ASTRID’S POV

As soon as the door shut behind us, Ragnar turned, ready to pull me into his arms again. But this time, I stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“My turn,” I whispered, voice low.

His eyes widened slightly, caught between surprise and something darker—something primal. I didn’t give him a chance to speak. I walked him backward, fingers tugging at the ties of his tunic, until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed. He sat down, breath ragged, watching me like a man caught in a spell.

“You want control tonight?” he asked, voice husky.

I nodded. “I want to feel you beneath me. I want to watch your face.”

His eyes darkened, lips parting. “Then take me, Astrid.”

I straddled him slowly, dragging my skirts up over my hips as he reached for my waist. His hands didn’t guide—I made sure of that. They simply rested there, warm and reverent, as I undid the ties of my bodice and let it fall. When I was bare to him, he leaned back, eyes raking over every inch of me.

“Gods, you are beautiful,” he whispered. “Every inch of you—full, soft, perfect.”

I felt my cheeks heat, but I didn’t look away. Instead, I reached between us, freeing him from his trousers. He was already hard, thick and pulsing, and the way his breath stuttered when I brushed my fingers over him made my whole body tighten.

“I’ve never seen anything like you,” he murmured, eyes locked on mine.

I guided him to my entrance, hovering just above, and his hands tightened on my waist.

“Slow,” he breathed. “Let me feel every part of you.”

I lowered myself onto him, inch by inch, gasping at the stretch. He filled me so completely I couldn’t breathe. His head fell back, a broken groan tearing from his throat.

“Gods, Astrid… you’re so tight. So warm. You feel like heaven.”

I moved slowly at first, adjusting to the fullness, to the pressure of him inside me. His hands stayed at my hips, fingers digging in just enough to remind me he was there—beneath me, for me.

“You’re shaking,” he said, looking up at me, awe in his voice. “Is that all for me?”

“Yes,” I whispered, grinding down on him. “Only you.”

He groaned again, deeper this time, his eyes fluttering shut as I began to ride him in slow, deliberate rolls of my hips. His hands moved up, brushing over my breasts, cupping them with care before his thumbs brushed my nipples, making me cry out.

“You’re glorious,” he murmured, sitting up so he could take one in his mouth. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, clutching him closer as he licked and sucked, every touch sending sparks through me.

When I moved faster, his grip on my hips tightened, and his breath came harder.

“Gods, you’re driving me mad,” he rasped. “Watching you like this… feeling you… it’s too much.”

I moaned and kept going, bouncing on him now, chasing my own release. The way he watched me—eyes dark and hungry, jaw tight with restraint—it undid something inside me.

“I want you to come with me,” I gasped.

“Then take it,” he said, voice thick with need. “Ride me until you fall apart.”

And I did.

Pleasure slammed into me like a wave, ripping through my body as I cried out his name. My walls clenched around him, and that was all it took. He held me tight as he spilled inside me, groaning into my neck, his entire body tensing beneath mine.

We stayed that way, locked together, our skin damp and breaths mingled.

“You ruined me,” he whispered.

I smiled, still breathless. “Good.”

His hands stroked my thighs gently, lovingly. “You’ve changed everything.”

I leaned down to kiss him softly. “Then don’t let it go.”

He kissed me back, slower this time. Tender. Full of promise.

And just outside, we heard footsteps pounding on the earth.

He pulled away from the kiss, breath catching. “Stay here,” he said, already rising to dress. “Something’s wrong.”