RAGNAR’S POV

Ragnar’s answer wasn’t just a kiss—it was a goddamn promise. The second his mouth crashed into mine, the world disappeared. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t tentative. It was a goddamn tidal wave of heat and possession, like he’d been waiting too long and now he couldn’t hold it back another second. His lips devoured mine with a hunger that made my head spin, his tongue sweeping into my mouth with wild, claiming intensity.

And I let him. No—I gave myself to him.

My moan was swallowed in his kiss, my body arching into his without even thinking. My breasts pressed against his chest, the heat of him burning through my dress. His hands—calloused, rough, those hands that had held axes and broken men—slid down my back like they were meant to touch me. He gripped my ass like he owned it, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises. And it only made me wetter.

I could feel his cock through his pants, hard as stone, thick and heavy against my hip. He rolled his hips just enough to let me feel what I did to him. It made my stomach flip. I clawed at his shirt, desperate to get to his skin, to taste the sweat clinging to him. He pulled back just long enough to trail his lips down my neck, sucking at the pulse hammering there, biting me like he needed to mark me.

“Ragnar,” I gasped, my voice shaking with pure need.

“Shut up,” he growled, voice gravel and thunder. I didn’t take offense—I melted. He lifted my dress up around my waist and slapped my ass, hard. The sting made me cry out, but I didn’t run. I braced for more.

“You’re mine tonight,” he said, each word sharp like a blade. “Every goddamn inch of you.”

Before I could respond, he spun me around and bent me over the nearest surface. I barely caught myself with my hands. I didn’t care. All I knew was that I was bent, exposed, soaking. I heard his belt unbuckle, the sound of him freeing himself. Then I felt it—his cock, thick and hot, resting against my ass.

My breath caught in my throat.

“Beg for it,” he demanded.

“Please…” My voice trembled. “Please, Ragnar. Fuck me. I need you inside me.”

He didn’t make me wait. With one savage thrust, he slammed into me, burying himself to the hilt. I screamed—loud, filthy, needy. The stretch burned in the best way, and I welcomed every inch of him.

He didn’t ease me into it. No slow start. He pounded into me like a man possessed, his grip bruising my hips, his cock hitting deep. I was a mess in seconds, drooling, moaning as the sound of skin slapping skin filled the room.

“You love this,” he snarled behind me, giving my ass another slap. “Taking my cock like the desperate little slut you are.”

“Yes,” I cried. “Fuck me harder! I’m yours!”

He fucked me harder. My thighs quivered, my vision blurred. I could feel my orgasm building, a hot coil of pleasure that was seconds from snapping. His cock hit that perfect spot inside me, over and over, and I shattered.

I screamed his name as my pussy clenched around him, wetness gushing down my thighs. I didn’t even have time to breathe before he gripped my hair, yanked me upright, and pulled me back against his chest. His lips pressed to my ear, voice a dark whisper.

“You’re not done.”

He turned me to face him, lifted me like I weighed nothing, and dropped me onto his cock again as he sat down on the ground. I wrapped my legs around him, riding him with shaky legs while he kissed me like he wanted to own my soul.

Our bodies moved in sync, my hips grinding, his hands everywhere—tugging at my breasts, slapping my ass, bruising my waist. The ground rocked under us, creaking with every thrust. Sweat dripped down our skin. His breath was hot on my neck.

“I want you dripping for days,” he groaned. “I want my cum leaking out of you when you walk.”

His words sent another orgasm crashing into me, my body convulsing around him. I sobbed into his shoulder as he held me tighter, thrusting up into me harder, deeper, until he stiffened beneath me and groaned into my neck.

He came hard, pulsing inside me, filling me so full I felt it drip instantly.

But even as we sat there, tangled and breathless, I knew it wasn’t over.

He wasn’t done.

Neither was I.

He stood with me still on him, carried me across the room like I was nothing, and dropped me onto the bed. My legs were jelly. My body ached. But the look in his eyes—dark, feral—made me tremble with want.

He knelt between my legs, spreading them wide. “One more,” he said.

“Ragnar—”

He didn’t let me finish. His mouth closed over my clit and devoured me. Tongue fucking me, fingers stretching me open again, as his name fell from my lips in broken, breathless moans. Another orgasm. Another. And another, until I was crying from the pleasure.

When he finally pulled away, his face was slick with me, and he smiled like he’d conquered a kingdom.

“You belong to me, Astrid,” he said, kissing my thigh. “And I’ll remind you every night if I have to.”

I nodded, too fucked-out to speak. My body throbbed. My mind was a haze.

But somewhere in the depths of that exhaustion, I realized—

I didn’t want to be anywhere else.