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Valkyrie Fallen Chapter 46

Writer's picture: Laurel KnightLaurel Knight



Warning: Spicy scene ahead! 18+ only


Brenna

I couldn’t resist making the play on his namesake, given that Björn meant ‘bear’ in ancient Norse. And the man was a bear: Big, burly chest, corded with muscle and covered in a fine coat of downy-soft hair that tapered on his belly until it expanded again near his hips. His body was large and thick between my thighs, skin hot and already slick with sweat in sheer anticipation. The heat of his skin was tantalizing between my legs, and I resisted the urge to rub myself against his belly.
Leaning back, I gazed at him for a long, pregnant moment. The moonlight washed out his coloring. His golden hair and beard could have been Helgi’s reddish tone. The deep blue of his eyes was dark in contrast with the brightness of his hair, and his lower lip pinched between his teeth. His expression betrayed his confusion: Björn was a man who wanted to take charge, but also wanted to please. I’d just told him that what would please me would be my taking control, and so now he fought against his instincts to give me what I wanted. Desire coursed through my body, pooling in my belly and making me slick with anticipation.
His massive hands slid along my legs, starting on my calves, sliding along the bend of my knees, then following my thighs back toward my hips, where they rested just above his groin. The light scratching sensation of his rough palms on my delicate skin left goosebumps in their wake. A shudder rippled through me, my nipples tingling and hardening in anticipation. It had been so long since I’d had someone touch me this way, just drinking in the sensation of each other’s fingertips on skin.
Björn’s fingers squeezed the flesh of my hips, but he still resisted the urge to steer and simply watched me, waiting for my cue.
Finally, I leaned forward and pulled his pinched lip free with my teeth, then dove into his mouth with my tongue. His tongue rose to meet mine, and his neck strained to return my sudden pressure with enthusiasm. While his hands remained on my hips, his fingers clenched, pulling my body tighter against him as him his body flexed beneath me.
My nipples brushed his chest, tingling at the light contact, and the clench in my core was all the encouragement I needed to get on with it.
I let one hand slip along his side, dragging my fingers lightly against his skin and noting the twitch response. When my hand passed over my body, I pulled away from his mouth, preventing him from following me with my other hand on his chest. Groping behind me, I delicately stroked the fiery skin of his erection, and the strangled groan he released in response made me grin.
With no desire to tease Björn, nor myself, any more, I lifted my hips and stroked his head against the slick flesh between my legs, angling it to my entrance. The mere sensation of his hardness pressing on my soft, slippery skin sent shudders through my belly, my eyes half closing as a moan escaped my lips.
I kept a firm grip on his shaft and Björn, half-crazed with desire, tried to muscle my body down faster with his hands on my hips, as I slid onto him at my own pace. He couldn’t rush me; I wanted to feel every inch as he filled me, appreciate each fresh sensation as he went deeper. 
“Woman, you’re going to kill me,” he growled, chin thrown back and hips bucking.
“Easy, my bear,” I teased. “We’ll get to the fury soon enough. Right now is the calm before the storm.”
As if remembering that his mission was to give me what I wanted, Björn relaxed his grip and eased the tension in his hips. He drew in a deep, shuddering breath, then waited for me to take my pleasure.
When my flesh hit the skin of his groin, I placed a few gentle kisses on his chest as I adapted to the feeling of his girth.
Then I sat up. The change put pressure in all the right places, all but guaranteeing, as I moved, that I would come, and hard.
First I started slowly, and Björn adapted quickly, pushing and pulling at my hips as he tried to match my rhythm with his body.
I pulled his hands from my hips and placed them on my breasts. It was a quality distraction for him as he squeezed and flicked my nipples, a pleasurable addition to my experience, and a removal of his interference in my work.
My pace picked up, my flesh sliding and grinding against Björn’s, my heart pounding. I got the angle just right, and I felt the first tingles of my oncoming orgasm. Sweat trickled down my neck, sticking the mop of my hair to my skin, but there was no time to stop and adjust. Now I was on a roll. I had to keep going.
Björn groaned his appreciation, his face scrunched up as he concentrated on holding out. The noises of our sexcapades seemed to echo in the empty barn: my panting, his groans, and the wet, squishy noises where our bodies met.
It’s so close… my body took on a direction of its own and I gave into it, following the instinct as it chased down the impending climax. Björn’s hands dropped from my breasts and gripped my thighs, knowing better than trying to steer this time and just holding on.
When I finally came, I shouted my release in a pained, almost heart-wrenching cry. My hips twitched against Björn a few more times, and I collapsed against his chest, gasping. Truly, it was a release, with a depth I wasn’t expecting that made me suddenly, surprisingly, teary. My heart banged against my ribs, and I felt the pounding of Björn’s heart beneath his sweat-slick skin.
Björn’s fingers stroked my head, and when he spoke, his voice rumbled in the barrel of his chest beneath my ear. “Have you had your pleasure, Little Bird?”
I grinned despite myself. “Yes, but I told you not to-”
With a shockingly fast move, Björn flipped me onto my back without disconnecting our bodies. My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, and when he thrust deep into me again, the furnace of my desire blazed to life.
“Good,” he growled, “because now it’s my turn. You rode me like I was your bear, but now I will show you how the bear rides.”
There was a mischievous glint in his eye, and I was momentarily concerned that this would be one of those rides during which I’d need to hold on with both hands and legs. But it turned out Björn had a few surprises up his sleeve.
He was a much more patient lover than I expected; he worked in long, slow strokes, easing out and sliding back into me with a delicious flick of his hips that turned me into the frenzied one. I pulled on his shoulders, trying to pepper him with kisses, using my legs for leverage to try to speed up his pace.
But Björn wouldn’t be rushed. Each thrust was patient and deep, and despite the lack of rapid friction, I felt myself rising to orgasm again. 
“I see you, Little Bird,” he purred in a gravelly voice, drawing my eyes to his steady gaze. “You want to rush, but trust me—it will be all the sweeter if we take our time.”
I nodded, then continued to hold his gaze while I focused on the slow, steady build I felt in my core. The way our bodies slid together, fitting, disconnecting, only to rejoin and fit again.
It was not easy for him; his skin was so hot I watched wisps of steam rise from him in the chilly night air. Sweat poured from his body, mingling with my own and puddling in the hollow between my breasts. 
I felt him throb within me; he was close.
And knowing that was all it took to send me over the edge. This time, my orgasm wasn’t a screaming, slapping affair. It was a wave that began with the curling of my toes and sent shudders up my body until it erupted in my belly like a volcano.
My entire body clenched, clamping down on Björn’s dick inside me and triggering his orgasm. I felt him pulse once, twice, three times against my tightened walls, and he groaned his release before collapsing on top of me. My legs remained locked around his hips for a few minutes until I could draw in a deep, shuddering breath. Then I relaxed my muscles, easing myself back onto the nest of canvas, and stroke his sweaty brow.
Björn. Bear. The name suited him. He was large, intimidating, strong, patient, and yet surprisingly gentle in the right circumstances.
I smiled to myself, knowing the ache in my hips would ease by morning, but he might need a little more time to recover.
If he got to call me Little Bird and I couldn’t do anything about it, then he deserved a nickname of his own.
He was my Björn. My Bear.
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