Dana Bell - Morgan's Fate

She rolled her eyes at his poor Barney the Dinosaur imitation. “Then how do we know that Sleipnir isn’t a lure too?”

He didn’t want to think that. It would break Logan’s heart if his son was still firmly on Grimm’s side. “It’s a chance we have to take, because if we’re wrong, Sleipnir could die.”

She sighed deeply. “That’s what I was thinking.” She put her finger over his lips. “I need to go with you. My power will be useful there.”

He scowled. The thought of her on the same plane as Grimm was unbearable. To have her actually enter Valhalla? He didn’t think he’d be able to stop himself from tearing the place down brick by golden brick. “Skye—”

“Listen to me. I could open my senses, see things before they happen. I could help you and Magnus avoid guards, alarms, that sort of thing.” She huffed. “I need to do something to help that scared kid, Magnus.”

He gazed down at her. He took in her determined expression, felt the way her fingers clenched on his biceps. She had a tight hold on him as she tried to convey how deeply she felt about this. “Shit.”

She grinned. She obviously knew she’d won. “What are we going to tell Logan and Kir?”

He tangled his legs with hers and settled next to her. He stroked her stomach absently. “I don’t know. We’ll think of something.”

“Uh, Morgan?”

She’d gone breathless under his touch. “Yes?”

“Could you stop touching me?”

“Why?” He slipped just the tips of his fingers beneath her blouse, touched her warm skin.

“Because I can’t think when you do that.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “And this is a bad thing why?”

She swatted him, but she was laughing. “Morgan.”

“I’m serious. We have to go talk to Magnus, set up how we’re going to get to the Bifrost Bridge without alerting either Logan or Kir. We have to make sure Mjol —mph.”

As far as he was concerned, they were done talking. They were in his bed, he was touching her, and damn it, he’d been a very good boy for longer than he cared to think.

If she didn’t push him away in the next two seconds, he was going to be a very happy man.

She curled her arms around his neck, her nails scratching at the nape of his neck. Her mouth opened under his, welcoming him inside.

He had to make sure. She’d had so much taken away from her, he wouldn’t take her choices. “If you don’t want this, stop me now.”

All traces of humor were gone. With the most serious expression he’d ever seen on her face, she reached between them and grabbed his cock through his jeans. “I think I’ve always wanted this.”

He shuddered. “Yes, we have.” From the way her eyes widened he knew how savage he sounded, but he didn’t care. Skylar Kincade was finally his, and he would make sure the entire world knew it.

In between kisses hotter than any he’d ever given or received they managed to remove their clothes. Elbows and knees flew, banging into each other as they eagerly got rid of the cloth that separated their skin. She was giggling, laughing as he ran his whiskers down her side again. The first time he hadn’t even done it on purpose. He’d just been trying to get his jeans off, and his hands slipped. His face scraped along her side, his whiskers tickling her, and she’d lost it.

It was the worst, most uncoordinated seduction he’d ever made, and it was the best feeling in the world. Her hands were running all over him even as she laughed. “Anything broken?”

“Other than my pride?”

She curled on her side, laughing, her legs bumping his knees.

He blew a raspberry on her thigh. “Brat.”

She drew her leg up, either trying to get away or give him one hell of a view. “Am not.”

He nipped her hip, sucking up a mark. “Are too.”

“Ugh.” She wasn’t laughing now. She was holding still, her muscles tense as he slowly rolled her onto her back.

He gazed into her eyes and saw his future laid out before him. He was never going to let her walk away ever again. He just wasn’t strong enough. “Hi.”

She stroked his hair away from his face. “Hi.”

When she tugged him down for a kiss he went, the urgency that had been eating at him nearly gone. She deserved better than for Morgan to revert to his Viking roots, fucking her like he would some wench tumbled in a tavern.

He would show her how much she meant to him. He’d yearned for centuries for her, dreamed of her even when he was balls deep in someone else. He would do everything he could to show her what she meant to him. She was precious, and he would prove it to her.

The lazy slide of skin on skin intoxicated him. The scent of her filled his senses. He was drowning in her, kissing down her body, taking his time to worship her as she deserved. He lingered over her nipples, slowly loving them into hard, wet peaks, her sighs his reward. She moaned when he reached her stomach, the muscles tightening under his touch. She no longer squirmed away from the feel of his whiskers. Instead, she arched into his touch, begging him silently for more.

When he reached the apex of her thighs she opened eagerly for him, inviting him to taste, to touch, to feast on her until they were both sated. She moaned at the first touch of his tongue, moving her hips until they’d established a rhythm that had her panting with need.

Before too long she was coming on his tongue, her little gasps and sighs becoming one long, drawn-out groan. She cried out beneath him, her body bowing, arching, thrusting her beautiful breasts upward, and begging for his touch.

When she came down, her back once more on the bed, her legs wide and loose around him, he moved up her body again. He kissed each breast before he took her mouth once more, letting her taste herself on his tongue.

She pushed at his shoulder and he went where she directed, landing on his back. Oh, man. Please, please let her be about to return the favor.

She did, bending so swiftly to his cock he had no doubt as to her hunger for him. She sucked him in and took him deep, almost to the root. He buried his hands in her hair, not guiding, simply holding on for dear life.

Just before he thought he would lose it she let him go with a wet plop. Where he’d worshipped her, she’d devoured him, awakened his deepest hungers. She straddled him, but before she could take him inside he took back the control she’d stolen from him.

He grabbed her hips and pulled her up with him until his head rested against the headboard, his shoulders propped up. When she took him into her body he pulled her head down, kissing her, fucking her mouth with his tongue.

She rode him steadily, deeply, her head thrown back in pleasure. He stroked between her legs, the hard nub of flesh slick under his fingers. She whimpered when he pulled her forward, sucking her nipple between his teeth, biting down gently. He wanted her to come, to strangle him in her wet heat, to— She cried out, her movements stuttering almost to a stop. She spasmed around him, her pussy clenching him so hard he almost came with her.

Almost.

He grabbed a hold of her hips and held her steady as he pounded into her, all sense, all reason lost in the pleasure of her. The worship was over. It was time to conquer, to claim. He wanted to mark her, to brand her so that she never even looked at another man.

Skye sobbed, her nails digging into his chest as he dug his feet into the mattress and took her. “Fuck me. Oh, gods, fuck me harder.”

Morgan saw red, his vision narrowed down to her. Her face, her body, filled him as he gave her what she’d begged for. He fucked her hard and deep, his balls drawing tight as he neared his peak.

She screamed, her nails drawing little half circles of blood in his flesh as she came again. This time, Morgan tumbled over the edge with her, his own cries nearly drowning hers out.