Page 25 of Viking (Dixie Reapers MC #24)

“Christ, Karoline.” He pressed his forehead to mine as his fingers worked magic, teasing my sensitive flesh. “You feel so fucking good.”

I couldn’t form words, could only whimper as he found a rhythm that had me trembling against him.

My hand slid between us, wrapping around his cock, feeling him pulse against my palm.

His sharp intake of breath was all the encouragement I needed to stroke him, matching the tempo of his fingers against my pussy.

Steam swirled around us, the hot spray becoming background to the heat generated between our bodies.

Viking’s mouth left mine to trail down my neck, teeth grazing my pulse point in a way that made me cry out.

My head fell back, giving him better access as his lips continued their journey to my breast. When his tongue circled my nipple before drawing it into the wet heat of his mouth, my legs nearly gave out.

He seemed to sense my weakness, his free arm banding around my waist to support me as his fingers continued their relentless rhythm. I was close, so close, the pressure building to something that threatened to shatter me completely.

“Let go,” he murmured against my skin. “I’ve got you.”

And I did, coming apart in his arms with a broken cry that echoed off the tile walls. Viking held me through it, his mouth finding mine again to swallow my moans as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through me.

When I finally sagged against him, boneless and breathless, he reached behind me to turn off the water. The sudden silence was broken only by our ragged breathing and the steady drip from the faucet. Viking brushed wet strands of hair from my face, his eyes searching mine.

“Okay?” he asked, vulnerability threading through the single word.

I nodded, still unable to speak, overwhelmed by the intensity of what had just happened between us. By the gentleness of this dangerous man who had killed to protect me hours earlier and now touched me like I was something precious.

“We’re just getting started,” he said, a promise that sent fresh heat spiraling through me.

I rose on my tiptoes, pressing my lips to his in a kiss that left no doubt about what I wanted. What I needed. Him. Us. This connection that had somehow become my anchor in a storm-tossed world.

Without warning, Viking scooped me into his arms, lifting me like I weighed nothing.

Water streamed from our bodies, creating puddles on the tile as he carried me into the bedroom.

I clung to his neck, my wet skin sliding against his, marveling at the strength in his arms and the gentleness in his touch.

The cool air of the bedroom raised goose bumps across my damp skin.

His gaze never left mine as he approached the bed, the intensity in it making my heart slam against my ribs like a caged animal desperate for freedom.

He laid me down on the mattress with a reverence that stole my breath, the sheets cool against my back. Viking stood over me for a moment, his gaze traveling the length of my body with such open hunger that I felt myself flush despite everything we’d already shared in the shower.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked again, his voice rough with restraint. “We can stop now if you want.”

In answer, I reached for him, my fingers closing around his wrist to tug him down beside me. “I don’t want to stop. I want you. All of you.”

The last thread of his control snapped. He covered my body with his, his weight pressing me into the mattress in a way that felt like sanctuary rather than restraint.

His mouth found mine in a kiss that burned away any lingering doubts, any hesitation that might have remained between us.

This was right. This was where I belonged.

My fingers traced the dragon tattoo, following its inked scales across his skin. “It’s beautiful.”

“Got it after I turned eighteen.” His breath hitched as my hands explored lower, tracing the hard planes of his stomach. “Reminder that even monsters can protect. As well as being a visual reminder of my heritage.”

I pressed my lips to the dragon’s head, then to the scar beside it -- a puckered line that spoke of old violence. “You’re not a monster. Not to me. Not to Athena.”

Something vulnerable flashed in his eyes before he captured my mouth again, his kiss deeper, hungrier.

His hands weren’t idle, skimming down my sides to grip my hips, thumbs pressing into the hollows beside my hipbones.

When his mouth left mine to blaze a trail down my neck, across my collarbone, to the swell of my breast, I arched beneath him, a soft moan escaping my lips.

“I dreamed about this,” he confessed against my skin. “About you. About how you’d taste, how you’d sound.” His tongue circled my nipple before drawing it into the heat of his mouth, and I cried out, my fingers tangling in his still-damp hair to hold him closer.

“Viking,” I gasped, his road name falling from my lips like a prayer. “Please.”

“Call me Lief,” he murmured.

He continued his journey downward, lips and tongue and teeth marking a path across my ribs, the sensitive skin of my stomach, the jut of my hipbones. When he settled between my thighs, his broad shoulders spreading them wider, I held my breath, anticipation coiling tight in my core.

The first touch of his tongue against my pussy sent electricity sparking up my spine.

My back bowed off the mattress, a broken sound tearing from my throat as he devoured me with the same focused intensity he brought to everything else.

His calloused hands gripped my thighs, holding me open for his assault as he found every spot that made me writhe and whimper.

Just when I thought I couldn’t take any more, when pleasure was building to a crescendo that threatened to shatter me, he pulled away.

I made a sound of protest that died in my throat as he moved up my body, positioning himself between my spread thighs, the hard length of his cock pressed against where I needed him most.

“Look at me,” he commanded softly.

I did, drowning in the blue of his eyes as he pushed forward, entering me with excruciating slowness. The stretch and burn of him filling me drew a gasp from my lips, my nails digging into his shoulders as my body adjusted to his size.

“Fuck.” His forehead pressed to mine as he bottomed out. “You feel like heaven, Karoline.”

For a moment, we were perfectly still, joined as completely as two people could be, our ragged breathing the only sound in the room. Then he began to move, withdrawing almost completely before driving back into me with a force that made us both groan.

We found our rhythm quickly, as if we’d been made for each other, my hips rising to meet each of his thrusts.

His mouth claimed mine, swallowing my cries as the tension built between us.

One of his hands slid beneath me to grip my ass, angling me to take him deeper, while the other tangled in my hair, holding me where he wanted me.

“Mine,” he said, his voice a near growl against my lips. “Say it.”

“Yours,” I gasped, the word ripped from somewhere deep inside me. “I’m yours, Lief.”

His rhythm faltered at my words, his control slipping as he drove into me harder, faster. I wrapped my legs around his waist, taking him as deep as I could, feeling the precipice approaching with each thrust.

“Come for me,” he demanded, his voice strained. “Let me feel you.”

His hand moved from under me to slip between us, thumb finding my clit with unerring accuracy, and that was all it took.

I shattered beneath him, my inner walls clamping down around his cock as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through me.

Viking followed a moment later, his hips jerking against mine as he buried his face in my neck, my name a broken litany on his lips as he found his release.

After, he rolled to his side, taking me with him so we remained connected, my leg thrown over his hip, his arm around my waist holding me close. I traced idle patterns on his sweat-slick chest, feeling his heartbeat gradually slow beneath my palm.

“I can’t believe you’re actually here with me right now,” he said.

I turned my face to press a kiss onto his chest. “I didn’t really date, at least not after high school, but even those guys fell short. None of them made me feel safe, or looked at me, the way you do.”

“How do I look at you?” he asked.

“Like I’m something valuable. Something worth protecting.” I swallowed hard. “Something worth loving.”

His eyes darkened, his arm tightening around me. “That’s because you are.”

We didn’t say the words -- not yet. But they hung in the air between us, in the gentle way he tucked me against his chest, in the press of his lips against my forehead, in the tangle of our legs beneath the sheets.

Tomorrow would bring new challenges -- the aftermath of the attack, the ongoing threat from whoever had sent those men, the reality of integrating Athena and me into the club’s world.

But for now, wrapped in Viking’s arms, I felt something I hadn’t experienced since before Kris died: peace.