She tugged at his jumper impatiently, pulling and pushing, but not managing either, until his hands swept hers aside and he drew the jumper over his head, cast it aside and returned to a kiss that had her toes curling. It should have been funny, but it wasn’t. It was sad and she wanted to cry and the kisses weren’t enough and the need she felt would never be sated. The hurt she felt would never be healed. She gasped into his kiss, grief a hitch in her breath, the feeling of loss too soon and too much.
His kiss gentled and became soothing and reassuring as if trying to calm the ferocious hurt that swept over her. His palm was hot against her back, his fingers toying with the hem of her top, but it wasn’t enough, not nearly. She pulled the top over her head and, like he had, cast it aside. She’d not worn a bra that morning and his eyes feasted on her, roaming her flame-licked skin as if imprinting it on his mind for years to come.
He reached up, palming her breasts at the same time, the warmth, the possessiveness of his touch, the way his thumbs toyed with her nipples bringing fissures of pleasure to a shell she’d not realised she’d worn ever since the night they’d parted eight years ago. It shattered beneath his touch, exposing the vulnerable untouched heart of her. She wanted to give him this. He deserved that much at least. If this night—this stolen night—was all they were to have then they would make enough memories for them both to last a lifetime.
Her determination made her bold. She pulled him back to her, this timeherlips, her touch possessive and needy. She had been consumed by him once. Now she wanted to consume. Her tongue thrust deep into his mouth, his eyes flaring at the invasion, the primal claim she laid against him. Her fingers rifling through the thick golden strands and framing his head as she pressed herself up against his chest, delighting in the friction of his skin against her already taut nipples. His hand swept down and around her backside, squeezing her against him and pressing the length of his arousal against her core. Through the layers of clothing she felt him, felt his heat, his need for her and she wanted it, she wanted it all.
He drew her thigh upwards, hooking her leg over his hip, the angle a heavenly pressure on the sensitive bundle of nerves at the heart of her need and she cried out into his mouth. Shivering, her fingers flew to his trousers, freeing the button and pulling at the tab of the zip, but before she could draw it down he hoisted her up into his arms and she was forced to wrap her other leg around him for stability.
‘You’re rushing me,’ he growled against her mouth.
She held back a smile. ‘I am not. I’m rushingme.’
‘There’s no need. I’m going to take my time with you.’
‘Actually,’ she replied archly, ‘I had planned to take my time with—’
He dropped down to the sofa, cradling her in his lap, but shocking the breath from her lungs and hauling her up against his chest. His hand palmed her backside, long fingers inching further beneath her, sensual anticipation driving her wild. She lifted to give him more room, arching into him, her breasts pressing against his chest, her breath expanding in her lungs, wanting, needing. But an arched brow above a knowing gaze pressed her back down and Freya knew she was being toyed with. Perhaps, Freya thought wryly, he had forgotten who he was playing with.
Having Freya hot and wanting in his lap was a lifetime of fantasies rolled into one. She twisted and turned like flames in his grasp, but if this was the last night they would share together he wanted to savour every minute of it. And he wasn’t above teasing her to get what he wanted. He pulled gently on her shoulders, pressing her into his lap and sending her head backwards, the pleasure she found there shivering across her skin, but by the time she raised her head to look at him, wickedness sparked in her gaze and he stilled for long enough to wonder what she had planned. That second was, apparently, all she needed.
Placing her hands on his thighs, she lifted herself off his lap and slid between his legs. It was so quick he’d not been able to catch her and, before he could move, she’d undone the zip of his trousers and his heart was pounding so hard in his chest he thought he’d be able to see it.
‘Freya...’ It was supposed to have been an admonishment, but instead it came out half plea, half prayer and all curse. He wouldn’t last. Not like this. Not even in his wildest fantasies had he seen his princess on her knees before him and just the sight of it was enough to undo him.
And he didn’t doubt for one second that she knew it too. He reached for where her hands sat at the top of his thighs and she batted him away. Clenching his jaw, he pressed his fists down on the sofa cushion beside his legs and watched her like a hawk. The curve to her lip was victorious and he wouldn’t do anything to take that away from her. It made his heart soar. Until it stopped altogether as her eyes widened to the size of saucers when she realised he wasn’t wearing anything beneath his trousers.
Pressing apart the trouser opening, she reached for him and he flinched, his erection jerking against her palm in arousal and need. His fist tightened on itself, pressing deeper and harder into the cushion as he held himself back.
Her fingers wrapped around him, flexing against his hardened length, drawing her caress upwards, slowly,soslowly, before gliding down and, before he could think to stop her, she took him into her mouth and he turned the air blue with curses that would have shocked even his soldiers.
He pressed his fisted hand against his mouth to prevent anything further escaping—like the groan that was building in the back of his throat and the pleas that were threatening to undo any semblance of manhood he’d ever had. Begging was not an option.
At least not until she swirled her tongue around the delicate head of his penis and he knew he was going to hell.
The thrill of holding him in her mouth was something Freya could never have imagined. The power and trust of it humbled her. But it was the pleasure she took from it for herself that was the surprise. Skin like smooth velvet wrapped around steel that she couldn’t get enough of. She took him in further and deeper until he filled her mouth completely and she didn’t think she could take any more. But the sound of the growl Kjell made, primal and desperate, and all the things he made her feel...it made her wet with want. Her eyes flickered up to his and she froze.
The sheer ferocity of need in his eyes had her heart tripping over itself. The low pulse that had throbbed incessantly now stung with the intensity of arousal flickering over her skin and in the hollow of her body that wanted nothing more than him to fill it. She thought she’d felt empty before, when she’d received her diagnosis. But theforceshe wanted him with...she would never feel complete without him.
In that moment before she could properly understand her own thoughts he claimed back control, gently pulling her up, both of them slick with want and need. He wasted no time in peeling the thermal layers away from her waist, down her hips and from her legs, one at a time. And just like that she was naked in his lap, the rough feel of his trouser zip on the underside of her sensitive thighs sending shivers through her body.
She shifted in his lap, teasing herself against the hardened length of him, and when she saw him watching her she blushed.
‘Don’t stop.’ The rough words sounding ripped from him.
‘What?’ she asked, avoiding the fierce heat of his gaze.
‘Never stop taking your pleasure,’ he commanded, his eyes dark with desire and something that looked almost like desperation. ‘There isnothingmore beautiful to see than you taking your pleasure from me.’
She speared her bottom lip with her teeth, as both an anchor and a bloom of infinitesimal hurt to keep the need coursing through her veins in check. She was breathless with want—the look in his eyes a challenge, adare.
What do you need to believe again?
He was showing her how much of a woman she was—whether she could have children or not. Whether they had a future together or not—he was giving her this. He was showing her how to take her power.
She rolled her hips, sliding against the hard length of him, the sweep across her clitoris sensual, slick and violently arousing. It came on fast—the waves of desire washing through her body, building and building, sighs and groans hitching her breath higher and higher. Before her mind could process the incredible sensation, Kjell gripped her hips, adding his hold to the pressure and her back bowed as she came, her eyes saw stars as Kjell worshipped her breasts, his hold on her safe and protective.
Freya returned to the feel of Kjell’s arms around her, holding her upright in his lap, pressing delicate kisses to her collarbone that threatened to reignite a fire only just tempered.