Free Web NovelChapter 252: Chapter 252
The fire in the hearth had burned low, doing its best to chase away the chill that lingered in the study. Ragnar’s mouth was on hers again, slower this time, kissing her deeper. It was a type of kiss that felt reverent, as though he were committing the shape of her lips to memory with every careful sweep of his tongue.
Circe melted further against his chest, her fingers curling into the rough linen of his shirt.
His beard scraped deliciously against her chin, her cheeks, the sensitive skin beneath her jaw when he tilted her head back to kiss her harder, each shift stealing another breath from her lungs.
Each time he drew back just a little, she chased his mouth without thinking, a quiet, desperate sound catching in her throat.
He devoured her in pieces, first the corner of her mouth, then the bow of her lip, then the soft inside of her bottom lip caught gently between his teeth. One large hand cradled the back of her neck in a firm and possessive hold, his thumb stroking the delicate line of her throat, while his other hand wandered.
It traced up her sides over the thin fabric of her nightgown, learning the dip of her waist, the gentle flare of her hips, the way her body seemed to sigh and arch toward his hand.
She was already squirming in his lap, restless, helpless little movements she couldn’t control. Heat pooled low in her belly until it felt as though her skin was too tight, too hot, her mind unable to even form thought.
A soft moan slipped free when his tongue stroked deep again, and the sound seemed to please him. She felt the low rumble of approval resonate through his chest, vibrating against her own.
When they finally broke apart, both of them breathing unevenly, Circe shifted on his laps, trying to press herself closer, chasing friction that wasn’t quite enough. Ragnar’s eyes were dark and the hand that had been so patiently roaming finally slid beneath the hem of her nightgown.
The first brush of his rough fingertips against the smooth skin of her inner thigh made her gasp. He took his time, stroking higher, tracing the crease where leg met hip with maddening slowness, until she was trembling outright.
Then his fingers finally touched her where she wanted, parting slick folds in a way that made her whole body clench in response.
She sighed, long and shaky, her head tipping back as two thick fingers pressed inside her, filling her just enough to draw another moan from her lips, louder this time, more unrestrained.
"Is this what you want?" His voice was low and gruff. "For me to slip my fingers into your dripping cunt? Is that why you couldn’t fall asleep?"
The words should have made her blush. Instead, they made her tighten around him, shameless and aching, need flaring brighter.
"Yes," she breathed, the sound breaking on the single syllable. "Yes—please—"
He gave her exactly what she asked for.
His fingers moved, curling and stroking, finding every place inside her that made her hips jerk and her breath stutter.
The pad of his thumb found her clit and circled it with just enough pressure to send sparks bursting behind her closed lids. She tried to be quiet but the sounds spilled out anyway, broken moans and breathless whimpers, his name slipping from her mouth over and over like a prayer she could not stop saying.
When she came, it was sudden and mind shattering. Her thighs clamped around his wrist, her back bowing as a gasped cry tore from her throat and pleasure ripped through her in bright, blinding waves. Ragnar held her through it, fingers still buried deep, drawing out every aftershock until she was limp and panting against his shoulder, spent and shaking.
He watched her the entire time, a slow, satisfied smile curving his mouth. freēwēbηovel.c૦m
"There is nothing better than watching the look on your face when you come apart for me." he murmured, his voice thick with pride.
Circe’s legs still trembled when he finally eased his fingers free. He helped her to her feet, steadying her with his hands on her hips until the room stopped spinning and she found her balance again.
Then he rose behind her, pushing the heavy chair back with a careless nudge of his boot.
Before she could draw a full breath, he was there again, his chest pressed to her back, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.
"Tonight," he whispered, the words dark and possessive, curling through her like a promise, "you are mine to do with as I please."
She bit her lip hard enough to sting, nodding once because words had utterly deserted her.
With a single swipe of his hand, he shoved the ledgers he had been reading aside, clearing space on the broad surface of the desk.
One hand settled firmly on her shoulder, the other on her waist, guiding her forward until her palms braced against the cool, polished wood. He swept her hair to one side with unexpected gentleness, then bent to press open-mouthed kisses along the vulnerable line of her neck.
She felt the hard length of him nudging insistently against her backside through his breeches and whimpered, her hips rocking back without permission, already aching for what she knew was coming next.
"Don’t move from this desk," he said, and this time the command carried a sharper, sterner edge than before. "I will stop if you do."
The threat sank deep into her bones, settling there with a shiver that had nothing to do with fear.
She nodded in silent understanding, fingers curling against the polished wood as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded.
He stepped back a little and a second later, she felt the nightgown being gathered slowly up the backs of her thighs, the fabric inching higher and higher until cool air brushed against newly bared skin.
Goosebumps bloomed in its wake as the gown bunched at her waist, leaving her exposed beneath his hungry gaze.
Ragnar made a low, appreciative sound deep in his throat, the kind that spoke of restraint stretched thin. The raw want in it sent a fresh wave of heat pooling between her legs, her breath catching despite herself.
Still, she did not move. She stayed exactly where he had placed her, bent over his desk, heart pounding hard enough to echo in her ears, every nerve alight as she waited, breathless and trembling, for whatever he intended to do next.
