Dream of Me/Believe in Me

against the scented pillows. His mouth on hers, he groaned, “… a woman.
My
woman.” The silken sheath of her body flexed around him as though acknowledging his claim even while making its own.
    “So beautiful,” she said as the first curling edges of hot, sweet pleasure took her. Her gaze locked on his. “So beautiful,” she repeated, making it clear she meant him. He started to laugh at the notion but the pleasure was upon him as well, and he could only gasp. He was at the edge before he knew he was close to it, fighting to hold back, wanting to give her everything and more.
    He let go of one of her hands and slid his own between their joined bodies, stroking her until she cried out, her head twisting on the pillow. “Don't stop, oh, please, don't stop …”
    “I won't.” He continued the caress as he drove again within her. Scant heartbeats passed before she convulsed around him, her exquisite body arching up from the bed, his name a cry on her lips.
    “Wolf!”
    He growled in response, rising above her, gripping her hips between his hands, driving harder and deeper yet until he, too, was taken, convulsed by pleasure so intense he lost all awareness of the world, of himself, of everything save the woman who clasped him to her, gently stroking his sweat-dampened back.
    Such was the first time. Afterward, Wolf resolved to do better. Well, not precisely better. Just longer. He wanted to linger over her, savoring every inch of her. A man was a fool to waste such beauty and passion in hasty coupling.
    Call him a fool, then, for he could not manage such restraint the second time, although by Odin he did try. Nor did he think he mistook the little laugh he heard from her afterward, as though she was mightily pleased by his lack of restraint.
    He lifted his head then, from where it rested slumped against her lovely breasts, and eyed her narrowly.
    “Amused,
wife?”
    Her delicious mouth curved in an enticing smile. “Well satisfied,
husband.”
    “You think so?” He felt himself growing hard again. She felt it, too, and her eyes widened most gratifyingly
    “Wolf…?”
    “Hmmm?” He moved, as though to withdraw from her, but returned quickly enough when she clasped his buttocks.
    He smiled down at her, gray eyes gleaming, and moved again. “Oh, is
this
what you want?”
    It was and she made that clear enough to send them both whirling into a red mist of release before he foundhimself once again slumped against her, scant-breathed and lack-sensed. This time she managed not to laugh but he
knew
, though he had not the strength to raise his head, knew beyond doubt that she was smiling.
    He woke later to feel her silken thigh thrown over his and the swell of her breast against his arm. Incredibly, that was enough. His cock stirred in cheerful anticipation. Wolf groaned and stared down the length of himself. His cock moved again, as if waving at him. He bit back a wry curse and glanced at his wife. She was asleep. He couldn't wake her. She was only a woman. She needed to rest, to recover from his manly attentions.
    Her thigh moved, warm, smooth, slightly moist with the mingled essence of him and her. Tempting, testing, enticing. She raised her head, tossed back her hair, and smiled at him.
    Would death in the sweet combat of the marital bed qualify him for Valhalla? he wondered. He imagined himself trying to make that claim before Odin and all the gods, thinking of how they would laugh. Ah, but he would have an ally. Frigg would welcome him. No doubt, she'd seat him right beside her.
    “We used to sacrifice to Frigg,” he whispered still later against his wife's sweet skin. “Mayhap you wish to revive the custom.”
    She laughed but, he noted, didn't deny it, and curled against him, her breath soft against his chest. He thought she slept and thought to do the same, until she stirred beside him. Slowly, she lifted herself, the curtain of her hair falling over them both. He saw … uncertainty in her eyes, hesitation, and something more. Fear? No, surely not that.
    “I have been meaning to ask you,” she said slowly, for clearly the asking was not easy. “You have not said …” In the dim light of the lodge, he saw her glance away and knew in an instant what she meant to ask. What must beuppermost in her mind, what he should have told her, what it was cowardice to deny and delay.
    “No,” he said suddenly. He cupped the back of her head, pulling her down to him. He would not let her go. Holding her