He backed her against the heavy oak door, his body pinning hers, his mouth crashing down on hers once more. This wasn't the exploratory kiss from the office, this was a claiming one.
His tongue plunged deep, tasting the wine on her breath and the sheer, unadulterated need she radiated. She moaned into his mouth, her hands scrambling at his back, her nails digging into the fabric of his shirt.
He broke the kiss, his golden eyes blazing with predatory intent.
"Ten years is too long for a woman like you," he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her. His hands went to the front of her elegant dress. With a sharp, rending sound, he tore it open, buttons pinging off the walls.
The fabric fell away, revealing her magnificent body, full, heavy breasts capped with dark, pebbled nipples, a narrow waist that flared into generous, curving hips.
"Oh, God," she gasped, not in protest, but in awe at his raw dominance.
Ragnar didn't hesitate. He buried his face between her breasts, his mouth latching onto one taut peak while his hand kneaded the other.
His teeth grazed her sensitive flesh, making her cry out and arch her back, pressing herself harder against him. He switched his attention, his mouth lavishing the same rough worship on her other breast, his free hand sliding down the flat plane of her stomach, over the swell of her hip, and down to the damp heat already soaking through her lace underwear.
"Already so wet for me," he murmured against her skin, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric. He found her swollen clit and circled it with a firm, knowing pressure. Isabella bucked against his hand, a string of incoherent pleas falling from her lips. "Please… please…"
He hooked his fingers into her panties and tore them away with the same brutal efficiency. Then, he dropped to his knees before her. He pushed her legs apart, his gaze locked with hers as he lowered his head.
His tongue, cool and wet like the ocean he commanded, delved into her core without warning.
Isabella screamed. It was a raw, shattered sound of pure ecstasy. Her hands flew to his blue hair, fisting in the strands as his mouth devoured her. He feasted on her, his tongue flicking and probing with inhuman speed and precision, lapping up the evidence of her decade of deprivation.
He pushed her to the very edge, feeling her thighs tremble violently around his head, her moans becoming shrill, desperate cries.
Just as she was about to shatter, he pulled away.
"No!" she begged, her body trembling with denied release. "Don't stop!"
He rose to his full height, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. He stripped off his own clothes, revealing a powerfully built body, every muscle defined and thrumming with latent power.
His erection stood thick and proud, and Isabella's eyes widened, a mix of fear and overwhelming desire flashing in their depths.
He picked her up as if she weighed nothing and carried her to the massive, canopied bed. He tossed her onto the silken sheets, her body bouncing lightly.
Before she could even orient herself, he was on her, spreading her legs wide. He positioned himself at her entrance, the broad head of his cock pressing against her dripping folds.
"Look at me," he commanded.
Her lust-hazed eyes met his.
"This is what you've been missing," he said, and with a single, powerful thrust, he sheathed himself completely inside her.
Isabella's back arched off the bed, a guttural, primal scream tearing from her throat. She was so tight, so impossibly hot and wet around him. He gave her no time to adjust. He set a punishing, relentless rhythm from the start, each deep, driving stroke hitting her very core.
The bed slammed against the wall with every piston-like movement, the sound echoing her own choked cries and moans.
"Yes! Oh, fuck! Yes! Harder!" she chanted, her legs locking around his waist, her heels digging into the small of his back.
He obliged, his hips moving like a machine, pounding into her with a force that was both brutal and exquisite. He leaned down, capturing a nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting as he drove into her.
He shifted her position, rolling her onto her stomach and pulling her hips up, entering her from behind. This new angle made her scream anew, his length reaching even deeper.
He gripped her hips, his fingers leaving bruises on her pale skin as he plundered her, the slick, wet sounds of their coupling filling the room.
He was everywhere at once, his hands groping and squeezing her ass, his mouth on her neck, his cock filling her to the brim.
He whispered filthy promises in her ear, telling her how perfectly she took him, how he was going to ruin her for any other man, how this was just the beginning. He made her feel owned, used, and worshipped all at once.
Her third orgasm ripped through her, this one so violent it left her sobbing, her body convulsing around him in wave after wave of mind-shattering pleasure.
Feeling her climax, Ragnar finally let his own control snap. With a final, deep, grinding thrust, he buried himself to the hilt and poured his release into her with a low, satisfied groan, his own body shuddering with the force of it.
He collapsed atop her for a moment, both of them slick with sweat and breathing in ragged gasps. Then, he rolled off, pulling her against his side. Isabella lay boneless, utterly spent, a blissful, dazed smile on her face. She traced the contours of his chest with a trembling finger.
"Heaven," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "I feel like I'm in heaven."
Ragnar chuckled and leaned over, kissing her deeply, letting her taste the lingering salt of her own pleasure on his lips.
"That was just the first course, Isabella," he promised, his voice a low, possessive rumble. His hand, which had been idly tracing circles on her stomach, drifted lower, his fingers combing through the damp curls between her thighs, making her twitch and gasp.
His golden eyes glowed with renewed, primal hunger in the dim light. "The night is still young."
Before she could form a coherent thought, he moved with fluid, predatory grace. He flipped her onto her stomach with an effortless strength that stole her breath. He pulled her hips up, arching her back, presenting her to him like an offering.
"Such a perfect view," he growled, his hands gripping the soft flesh of her hips, his thumbs digging in possessively.
Isabella moaned into the silken sheets, her body already aching and sensitive, yet screaming for more. She felt the broad, wet head of his cock nudge against her entrance from behind. He didn't plunge in immediately. He teased, rubbing himself along her slick folds, making her whimper and push her hips back in a silent, desperate plea.
"Please… Ragnar…"
"Since you asked so nicely," he purred, and then he drove into her, a single, deep, filling thrust that made her cry out, her fingers clawing at the bedsheets. He set a brutal, piston-like rhythm, each slam of his hips pushing a choked sob of pleasure from her lungs.
The sound of their bodies meeting, skin on skin, was loud and obscene in the quiet room. He leaned over her, his chest pressed against her back, his mouth near her ear.
"You're mine tonight, Isabella. Every scream, every moan, belongs to me." To emphasize his point, he wrapped one hand in her hair, not pulling hard, but with enough firmness to tilt her head back, exposing her throat.
It was a subtle act of dominance that sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through her.
"Yes! Yours!" she gasped, the submission unlocking a new depth of ecstasy.
He released her hair, his hands moving to her wrists. He pinned them to the small of her back, holding them there with one of his large hands, rendering her completely helpless beneath him.
Immobilized, all she could do was feel, the relentless, deep penetration, the scrape of his teeth on her shoulder, the overwhelming sense of being utterly possessed.
"Can you take it?" he grunted, his rhythm becoming even faster, harder, the bed protesting violently. "Can you take all of me?"
All she could manage was a broken, sobbing, "Yes! More!"
He shifted his angle slightly, and the new pressure on a secret, inner spot made her vision whiten. Her third orgasm of the night tore through her with the force of a tidal wave, a raw, screaming climax that left her trembling and boneless.
Yet, he didn't stop. He rode her through the shattering waves, his own control fraying.
With a final, guttural roar, he buried himself to the hilt, his own release pumping into her in hot, pulsing jets. He collapsed over her, his weight a comforting anchor, both of them slick with sweat and breathing in ragged, shattered gasps.
After a long moment, he rolled off, pulling her limp, pliant body against his side. Isabella could only murmur, her voice a wrecked whisper, "Heaven... I've died and gone to heaven."
Soon, Isabella lay against him, utterly spent, her body humming with a satisfaction so deep it felt like a fundamental change in her chemistry.
The silence was thick and warm, broken only by their slowing breaths. Ragnar's hand idly stroked her arm, his touch now possessive rather than demanding.
After a few minutes, he shifted, the movement causing her to look up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. His golden gaze was still heated, a banked fire ready to be stoked again.
He didn't say a word. He simply looked down at her, then let his eyes drift meaningfully down his own body.
The message was clear and unmistakable.
A fresh, dizzying thrill shot through Isabella's exhaustion. This wasn't a request; it was an expectation, a final act of worship. And after the paradise he had just shown her, she was more than willing to kneel at his altar.
She slid down the bed, the silken sheets whispering against her skin, until she was nestled between his powerful legs.
The musky, intimate scent of their lovemaking filled her senses, intoxicating her further. He was already half-hard again, a testament to his supernatural vitality.
She didn't hesitate. She took him into her mouth, not with tentative exploration, but with a hungry, eager devotion. It was rough, messy, and utterly lacking in finesse, all raw need and submission.
She used her tongue, her lips, the back of her throat, taking as much of him as she could, gagging slightly but pushing through, driven by a desperate urge to please him, to taste every last drop of his power.
Ragnar let out a low, appreciative groan, his head falling back against the pillows. One of his hands tangled in her hair, not guiding her, just holding her there, a firm anchor as she worked. His hips gave slight, involuntary thrusts, fucking her mouth in a slow, deep rhythm.
"Yeah… just like that," he growled, his voice thick with pleasure. "Take it all."
She did, her eyes watering, her world narrowing to this single, primal act. She could feel him swelling, hardening completely in her mouth, the tension coiling in his body.
With a final, guttural sound, he came, his release hot and bitter flooding her throat. She swallowed convulsively, not letting a drop escape, until he was spent and softening in her mouth.
She pulled back, panting, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, a dazed, triumphant look on her flushed face.
Ragnar looked down at her, his expression one of dark, sated approval. He cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking her jawline.
"Good girl," he murmured, the two words feeling like the highest praise.
He pulled her back up into his arms, and she curled against him, completely and utterly conquered. Within moments, the sheer physical and emotional overload pulled her into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Ragnar lay awake for a while longer, listening to her even breathing, a plan already forming in his mind. The husband's base, and its real treasures, were next. But for now, this was a victory all its own.