Ragnar craved her the way his kind craved blood. His desire for her had been a growing concern for quite some time, but after what they had done inside the carriage, it had only intensified, stoking the embers of his need. He wanted more, wanted to take everything she was willing to give and he still doubted that it would ever be enough to sate him.
He wanted her, desperately. How was he supposed to carry on as though he didn't know the way she looked when pleasure consumed her? As though he hadn't felt her come undone on his mouth and fingers? The taste of her still clung to his lips, a lingering sweetness from when she had shattered on his tongue, mourning and writhing in pure, unrestrained ecstasy.
He soothed the peak with his tongue, swirling, sucking gently, then harder when her fingers wrapped his arm, nails digging in. The other breast received the same treatment until she was writhing, thighs rubbing together, slickness gathering hot and shameless between them.
