She tensed. Ever so slowly, he slid one finger into her and let her muscles adjust to the size. He played with her for a little bit, stretching her hole with his finger, and then added another one. When he thought she was good and stretched out, nice and slicked up from her lubrication, he slipped his fingers from her and placed the tip of his cock at her anus.
He started to push into her and gripped her hips. She clenched around his cockhead, and once he was past the tight ring of muscle, he slid deep inside of her easily. They both groaned when he bottomed out, and he clenched his teeth at the pleasure that coursed through his veins. “That’s it, Agata. Take all of me. Do you feel how much I fill you?”
“God, yes,” she gasped out.
He started to pull out of her, but before she groaned he pushed back inside. Over and over he pumped in and out of her, starting slowly at first, but gradually picking up speed.
“Oh, yes, Stian. Yes.”
He tightened his hold on her hips, and really started fucking her. When he knew he’d come far sooner than he wanted, he reached around her belly with the hand that he hadn’t had buried in her ass and teased her clit. The little nub was swollen and hard, and he rubbed it back and forth until her whole body tensed and she threw her head back and groaned out her orgasm. She may have been on her hands and knees, but he could see her face, and watched the flush spread up her neck and cover her face.
He bent forward, not about to deny himself, and wrapped his hand loosely around her throat. Placing his mouth right on hers, he kissed her until they were both panting. He pumped harder, faster inside of her, until their skin slapped together.
Wave after wave of pleasure shot straight up his spine. His balls drew up tight, and he had to pull away from her and suck in a lungful of air. He held onto her hips so hard he knew there would be marks on her flesh, but he got a possessive thrill from the knowledge. He liked knowing she would wear his mark of ownership, because she was his, irrevocably.
He slowly pulled out, the head of his cock almost popping free, before he plunged back inside. She looked over her shoulder at him, her mouth parted, her eyes wide, and her face flushed. Their bodies were dotted with perspiration, and he wanted her soaking wet for him all over. He swallowed roughly and closed his eyes, knowing he was about to fill her ass with his seed.
For several long, intoxicating seconds he came, and when he couldn’t come any longer, he gently pulled out of her. He would have collapsed beside his wife, but he moved over to the basin of water he kept by the fire in their room and grabbed a wet rag to clean her with. She was on her belly now, her ass red from his spankings, her eyes closed. He put on a pair of leathers, and grabbed her shift that hung over the wooden chair by the fire. Stian cleaned her the best he could, then slipped in the bed beside her. She was warm and full, and he loved her more than the day before.
He stared at his wife, remembered their conversation years before when she’d spoken of where she’d come from, of the old woman and the herbs, and he knew that everything happened the way it should have. He’d hid nothing from her, told her about his life, everything he’d done. Speaking so openly with her had made them closer. Every day he loved her more; every moment he knew he’d die for her because she was his world.
“Are you happy, Agata?”
She turned over to face him and knitted her brows. “Of course I am. You’ve made a good life for us, Stian. You’re a good husband, a good father, and I know that staying here all those years ago was the best decision I’ve ever made.”
He smiled and pulled her closer. She was his, and nothing would take that away. It had been four years since he’d found her in those woods, and things had changed for them. She was his wife, the mother of his children, and the woman he was supposed to be with. They had three children now, and were trying for their fourth. Hell, he’d try having children with her until they could no longer.
Then, as if their little ones read his mind, they came running down the short hallway that led to their bunks, and climbed up on their large pallet. Their oldest, a son named Thorbjorn, a little over three years of age, had a big grin on his face as he cuddled up with Agata. Petrine was only a year younger than her older brother, and she was the spitting image of him. And lastly, their youngest, the baby, at less than a year old, was his son Amund.
Stian grabbed the baby from Thorbjorn, who acted more like a father to his younger siblings than the older brother. He pulled all of his children close, and leaned down to kiss Agata. She took the baby from him, and he smirked as she brought his son to her breast to nurse. Pride filled him that his children were here, and that the gods had given him all these gifts of happiness.