The heavy doors to their private chambers clicked shut behind them, sealing out the noise and pageantry of the coronation day. Ragnar let out a long breath. His patience had frayed hours ago, worn thin by the endless formal greetings he had been forced into, and the sight of Circe in that crimson gown all day. The fabric had tornted him from across the throne room, drawing his eyes to the swell of her breasts and the sway of her hips with every graceful step.
Even after years together, his desire for her burned hotter than ever. So days, it was a miracle he managed to get anything done at all.
Circe crossed to the vanity and sat down. She reached up and began pulling pins from her hair. He could hear each soft click as they landed on the wooden surface.
Catching his reflection in the mirror, she offered him a small smile, the kind that still made his heart flutter after all these years.
Ragnar moved behind her without a word. His large hands were gentle as he took over, helping her remove the remaining pins. One by one, they worked together until her long, dark hair spilled down her back in thick, lustrous waves.
He gathered the heavy mass and swept it over one shoulder, exposing the smooth column of her throat. Leaning down, he pressed his lips there, trailing slow, feather-light kisses along her skin. He felt her pulse flutter beneath his lips.
"I should call a maid to help with the dress," she murmured, though her voice had already grown husky.
Ragnar’s lips curved against her throat.
"No need. Why call a maid when I’m right here?"
He took her hand and helped her to her feet. Standing behind her, he worked at the fastenings of her gown with ease, taking his ti and savoring every mont. Each hook and tie ca undone slowly, the anticipation between them building with every passing second. The gown loosened inch by inch before finally sliding from her body and pooling at her feet in a rich heap of crimson silk.
Next ca the corset. His fingers brushed against her back as he loosened the laces. When it finally fell away, she stood before him in nothing but a thin white shift. The material was nearly transparent in the warm glow of the lamplight.
Ragnar’s eyes t hers in the mirror. Reaching around her, he cupped one breast through the fabric, his thumb stroking over the hardened peak. Circe leaned back against him with a soft moan. He took the other breast in his free hand, familiar enough with her body to know exactly how to draw a response from her.
The hard line of his arousal pressed against her lower back, and he felt her shift against him in return.
Turning her in his arms, he scooped her up effortlessly. Circe laughed as he carried her to the large bed and laid her down on the sheets. Looming over her, he hooked his fingers beneath the hem of her shift and drew it up and away.
Ragnar allowed his gaze to wander over her, completely enthralled by the sight before him. His eyes moved over every familiar curve—the fullness of her breasts, the gentle curve of her stomach, the flare of her hips.
She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
Her body had given him three children, and she remained every bit as breathtaking as the day he had first fallen in love with her.
She was perfect and with every passing year, she sohow beca more beautiful.
"I can’t get enough of you," he murmured, his voice rough with affection and desire. "You’ve thoroughly bewitched ."
He lifted his gaze to hers. "Tell what you want. Anything, and I’ll do it."
Circe licked her lips. "I want you to make love to ."
That was all it took.
Ragnar quickly rid himself of his own clothes and joined her on the bed. He began with his hands, letting them roam over her body as though rediscovering every inch of her. His mouth followed, leaving lingering kisses wherever his hands had been monts before. Circe lted beneath the attention, her fingers finding their way into his hair.
He brought her close to the edge, only to ease back and leave her wanting more. Then he did it again. By the second ti, her breathing had grown uneven, and she shifted restlessly against the sheets.
When she began to squirm too much, dark tendrils of shadow slipped from his fingertips and curled around her wrists and ankles, holding her firmly in place. The restraint drew a louder sound from her, and Ragnar’s expression darkened with satisfaction.
The shadows obeyed his will as naturally as breathing. One coiled lazily around her wrist while another traced cool paths along her skin, heightening every sensation. Circe’s head tipped back against the pillow as she surrendered to his attention.
He kept his focus entirely on her, taking his ti, drawing out every reaction, every breathless sound. When she reached her peak, her body trembled through the aftershocks, and she lay panting against the sheets.
Ragnar did not loosen the restraints keeping her in place.
While she caught her breath, still held securely beneath him, he leaned closer until his lips brushed her ear.
"Look at you." His breath was warm against her skin. "Spread open for , dripping, desperate. I’ve been thinking about this all day, about how wet you get when I take my ti with you." He pressed a kiss to the shell of her ear. "I’ve always wondered how it would look to see your sweet cunt clutch around my shadows while I fuck you with them."
Circe’s breath hitched when she felt the solid, blunt head of sothing nudge against her entrance. It wasn’t his cock, she was sure of that. Instead it was sothing firm and slightly ridged from the way he’d shaped it.
She glanced down between her spread legs and watched, transfixed, as a thick shadow tendril pushed inside her slowly. Inch by inch, it filled her, cool at first before quickly warming with her heat. Her walls clenched around it instinctively, growing slicker with every inch he fed her.
Ragnar kept his eyes on her face as the shadow began to move in steady, deep strokes, angling to brush against the spot that made her eyes flutter shut in bliss. Another, smaller tendril circled her clit, vibrating lightly. The contrast between the cool intrusion and the heat steadily building inside her was overwhelming.
Circe’s head fell back against the pillow once more, moans spilling freely from her lips as the rhythm intensified. Her second orgasm crashed over her even harder than the first, her body shaking and her thighs trembling against the bonds. Her cunt clenched around the dark tendril with every contraction.
Ragnar watched and enjoyed every second of it.
Even as she ca down from the peak, still gasping for breath, the tendril gave one final, lazy thrust before slipping free.
He freed her limbs before he settled himself between her thighs. His cock, hard and heavy, nudged against her soaked entrance. He pushed in with one smooth thrust and groaned at the tight, wet heat that welcod him.
They moved together, slow and deep, savoring the mont, then faster as need took over. His mouth found hers in a hungry kiss while he drove into her again and again. Circe wrapped her legs around his waist, her nails dragging down his back.
He fucked her through another shuddering release before his own climax finally hit, a low, broken groan spilling from his throat as he ca deep inside her.
They remained joined for a long mont afterward, struggling to catch their breath. Ragnar brushed a damp strand of hair from her face and kissed her gently.
"I love you," he murmured against her lips. "Always will."
"I love you too." Circe offered him a tired smile but her words were genuine.
***
After a long while of being wrapped up in each other, Ragnar shifted until he was looking down at her while she lay beneath him, her dark hair fanned across the pillow, her skin flushed from their lovemaking. He studied her face the way he sotis did when he thought she wasn’t paying attention.
Then he leaned down and kissed her. His hand rose to cup her jaw. She made a small sound against his mouth and returned the kiss with the sa tenderness. He finally pulled away and pressed his lips to the tip of her nose.
He t her gaze once more and the words he held in his heart left him before he could think better of them.
"Marry ."
Circe blinked in surprise. "But we are already married."
"Marry again. Make the happiest man in the world." His voice ca out lower and rougher than he intended. "Our first wedding was a spectacle for Nheera and the nobles. Let’s do it right this ti. Just us and our children."
He had been furious back then—furious at all the scheming, at being maneuvered into it like a piece on soone else’s board. He couldn’t have known then what it would beco.
What she would beco to him.
Circe searched his face carefully. Whatever she found there made sothing in her expression soften. A smile began at the corner of her mouth and spread slowly until it illuminated her entire face.
"Yes." She let out a breathless laugh. "Yes, let’s get married again." Her eyes shone as she looked at him. "I want that more than anything."
The relief hit him instantly. Not because he had doubted her but there was sothing different about hearing her say it aloud. Hearing that she wanted it too.
He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. Then he guided it back and held it flat against his sternum, directly over his heart.
"You own this," he said quietly. "Feel it. It beats for you. A piece of will always belong to you. Even after I leave this world, whatever remains of will still yearn for you."
Circe’s fingers curled slightly against his chest.
"My heart is yours as well." Her voice was soft but unwavering. "And even after we leave this world—even when we are no longer Circe and Ragnar—my soul will find yours. Because a piece of lives inside you."
Beyond those walls, years would pass, kingdoms would rise and fall, and their children would grow. But in that mont, none of it mattered.
There was only him.
There was only her.
And the promise that, no matter what beca of them, they would always find their way back to each other.
————
The end.
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