Chapter 581: Chapter 581
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 tormented 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. Some 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 time and savoring every moment. Each hook and tie came 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 came 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 met 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 somehow became more beautiful.
"I can’t get enough of you," he murmured, his voice rough with affection and desire. "You’ve thoroughly bewitched me."
He lifted his gaze to hers. "Tell me what you want. Anything, and I’ll do it."
Circe licked her lips. "I want you to make love to me."
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 moments before. Circe melted 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 time, 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 time, 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 me, dripping, desperate. I’ve been thinking about this all day, about how wet you get when I take my time 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 something nudge against her entrance. It wasn’t his cock, she was sure of that. Instead it was something 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 came 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 welcomed him.
They moved together, slow and deep, savoring the moment, 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 came deep inside her.
They remained joined for a long moment 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 sometimes 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 same tenderness. He finally pulled away and pressed his lips to the tip of her nose.
He met her gaze once more and the words he held in his heart left him before he could think better of them.
"Marry me."
Circe blinked in surprise. "But we are already married."
"Marry me again. Make me the happiest man in the world." His voice came out lower and rougher than he intended. "Our first wedding was a spectacle for Nheera and the nobles. Let’s do it right this time. 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 someone else’s board. He couldn’t have known then what it would become.
What she would become to him.
Circe searched his face carefully. Whatever she found there made something 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 something 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 me will always belong to you. Even after I leave this world, whatever remains of me 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 me lives inside you."
Beyond those walls, years would pass, kingdoms would rise and fall, and their children would grow. But in that moment, none of it mattered.
There was only him.
There was only her.
And the promise that, no matter what became of them, they would always find their way back to each other.
————
The end.
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