because she had to know.
She had to know what it would feel like.
On some level she was appalled with herself for failing, yet again, to be as explicit as he’d been. Since when had she become so prudish? She was an academic. Not some sheltered adolescent tucked away in a convent somewhere, unable to form dirty words without imagining she’d be struck down from on high.
But she couldn’t seem to make herself say any of the words she might have used. She couldn’t seem to force herself to be more specific.
Thor shifted. He bent toward her, and her hips lifted of their own accord, but all he did was press his lips against the inner slope of one thigh.
“Is that what you mean?” he asked, and she could feel the words against her tender skin, as if he was tattooing them there with his own lips. As if there was no part of her he wouldn’t mark. “I am between your legs, am I not?”
Another wave of heat swept over her. It even pricked at the backs of her eyes, and Margot was suddenly horrified at the notion she might actually cry.
Even more so that she would do it in front of Thor.
Here, while she was supposedly researching Icelandic sex traditions.
She didn’t understand how he could be doing these remarkably physical things to her, but her body seemed to want to process them as emotions.
Too many emotions to bear.
Margot didn’t want to understand.
But she was too hot. She felt raw and exposed, and greedier than she’d ever imagined she could feel. About anything.
It was as if she had never wanted before in all her life.
As if everything before this moment was pale. Insubstantial. As pointless as a single candle against the howling blizzard outside.
But she told herself that was the point.
She was here to try to understand this land of fire and ice in the most intimate way possible. The way the locals did.
“My...pussy,” she forced herself to say, and managed to get the word out without stuttering like a child. “I want your mouth on my pussy, Thor. Please.”
If he noticed that she’d come perilously close to begging after all, he didn’t mention it. She felt his mouth curve, there against the soft inside of her thigh. Then he lifted his head and that was worse. Or better.
He looked like some kind of god. Old-world and elemental. Fierce and uncompromising, and entirely bent on destruction.
Margot had never wanted so badly to be destroyed in all her life.
“Your wish is my command,” he told her, his voice dark and lazy, with an edge to it that made her wonder a little bit wildly what it would be like to choose to follow his commands.
In the sorts of very specific ways she imagined he practiced nightly in his own, personal dungeon.
He adjusted the way he held her, and she thought he would take the opportunity to make more challenging remarks. To draw this out even further—
But instead he bent and set his mouth there where she needed him the most.
He didn’t simply lick into her.
He ate at her.
Thor growled as he feasted on her sodden, tender flesh, then sucked on her clit until she bucked.
He was greedy. Thorough. Impossibly hot. He went back and forth, keeping her on edge and unable to predict what he’d do next—
When the first wave hit her, it seemed to come from nowhere. Margot felt herself stiffen and then the ripples spread, getting more and more intense by the second, until she was jerking against his hold.
And Thor didn’t stop.
He rode out her orgasm, as if he wanted to eat it whole, too. And something about that image made it worse—or made it more intense—and so it went on and on and on.
But so did he.
Margot thought she had stopped coming, or maybe it was one long orgasm with no beginning and no end, a rise and a fall and then a lush sweep right back into it all over again.
She went from peak to peak, rolling over and over, until she lost all awareness of herself. She didn’t care if she was too bright, too red. She didn’t care that she’d locked her legs around his neck, that she was arched up off the bed in total abandon or that she was grinding her pussy into his mouth.
All she cared about was this. Sensation after sensation, chasing each other toward something bigger. Brighter.
Too wild to name.
Eventually, the storm blew itself out.
Or he decided it had. Margot couldn’t tell.
Thor pulled her legs from around him and settled her back on his bed, smiling a little as if he knew exactly how limp and wrung out she was.
Margot couldn’t breathe. And the crazy part was, she didn’t much care about that the way she knew she had before.
He straightened and stood there over her, and her heart pounded all over again as she stared up at that hard, wicked mouth of his. It was as if he was still pressed against her, his tongue and his teeth and that jaw of his driving her into madness.
How could it be that he didn’t even have to do it again? That the memory of what he’d just done pushed her toward that edge all over again...
Margot felt dizzy, but she didn’t want to analyze it.
It was easier to look at him instead. So big. So tall. Every inch of him a conquering Viking, packed with hard muscle, that tousled dark blond hair, and those gleaming blue eyes of his that burned wherever they touched her.
And he’d told her to ask for what she wanted, so she did.
“I want your clothes off,” she told him, and her heart was still beating too hard, so she couldn’t pay attention to how strange she sounded. How unlike herself. “Now.”
Thor’s mouth didn’t move. But she could see the hard sort of smile in the blue of his eyes. He inclined his head and then stretched out his arms to the sides as if he was surrendering.
But she didn’t think either one of them believed he was doing anything of the kind.
His eyes were the bluest she’d ever seen. “Do as you like.”
It was couched as an invitation. So there was no reason it should have felt like an order.
But there was that fever in her, making it impossible for Margot to care about feelings. Not when she was still so wet and greedy.
Not when she still wanted him more than she wanted her next breath.
And
