Chapter 40
More Please
Astrid Mathieson
I wake to cold air on my face and the press of warm fur at my back. For a split second, instinct kicks in—threat assessment, location check, weapon status—before memory floods back. The cabin. Fen. The mating bond. My new wolf.
The fire has died to barely glowing embers, leaving the cabin chilly and dim. Dawn light filters weakly through the single window, turning the rough wooden walls a soft gray. Fen's arm is heavy across my waist, his breathing deep and even against my shoulder.
The wolf inside me stretches lazily, satisfied in a way I've never experienced. Not anxious. Not restless. Just... content. It's weird as hell.
I shift slightly, testing the various aches in my muscles. Good aches. The kind that remind you you're alive after thinking you were dead. That's a new one for my collection of bodily sensations.
Death was strange… I remember being cold. An empty field. A woman with beautiful wings. And then I was waking up in that bedroom in Frigga’s palace.
I turn my head to study Fen's sleeping face. His features are relaxed, dark hair falling across his forehead, lips slightly parted.
I can sense his contentment even in sleep. A low-level hum of connection that seems to vibrate between us like a plucked string. It’s different than it was before. Before it was like a pull, a need. Now it’s like a tether.
The wolf gives a mental nudge. Mine.
Ours, I correct, and feel her smug agreement.
My gaze travels down Fen's body, mostly covered by furs but with one shoulder exposed. The silvery scar I left there gleams in the dim light. Mine. That mark means something. It means everything, according to what he told me before we passed out in a tangle of limbs.
My hand moves of its own accord, tracing the outline of the scar with my fingertip.
A possessive thrill runs through me. I did that.
I marked him. Fen doesn't stir, his breathing remaining deep and even.
I press a little harder, feeling a surge of satisfaction as the connection between us pulses at the contact like a live wire.
Is this what people mean when they talk about love? This bone-deep certainty? This physical pull? I've never been in love. Never had time for it. Never prioritized it, never trusted it. But this feels... inevitable. Like gravity. Like something I couldn't fight even if I wanted to.
And I don't want to.
A mischievous impulse hits me. The wolf gives an approving growl in my mind.
With careful movements, I slide beneath the furs, trailing my fingers down his chest. His skin is hot beneath my touch, muscles twitching slightly as I trace the ridges of his abdomen.
I follow the trail of dark hair that narrows below his navel, a surge of satisfaction running through me when I find him already hard.
I wrap my fingers around him, enjoying the contrast of velvet skin over steel. His breath hitches slightly, though his eyes remain closed. He’s not awake yet…
Slowly, I lower my head, replacing my hand with my mouth. The taste of him is salt and musk and I love it. I explore what makes his breathing hitch, what draws the first sleep-rough groan from his throat.
His hand moves to my hair, fingers tangling in the strands. I glance up to find golden eyes watching me, half-lidded with pleasure and remnants of sleep. A surge of satisfaction heats my blood.
"Astrid," he rasps, voice thick with desire. "What a way to wake."
I release him just long enough to offer a sharp grin. "Morning."
His head falls back against the furs, eyes closing briefly as I take him deeper. The bond between us amplifies everything. I can almost taste his pleasure on my tongue. It’s a hot, electric current that races through my veins and pools low in my belly.
Every groan vibrates through me. His heartbeat thunders in my ears alongside mine. His muscles tighten under my palm as tension coils tighter in his body. It's intoxicating, this feedback loop between us. My actions driving his pleasure. His pleasure fueling mine.
"If you continue that," he warns, fingers tightening in my hair, "I won't last."
Good. There's something deeply satisfying about reducing this powerful man to breathless moans and helpless movements. His hips rise slightly, careful not to push too much, still mindful even lost in sensation.
Part of me appreciates his control but another part of me wants to shatter that restraint completely. I want to drive him wild enough that he forgets to be gentle. I want to be the one thing he can't maintain discipline around.
The fact that he's still holding back, still protecting me even as pleasure tears through him, makes my chest tighten with unexpected emotion. He values me. But I also want to be the reason his control finally breaks.
And he’s about to break. His muscles tense beneath my free hand where it rests on his thigh. Just as he approaches the edge, his hand tightens in my hair, pulling me away.
"Enough," he growls, eyes fully gold now. "Hands and knees."
The command sends heat pooling between my thighs, the wolf and the woman in me shiver in anticipation.
My breath catches as he manhandles me into position.
My skin prickles with anticipation, feeling exposed and powerful all at once.
I arch my back slightly, an invitation. A demand of my own.
The bond between us pulses with shared hunger. Fuck yes.
His hand slides down my spine, ending with his fingers between my legs. "So wet for me," he murmurs, his voice a rumble that sends shivers through me. "Beautiful woman."
His fingers explore thoroughly, one then two pushing inside. The careful intrusion sends sparks racing up my spine, my body already primed and desperate from pleasuring him. His satisfaction at finding me so ready seeps into me through our connection.
I push back against his hand, needing more. My patience is completely shot. "Fuck, Fen," I manage, the words barely coherent. "More."
"No rushing," he says, amusement coloring his tone even as his fingers continue their maddening rhythm. His other hand grips my hip, holding me steady as I try to take control of the pace.
His pleasure feeds mine in an endless circuit that's driving me insane. "Tell me more of what?" He curls his fingers inside me, finding a spot that makes my elbows buckle.
"You," I gasp as his thumb presses more firmly against my clit. My arms tremble with the effort of holding myself up, sweat beading along my spine despite the cabin's chill. "Inside me. Now. Please."
The last word isn't one I use often, but I'm beyond pride. I need him with a desperation that would frighten me if I had any capacity left for fear.
He leans over me, his chest against my back, lips brushing my ear. The heat of him blankets me. His heart hammers against my back. His control is hanging by a thread. Good.
"Since you asked so nicely," he whispers, the words a hot caress against my skin.
The anticipation is almost unbearable, my entire body is as taut as a bowstring, waiting for release.
Before I can shoot back a reply, he's positioning himself and pushing forward in one long stroke that steals the breath from my lungs.
He pauses when fully seated, giving me a moment to adjust to the stretch and fullness.
His breath comes heavy against my shoulder, his control evident in the trembling of the arms bracketing mine.
"Move," I urge, pushing back against him impatiently.
His hips withdraw and snap forward again, setting a pace that's just this side of rough. Each thrust pushes a small sound from my throat, pleasure building rapidly with the perfect angle.
One of his hands leaves my hip to wrap in my hair, pulling my head back. "I want to hear you," he growls. "Don't hold back."
As if to emphasize his point, he changes the angle slightly, hitting a spot inside me that makes me cry out, stars exploding behind my eyes. The sound drives him harder, his pace increases. The slap of skin on skin fills the cabin.
Without warning, he pulls me upright so my back presses against his chest, my knees spread wide across his thighs. The new position drives him impossibly deeper, and I reach back to grasp his hair, anchoring myself.
His hands move to my breasts, cupping and kneading, thumbs flicking over my nipples. I arch into his touch, head falling back against his shoulder. He takes advantage of the exposed column of my throat, lips finding the mark he left last night.
The moment his tongue touches the sensitive scar it's as though every nerve ending in my body ignites simultaneously, pleasure so intense it borders on pain.
The dual sensation of his mouth on the mark and his body moving inside mine is too much.
I shatter with a cry, walls clenching around him as waves of pleasure crash over me.
All I know is his mouth on my neck, his hands on my breasts, his body driving into mine. My vision whites out at the edges. My lungs struggling to draw breath.
Through the haze of my own release, I feel Fen's rhythm falter, his grip tightening to the point of bruising.
The echo of my pleasure rebounds through our connection and slams back into him.
I feel the exact moment he releases. His breath is hot and ragged against my neck.
My name tears from his throat like a prayer or a curse.
He pulses inside me, each throb sending aftershocks of pleasure rippling through my oversensitive body.
The bond transmits his release to me in waves of heat and satisfaction, extending my own climax until I'm trembling and incoherent beneath him.
It's too much and not enough and perfect all at once.
Fen takes us down to the floor gently. He presses gentle kisses along my shoulder and neck, his arms wrap around me and spreads one hand possessively across my stomach.
"That," he says eventually, "is a hell of a way to wake up."
A laugh escapes me, slightly breathless. "Noted for future reference."
He turns me around to face him. His expression is softer than I've ever seen it, golden eyes warm with something that makes everything inside me turn to goo. His thumb traces my lower lip, gaze following the movement with intense focus.
"You're remarkable," he murmurs. "My fierce mate."
"Still figuring out the mate… err wolf part," I admit, pushing hair from his forehead. "She's... present. More settled after last night, but definitely still there."
He nods. "You'll learn to work together rather than fighting for control."
"She likes you," I say, the words emerging before I fully form the thought. "The wolf, I mean. She's very... possessive."
His smile turns predatory. "As is mine." His hand moves to the mark on my neck, fingers brushing it lightly. Even that gentle touch sends a shiver through me.
I consider asking about what comes next, about this world, about so many things. But the warmth of the furs and Fen's body, the pleasant ache in my muscles, and the contentment flowing through the bond make it all seem distant and unimportant.
"We could just stay here," I murmur against his chest. "Just for today."
His arms tighten around me, lips pressing against my hair. "The world and its problems will still be there tomorrow."
"Is that a yes?"
I feel his chuckle rumble through his chest. "Yes, Astrid. That is a yes."
Something about those simple words settles deep inside me.
Today is ours. Tomorrow might bring new challenges, enemies to face, a world to navigate with my new form and this bond between us.
But for now, there's only this—warmth, connection, and the unfamiliar but welcome sensation of being exactly where I'm supposed to be.
I've never been one for fairy tales or happy endings. Never believed in fated connections or soul mates. But as Fen's breathing deepens and I follow him toward sleep, the wolf inside me curled contentedly around this new certainty, I think perhaps I'm beginning to understand.
This feeling. This belonging. It’s love. I know it is.
And it fits.