The Dragon Who Loved Me
She wasn’t. Not even a little. She took, she gave, and she didn’t hold back. At least not with him. Not when she was busy pushing him to the ground and taking his c**k inside her.
She smiled down at him, her brown hair loose around her face, those damn dimples making her look unbelievably adorable.
Vigholf grabbed her hips, the feel of her pu**y squeezing and releasing him nearly driving him insane. She rode him with her back arching, her hands gripping his thighs and digging into the flesh. Although she took him hard, she didn’t rush anything. She wanted to enjoy this and he was enjoying her.
He reached up and gripped her br**sts, teasing the ni**les with the tips of his fingers. Eventual y he needed more, and he pushed himself up, slid his arms around her waist and his mouth around her breast. He lashed his tongue across and around the nipple, then tugged with his lips.
Rhona made that little squeal sound again as she wrapped herself around him, holding him tight against her chest.
He continued to suck and tease and nip while she squeezed his cock, tormenting him almost, because it felt so damn good.
Rhona dug her hands into his hair, pinning him to her breast. He gripped the other breast with his hand, the pair of them groaning and sweating even though there was snow under the bedrol they sat upon. If it was cold, they neither felt it nor cared.
Vigholf heard a sob catch in Rhona’s throat, and he rol ed her over onto her back, placing his palms flat on either side of her. He plunged into her as her body shook beneath his, the cries of her release echoing out, making the horses restless while they tried to sleep.
He came right after her, the power of it racing from his head to his toes. He roared in pleasure, his body draining into hers, until he could do nothing but drop on top of her, exhausted and sated as he never had been before.
With one good push, Rhona shoved him off, Vigholf groaning when his c**k left her.
“You’re not as light as a feather, Northlander.”
“Neither are you,” he said, which not surprisingly got him a punch to the ribs. A deserved one.
Laughing, he pul ed Rhona into his arms and held her against him.
After a while, she stated, “We can’t keep doing this, you know.”
He decided not to overreact to that statement and instead asked, “We can’t? Why not?”
“We’ve got to finish al this and get back to the Val ey.”
“We wil . You act like we’ve deserted everyone.”
“Maybe we have.”
He pul ed her in tighter and kissed the top of her head. “There’s no reason to worry. I’m sure they’re al sitting around, immensely bored, waiting for that damn tunnel to be finished, so we can finish the Irons. We’l be back in time.”
“But—”
“The war’s been at a standstil for five years, Rhona,” Vigholf reminded her. “I doubt they’l even miss us.” Ragnar was going over the state of their supplies when Fearghus the Destroyer and Briec the Mighty walked in. Their royal armor no longer glinted shiny and bright as it first did when they’d headed out from Dark Plains that early morning five years ago. Now there were dents on the steel plate, blood in the crevices they no longer bothered to wash away. Briec sported a spear wound to the throat he’d barely survived. Fearghus had a limp that worsened during the winter months due to the spear tip stil buried past scale, flesh, and muscle and deep into bone.
“Where’s our sister?” Briec demanded. Ragnar had become used to Briec’s arrogant and rude nature, but that didn’t mean he liked it.
“She’s returned to Dark Plains,” he admitted.
“Alone?”
“With Ren.”
“Why?”
“For her safety.” It wasn’t a lie. He’d agreed to Keita’s return because he knew she’d be safe in the Southlands. But he needn’t mention the rest of it, because Keita, as always—he’d grudgingly learned—was right. They couldn’t afford to lose the soldiers and Dragonwarriors the two Fire Breather princes led, especial y since most of the Cadwaladrs would go with them if they returned to Dark Plains to protect the children. For that Clan it was al about protecting their kin, especial y the hatchlings.
So Ragnar kept his answers short and vague. It was the safest route when dealing with Keita’s brothers.
Fearghus, the smarter of the pair—or perhaps the more devious—circled around Ragnar.
“She just let you send her back? Without question?”
“Yes. But I’m being careful with what I eat over the next few days.” For good or il , Keita was known for her vengeful nature and her method of vengeance usual y involved slipping certain herbs in the offender’s food. Even if that offender was kin.
“Probably for the best,” Fearghus murmured.
“But why now?” Briec pushed. “Why send her back now?”
“Because we’re almost finished with the tunnel. And once that’s done, we’re not going to wait before we move. I don’t know about you two, but I want this done and the Irons out of our lives for good. Now if you two wil excuse me . . .”
“Where’s your brother?” Fearghus asked.
“Which one?”
“The only one that is around you constantly. I’ve seen your cousin Meinhard, but I haven’t seen Vigholf in days. Where is he?”
“I asked him to accompany Keita and Ren.”
“Ren doesn’t need a Lightning for protection. Ren doesn’t need any protection.”