But before I could stroke him again, he abandoned my breast and caught hold of my wrist, forcing my hand out of his trousers. I bit back a snarl of frustration even as I felt his chest shake with silent laughter. He transferred my wrist to his other hand, binding me in place as his leg slipped over mine.
Putting me, I realized, entirely in his control.
My sex throbbed, already slick, and I clenched my teeth to keep from moaning as he slipped his hand under my tunic, fingers tracing over the muscles of my stomach, along my ribs, down my spine, making me breathless.
I needed more. Needed to be touched, needed to be filled, but my wrists were locked in his grip and all I could do was discreetly squirm, rubbing my thighs together, ever wary of discovery. But then Bjorn moved his leg, pinning my thighs in place, denying me even as he drove my need higher.
His fingers explored my torso, my breasts, and the lengths of my arms, his breath hot where his lips pressed against my neck. I wanted him to kiss me, wanted to taste his tongue in my mouth, but kisses were loud and already my panted breathing felt dangerous.
Lower, I silently pleaded, straining against him, desperation making me see stars. Touch me. Sink your fingers into me. Finish me.
As if sensing I was close to breaking, he bit at my throat, then reached down as he moved his leg. Catching hold of the waist of my trousers, he eased them over the curve of my arse. His palm left fire in its wake as he cupped my bottom, then stroked down over the top of my thighs.
Please.
Vaguely I was aware that the sun grew brighter by the second. That dawn would soon be here and we’d be out of time, and by the gods, if he left me unsatisfied, I was going to fucking kill him.
Then his hand slipped between my thighs and over my sex, cupping me, and I sucked in a breath, quivering in anticipation. I tried to move against his hand, needing more more more but he held me in place, possessing me even as he denied me. “Please,” I breathed. “I need you.”
“You have me,” he answered, then drew a finger down my sex, parting me. I twisted my face into his bicep to silence my sob of pleasure, feeling his intake of breath as he found me wet and wanting.
He buried his face in my hair, the throb of his heart against my spine seeming to echo the throb of need at the apex of my thighs. Spikes of pleasure jolted through me as he circled my entrance, the icy wind pulling at my hair and creeping under the furs almost welcome, I burned so hot. Yet it was like comparing the light of the stars to the burning glow of the sun as he sank a finger into me, then two, stroking my core, my body climbing higher toward release.
Yet still, I wanted.
Wanted him to bury that thick cock inside me, to take me with the strength that currently held me pinned in place. Wanted him to ravish me and consume me and fuck me until I shattered. Yet for all Bjorn’s fingers were buried in me, the same hand kept me at a distance, his palm holding my backside, thumb digging into the flesh of my arse to keep me from rubbing against him.
A snarl of desperate fury rose in my chest, but it was vanquished as he withdrew his slick fingers from my core and found my clit. I clenched my teeth, tasting blood as I caught the inside of my cheek between them, but I didn’t care. Not as his finger circled me, my body soaked and ready and climbing ever higher.
More, I pleaded, unsure of whether I thought or said it, only that I wanted it, and he moved his leg from where it restrained mine, allowing me to spread my thighs wider. He plunged his fingers back inside me, slickening them, then caught that tiny part of me that seemed to contain every want in my body, tugging on it even as his thumb caressed over it.
Release struck me with the force of a cresting wave, my back arching. I would have screamed his name, forsaking us both, but Bjorn’s mouth was suddenly on mine. He consumed my cries, tongue stroking mine, teeth catching my lips as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through me.
Only when my release had eased its claim on me, leaving me spent, did his lips abandon mine, going to my ear. And under the cover of the howling wind, he murmured, “You are mine, Born-in-Fire. Even if only the two of us know it.”
I was. Gods help me, but I was. And for the first time in my life, it felt like I wanted for nothing.
Dawn broke as we lay panting in each other’s arms, concealed now only by the furs draped over us. I knew I should move away, that there needed to be distance between us before others woke or it brightened enough for the scouts on duty to see clearly, but I didn’t want to. In Bjorn’s arms, I felt content and safe for the first time in so long, which is why I was still in them when Bodil yawned and sat upright.