Ailsa’s mind wheeled with ideas; none she could manifest into meaning. “Just you?”
He shrugged. “That is what she asked, yes. If you don’t want me to meet with her, I won’t. I was about to throw her in the dungeons when she asked for my personal audience.”
“No,” Ailsa shook her head. “No, you should speak with her. She needs to explain herself, how she knew about theFraendibond and why she reacted the way she did.” She brushed the seams of her stitches absentmindedly. “She doesn’t deserve the dungeons. Be kind, Vali. She’s been through a lot and I… I haven’t been the best friend to her lately."
Vali grunted, the sound of reluctant agreement, before standing from the stool. He helped her out of the tub and wrapped her in a thick, ivory towel. But not before wrapping himself around her bare frame, sliding his hands down her lubricated skin and kissing away the salt from her bath.
“Vali,” she whispered, hoping he heard the plea in his name. From the way his hands lingered in low places, he did. She pressed her hips against his length, feeling his consensus.
“Yes?”
“Please, stay. Don’t go yet.”
He bit the inside of his cheek and sucked a breath, a chip in his resolve. Ailsa leaned closer and kissed his neck, sucking his skin between her teeth to nip him. A shudder ran through his body as she shattered the rest of his determination. “I need you to make me forget this is happening, to feel you instead of this fear. I needyou, Vali.”
“We must be quiet,” he whispered
“Are you reminding me or yourself?” she asked, grinning. “I believe you are the noisy one between the two of us.”
His brows danced, the wicked look in his eyes returning from the woods. “Only because I have not taken you from behind yet,sváss.”
“Empty words,” she slipped the towel from her shoulders. “I thought you were a man of action.”
He silenced her baits with a kiss, the momentum shoving her back until she felt the plush rug lining the vanity. Breaking away he said, “I am not a man. Have you forgotten?” Vali spun her around and slammed her back against his chest. His hands roamed her skin and she relaxed against him, watching his reflection in the mirror as his palm cupped her breast and his opposite hand dove low. Part Aesir, part fae, a being of myth and legend. Vali was no mere man—he was her god.
Ailsa bit her lip to silence the whimpers triggered by his touch, how his skin felt so hot compared to hers now cold from the bath. His fingers slowly circled her center, the small ministrations glacial and priming. Her head fell against the bend of his neck, eyes fluttering close.
“No,” he commanded in her ear, halting his hands. “Keep your eyes open. Watch me as I take you, Ailsa, and keep those pretty lips shut.” Only when Ailsa opened her eyes did his hands move again, and she found him smiling, enjoying her frustration. His nose traced her hairline and peppered it with kisses.
She bucked her hips, rolling them to his rhythm, finding him equally aroused behind her. She wanted to feel him, reaching up to settle in his hair as it was the only accessible portion of him when he was so flush behind her.
“You’re so soft,” he whispered. “I could touch you all night.”
Ailsa shook her head. “Tonight is not enough. A moment is never enough. Only forever will do with you,” she muttered between breaths. The grin fell from his face, and his hands hesitated. Vali pressed a bruising kiss to her temple, his eyes closing for just a breath.
“Bend over and put your hands on the vanity,sváss,” he said quietly.
She did as he requested, feeling the absence of his hands as he untied the front of his pants. She spread her legs a little wider as he freed himself, each self-stroke of his shaft sent a shiver of want in her core. Through the mirror, she watched him pull a chair closer to them, his eyes never leaving the place she left spread on display.
As he straightened, his cock came into view behind her. Hard and stiff and glistening with his own desire triggered by her body alone. Seeing him now as a reflection, the size of him compared to her hips, she marveled how he had fit inside her before.
His hands returned to smooth around her ass, climbing over her hip bones to dig in firmly with his fingers. “Remember, my love, do not make a sound, other than those cute little squeaks you make,” he whispered. She nodded vigorously, biting her lip in anticipation.
He eased his hardness against her throbbing center, sinking his length against her heat, before propping his foot up on the chair beside them. Ailsa tipped her hips back, guiding him where she needed him, just as the tip of his shaft buried into her. A muffled groan eased from his chest. She could only gasp to hold back her moan of praise as he plunged inside with a single, devastating thrust. Impaled on his length, splitting her with pure pleasure and pressure, every push of his hips delved impossibly deeper until Vali was just as much a part of her as her heart or her spirit.
Ailsa’s hands sprawled against the cold marble surface of the vanity to better grip herself and solidify herself against his thrusts, now unhindered and frenzied. There was no time for gentleness, the frustration of their situation communicated in the way he made love to her—hungry and brutal. Treating each encounter as if it would be the last time.
His jaw clenched, a starved look in his eyes as he watched her face in the mirror, her body as it writhed and quivered. Her fingers knocked glass bottles in their search for an anchor, and the perfumes rolled off the side of the vanity, crashing to the floor successively and splintering the quiet.
Vali’s eyes went wide at the sound, and Ailsa suppressed a giggle with her hand. His hips stalled to pull out of her, and he yanked her up by her shoulders. “I thought I told you to be quiet?” he snapped in her ear, though even he was smiling now.
She shrugged, running her hands behind his neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t made a sound.” In a fluid move, she kicked his foot off the chair, and spun around to face him. She fisted his shirt and shoved him into the seat. His legs spread wide as she straddled him, the expression on his face enthusiastic about the sudden position change.
“Such a heathen,” he said into her neck, kissing the rune marks inked there.
“Yes, but you like it.”
His voice dropped into a husky tone. “Iloveit.”