Chapter 34
Thirty-Four
Astrid
Astrid didn’t remember any of the streets.
She didn’t even remember how they got from that alleyway up into the higher sections of Trollveggen, but suddenly they were there.
He stumbled a few times, cursing and adjusting himself before he’d hurry her along faster.
She would have laughed if she weren’t breathless herself.
For a man who struggled with anger, Bjorn sure was ignoring every single one of his triggers on the way.
People tried to stop to talk to them. There were plenty of shouted, “The Destroyer has returned!” Even a few people grabbed his arm, trying to stop his rapid speed. But he shrugged all of it off.
Higher and higher they climbed until she feared they were actually leaving the mountain.
But then he reached a door in the stone that looked like it had been carved there for centuries.
It didn’t open when he put his shoulder to it.
With a sigh, he planted both of his palms flat on the carved surface.
The carvings depicted a battle scene. She could see there were plenty of blood sprays carved in, most of them coming from humans it looked like, before it gave an answering groan and swung open.
He stood in the doorway, staring into the darkness while his barrel chest moved up and down with breaths he couldn’t seem to control. Finally, he shook his head and stepped inside.
“Sorry about the dust,” he muttered. “I thought someone would take care of it in my absence.”
She peered into the shadows, blinking as wisps lit up from every single corner of the room.
Suddenly she was faced with a very practical space.
The living room and kitchen were one big room, covered in dust just like he’d said.
There was a fine layer of gray over all the furniture, the counters, everything.
Even the giant fireplace in the back wall that took up the entirety of the space.
Astrid could stand in that fireplace if she wanted, could even lie down, and she still wouldn’t touch any of the corners.
Was this where he had grown up? It had to be. She had figured, though, that someone else would’ve taken the place. His father had died. Surely someone else would have used the space after his death? It made little sense to have an empty home like this.
She didn’t have time to look around or even think much more than that.
Bjorn lunged for her, his hands wrapping around her waist and lifting her.
Astrid had to wrap her legs around his waist to not dangle in the air, but the moment she locked her legs around him, all she could feel was the hard bar of his cock pressed against her core.
It was like someone had showered her with sparks from a fire. Everywhere tingled. Her fingers even seemed to go numb at the sensation of him grinding against her as he kissed her. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, could only feel every point where he touched her.
“I have waited for this moment,” he whispered, breaking away from her lips to trail down her neck. He kissed every inch of her skin he could reach. “You do not know how you have tormented me from the very first moment I saw you.”
She didn’t know if she should say she felt the same. She hadn’t. The trolls had been terrifying to her, and she’d seen him as a tool. There was much she had to pay penance for when it came to that.
He opened the door behind her, and they were plunged into darkness again. The wisps here seemed to have a hard time waking. They blinked on for a few seconds, and then the room was black again.
It left her staring at the images that seemed to jump in front of her.
One moment he was right in front of her, the next, her back hit a mattress.
And yes, there was dust. But all of that dust billowed up in sparkling pinpricks that danced in the light.
She stared up at the demon who loomed above her, his horns accentuated by the wisps behind him.
Curving and sharp, the tips glinted in the light.
Darkness. The sound of his heavy breathing filling the room, and her need making her squirm on the bed.
Then light again. All she could see was the image of Bjorn whipping his shirt off over his head, and the yellow light turning his abs and pectorals into peaks and valleys.
The shadows were stark, showing every single ripple of muscle that flexed over his ribs.
Her gaze trailed down to the startlingly hard abs that had stunned her the first time she’d seen them, and then darkness again.
The low sound of his growl echoed throughout the room. “Wisps,” he thundered. “Enough.”
The darkness had never terrified her, and he knew that. Now she had to use her other senses, and everything seemed so much more than before.
Suddenly she could hear him louder. Every touch made her jump until he soothed her with those big, broad hands. Even the scent of him, warm and comforting and familiar, seemed stronger than she remembered it being.
“Breathe,” he murmured into her ear as he slid down her body once again. “I’ve not even started yet.”
But now she could feel his skin against hers.
When he draped her legs over each of his shoulders, she pressed her bare calves against the heat of his back.
It made all of this seem that much more intimate as he devoured her once more.
His lips, his tongue, his fingers pressed inside of her.
She arched, hissing out a breath at the tightness of not one, but two fingers as he sank deeper and deeper into her.
The burn of the stretch didn’t hurt, though. She welcomed it, breathing deeply as he reached his knuckles. His thumb rubbed her clit, soothing her through the sting into pleasure that was nearly too much. It hurt, in the best way possible.
He moved up her body, his tongue and lips touching everything that he could along the journey. Murmuring in her ear, he said, “I don’t want to hurt you, bright one. You’re going to have to take a third.”
“A third?” she choked.
He nodded against her neck, his lips moving against her pulse as she felt him withdraw and then, yes, there was a third. A third finger that she was supposed to somehow take.
If it had been with anyone else, she would have shaken her head and tried to wriggle away. But Bjorn knew her. He knew how to read her anxiety, and he damn well knew how to distract her. He leaned closer to her ear, that deep, gravelly voice already doing more than he could have guessed.
“You cannot imagine what it’s going to feel like when I finally fuck you, bright one.
You’re untried, untested, and now the first man gifted the beauty of taking you will be the one who worships the ground you walk on.
There will be no pain, no ache, only my cock sinking into your cunt that is already weeping for me. ”
Astrid could feel how wet she was as his fingers pressed deeper.
There was that pinch again, the ache, but it immediately disappeared.
She was shocked she could take all three, but then she wasn’t thinking about that at all.
Because he was moving. In and out. Gliding through all the mess she had made and his words continued to make her core tighten around him.
“The moment you beg me to be inside you, I will be living in a dream. You’re so wet, bright one. So warm. You take my fingers so well, and I just know your greedy little cunt will feel like I’ve died in battle.”
She hadn’t even known he could say those filthy words. He was such a gentleman at all times, but now she didn’t want him to be a gentleman. She wanted him to do the exact things he was saying because she was so full of his fingers that surely he would be able to fuck her now.
She’d never expected she would even have thoughts like that. But she was desperate at this point.
“Bjorn,” she moaned, her body writhing. Astrid couldn’t control herself. She was moving, riding his fingers while seeking out that painful bliss that she knew he could give her.
Instead, he continued to bring her to the very edge, only to back off so she couldn’t quite reach that pivotal wonder. She was almost overheated now, her body coated in a fine sheen of sweat. Every time he exhaled, the air from his breath felt ice cold on her skin.
And then finally, finally, he rose above her. She could sense how hesitant he was, but also how desperately he wanted her.
She didn’t even jump when his cock pressed against her opening. The piercing at the tip was strange, but no stranger than his claws had been the first time she’d felt them.
“Gods,” he grunted, his hips giving a little buck that unseated his cock. It slid up and over her mound, dragging wonderfully against her clit until he notched himself once more. “You feel so good.”
The head of him sank into her, the pressure startling because it wasn’t like his fingers at all.
This was a foreign feeling. A wonderful feeling.
A fullness and a tightness that spread throughout her entire body.
She had thought she was warm before, but now she was an inferno as he moved at a glacial pace.
She wanted more. Wanted movement, thundering slaps as he slammed into her over and over again.
She wanted to feel the passion that she could sense simmering right under his skin.
Her magic rose to the surface, pulling and tugging at his desire even as he let out a sound that was all too similar to a whine.
“Don’t do that, Astrid.” His breath puffed against her neck. “I’m barely holding on to my control as it is.”
But she didn’t want his control. She wanted...
She just wanted.
So she plucked with her magic, weaving her own need into his until his hips jerked forward and he was flush against her. The tight pain of it was over in an instant, and then all she could feel was him. Breathing hard, she sank her teeth into his shoulder and then rolled her hips against him.
“More,” she whispered. “More, more, more.”
He was never one to disappoint. Bjorn slid out of her in one smooth glide that dragged his cock piercing along her inner walls. There was a certain section that made her seize up. It felt so good there, shockingly good, better than anything else had felt before.
She swore she felt his grin against her neck before he plunged into her again. One hard thrust, a feeling she would probably regret tomorrow, but then bliss. Aching, wonderful bliss as he bottomed out again, and that piercing somehow made it better in every way.
“Fuck,” he grunted, moving on his own now. There was a pace to it, a rhythm that they found together that made every part of her fracture.
The glide, the slow thrust, it rewrote everything she knew about pleasure. His whispered praises continued to make every part of her vibrate.
“You feel so good.”
“Every part of you is... perfect. Gods, Astrid, you’re perfect.”
At some point she lost track of how long they’d been going, only that his stamina was shockingly high.
And somehow, she wasn’t tired of it. It seemed like he knew how to build that peak higher and higher.
Every time she swore she was about to come, the pleasure only grew.
More and more until she was almost afraid to know what it would be like.
Until he snapped. His pace became blistering, brutal, every slap of his thighs against hers suddenly made her see stars and then...
Then.
Finally, she came with a cry that echoed in the room. She grabbed onto the dusty sheets, holding on with all she had so she wouldn’t scratch lines down his back even as he bellowed out his own pleasure. She could feel him. Twitching and pulsing inside of her.
The two of them spiraled down together, breathing hard, suddenly realizing that they were lying on a dusty bed, surrounded by the ghosts of his past. She expected him to tense up again.
Instead, he just rolled to the side, threw an arm over his eyes, and laughed. It was a bit ridiculous that he was laughing after what they’d done, but then she couldn’t help herself either. Astrid joined him, finding joy in the madness that had overcome the two of them.
The ache between her legs was still shocking, but what had they done?
They were like two teenagers, desperately seeking some kind of release before one’s parents got home.
They had explored each other’s bodies. He’d brought her nearly to ruin with those talented fingers and that impressive, massive beast of a cock between his legs.
He hooked an arm around her, dragging her onto his chest, where she lay half draped over him. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked, running his claws through her hair.
“No, of course not.”
But Bjorn knew her very well. His other hand slipped between her thighs, gently stroking the mess that was slowly leaking out of her. He noticed how she held her breath as he slid his fingers ever so carefully between her folds. “Ah, you’re sore. We’ll take care of that.”
“What are you going to do to help that?” she said with a chuckle, only to add in a shriek as he sat up with her in his arms.
Then he was hopping off the bed, picking her up like she weighed nothing and striding out into the light. She threw a hand over her eyes at the sudden brightness.
“Bjorn, what in the world are you doing?”
“Providing you with what you deserve, troll wife. After such pleasure, you deserve far more than just this.” He pushed another door open and brought her into a surprisingly clean bathroom.
Where all the other rooms were dust-covered, at least this one didn’t show quite as much damage.
Most of it was stone and very utilitarian.
She could see there was a section where one would relieve oneself, a sink, and a mirror.
Clearly, it was a home made for a man who lived alone.
But in the center of the room was a stunning tub carved out of the stone itself.
It sank into the back wall, where there appeared to be a metal bar sticking out of it.
“Here,” Bjorn said, seating her on the side and reaching for the bar. With a twist of his hand, water started coming out of a spigot. Warm water. Steam twirled up into the air, filling the tub surprisingly fast.
With a quick motion, he grabbed her and sat down in the water with her back pressed against his chest. “Now,” he murmured, relaxing into the water with her. “We relax, bright one. Let the water heal what I broke.”
“You broke absolutely nothing, Bjorn,” she whispered as she stroked his arm around her waist. “In fact, I think you might have healed me more than you know.”