He moved in and out of her slowly, but just like before started picking up speed until the sound of their skin slapping together filled her ears. He growled out and held onto her hips in a bruising grip.
She lowered her head and looked down the length of her body, could see the heavy weight of his balls swinging as he thrust in and out of her, and opened her mouth in a silent cry.
“Konna, gefa alt av deg til mín.” He groaned and grunted the words in that deep voice of his, and her pleasure increased. And then he was holding her hips so tight that the pain had her gasping out. He buried himself deep inside of her, and she swore she felt the hard jets of his seed fill her.
Agata should have been worried about them not using protection, although given the state he lived in, so old world, she doubted he even knew what a condom was. But still, she should have taken better precautions, been stronger in keeping her distance from this man. He was murmuring these harsh and guttural things. He filled her with his cum, bathing her in it until all she could feel, smell, and hear was Stian.
He covered her back with his chest, and his hard pants of breath bathed the nape of her neck. Her arms shook as she held herself up, and when he pulled out of her she allowed herself to fall forward. Stian lay down beside her, but before she could even take another breath he had his thick arm wrapped around her waist and had her pulled in close to him. Her skin was sweaty, his cum and her arousal covered her pussy and inner thighs, but she couldn’t even find the strength to move.
“Konna,” he said huskily.
This misplaced and totally strange feeling filled her when he leaned down and kissed the crown of her head. Agata should have thought more on that, realized that being here with Stian had started off being one of the worst experiences of her life, but now it didn’t seem so bad.
What did that say about her that she had slept with her captor, that she’d witnessed him nearly take down a whole village to protect her, and she’d gone back home with him? Was she sick in the head, lonely, suffering from some kind of psychological issue because she did want Stian in this way?
He pulled the hide over them, one that felt butter soft and smelled of him. Agata shouldn’t have felt safe, protected in his arms. But she did, and she actually drifted off to sleep with his warrior caging her in like she was his most precious prisoner.
Chapter Nine
It was like a soft brush of chilled air over her bared arm, a whisper in her ear, a feeling of being watched. It was those sensations that had Agata slowly opening her eyes, blinking, as the fire burning from the center basin was a little too bright right away, and looking around. She thought for sure someone would be in the hut, knew that they weren’t alone even though she couldn’t see anyone.
Getting up and slipping out from the heavy fall of Stian’s arm, she sat on the edge of the pallet and looked over her shoulder at him. He turned around, his big body rippling with power even though he was at rest. She grabbed one of the thinner blankets off the edge of the pallet and wrapped it around herself. He was either a heavy sleeper, which she didn’t know if she believed, or she was dreaming. The latter made more sense, although this felt so real. She felt the warmth of the fire, felt the chill of the outside seep through the coarse burlap that covered the windows.
Wrapping the blanket around herself, she stood, looked at Stian once more, and then turned her gaze toward the door. She could leave again, just get dressed, grab what she could, and try to leave before Stian woke up. But this was a dream … right?
But she wasn’t a fool, knew she couldn’t make it out there with the temperature dropping, the night having fallen, and who knew what in the hell lurked in the shadows. Besides, there was something shifting inside of her, something that said she liked being wrapped up in Stian’s arms. Another part of her said she couldn’t stay here. She needed to find out where she was and how to get home.
The wind picked up, howling through the cracks in the hut, threatening to burst the place down no matter how strong it was. She went over to one of the windows, pulled the burlap aside, and looked into the murky darkness. Stian made a noise, and she looked at the pallet. But there she was, lying right beside him, his big hand on her hip, his fingers curled into her skin. He whispered something deep and sleep-filled against her neck, and even though she stood feet from the bed, clearly dreaming all of this, she swore she felt the sensation of his breath along her flesh.
“You have acclimated nicely to this world, child.” The woman’s voice came from right beside her, and Agata turned and stared at the elderly woman she’d seen at the festival. That seemed so far away now, so distant and surreal.