I’m his. I’ve always been his.

And the way he’s looking at me right now tells me he’s going to prove it to me again and again and again until I understand exactly what that means.