Chapter 3 | Ravinica

Chapter 3

Ravinica

SVEN PUSHED HIS FACE harder against my pussy, feasting on my heat and expertly weaving his tongue over my tight clit.

I was forced back a step, my big ass flattening against the cold stone of the wall next to my cot.

His ministrations were eager, needy, and brought a thrum of pressure clawing up my spine and rattling through my body, building at the base of my belly.

It took everything to resist sitting on his face and suffocating him in my wet heat. But I knew if I did that, I’d have no one to bend me into a pretzel and have his way with me. No one to show me my place and claim me.

I needed more. While Sven’s tongue was delectable, it wasn’t enough. Another few seconds and I’d crush his skull with my damned thighs, I was so horny. He’d thank me for it too, because he was as much of a freak as I was.

Say one thing for these cramped underground quarters: They allowed me to get increasingly closer with my mates.

As if reading my mind, Sven stood from his knees, bringing that devilish tongue up my body, along my belly, flicking my nipples teasingly before he was eye-level with me.

“Delicious,” he murmured, licking his lips.

I groped for his belt, pulling and yanking the buckle while our eyes locked and we embraced with another kiss. I could taste myself on his tongue. It set off a flurry of white-hot sensations inside me.

When I got this way, there was no stopping me. I wouldn’t be tamed, which was the perfect coupling for an animal like Sven Torfen. “My turn,” I breathed in a daredevil voice.

Before he could answer, I dropped to my knees and hoisted his hard cock out of his jeans, pulling his pants down to free the beast. His cock swung out, smacking against my chin with my face too close. Precum spilled across my lips and I dove in, wrapping my lips around his velvety length and teasing his ridge with my tongue.

He was thick, warm, and filled my mouth. His balls were certainly no longer in his stomach—they clapped lightly against me when he thrust a single time to the back of my throat and made me gag.

“Fuck, menace, you’re going to be the death of me.” His hand wrapped in my silver hair and he held me still so he could fuck my face.

Choked tears came to my eyes. A knowing smile to my lips. He slammed his dick into me and held me by the hair. He was unraveling before me and I was the cause of it. It was empowering, giving me control—even as he wrested it from me and face-fucked the thoughts out of my head.

Sven was not a gentle lover. He never claimed to be, and I loved him for it. I knew what I would get with him: passionate, violent trysts that would have me remembering the lustful moments days later, have me crawling back for more.

That was why I waited at the ladder for him to return from his field duties: so I could get one last taste of the dominant shifter before classes started tomorrow. My other mates were off preparing for the start of the term. I knew Sven would want to relieve some of his frustrations after being out in the cold for so long.

I was the perfect conduit for his release, and he was the chord that made my body sing.

Roughly, he lifted my face off his cock by my hair, commanding my every movement. I gave in to the bliss, the pain bruising the back of my throat once he was sadly no longer there.

Sven growled, “Enough,” as he brought me to my feet. He smeared spilled blood across my cheeks, ravenously kissing me while cupping both sides of my face—tasting himself on my lips just like I had tasted myself on his.

He spun me around without a word, saliva stretching from our eager lips. I gasped when he slapped my bare ass, the clap echoing off the walls of my small room. It would leave a red handprint, and I wanted more. He needed to tattoo himself onto me so I’d never forget the way he branded me.

Though I suppose he’d already done that after attacking me with his kinsfolk during my initiate year.

Oh, how times had changed. Back then, he was an imposing bastard who wanted to make my life a living hell. He wanted to scare me from Vikingrune Academy and test my resolve.

Now? He wanted to bring me to the heights of pleasure, test me in a different way, and have his way with me. He wanted me to cry his name out, ripped from my lungs with the harsh way he fucked me.

That’s exactly what I did when I felt his hard cock slam into my pussy from behind, filling my depths. A swift-moving orgasm rocked me, shocking me. “Sven, fuck!”

His fingers embedded in my round ass cheeks. He railed into me again. My chest heaved, tits pressing against the cold stone as he held me in place and plunged his slick cock into my stuffed hole. I was forced to splay my hands out in front of me so his pummeling didn’t send my head into the wall.

My body trembled, my thighs shook, my pussy quivered. My heartbeat matched his rhythmic movements. The sounds of him fucking me reverberated off my skull—his heavy balls smacking into me as he bottomed out inside. His cock railing my wet cunt. His animalistic growls trickling in my ears.

I couldn’t hold back my moans. I knew they would carry out into the hallway and anyone passing could hear us. My next-door neighbors in the nearby nooks had already been accosted by ungodly sounds coming from my dwelling for nearly a month now, and I wasn’t sorry.

Sven grabbed my arms and pulled back, forcing my wobbling ass to press firmly against his belly and thighs. He hugged me, squeezing tight, hands roving down to my belly to hold me in place so he could destroy me and try to feel the bulge of his cock plowing into me.

My eyes rolled. Spit dripped from my mouth. My roaming thoughts vanished. He was quite literally fucking me mindless, and all I could do was moan and mewl.

Bending my arms in a painful angle behind me, a hand closed around my wrists. With his other hand, he jerked back on my hair.

I choked and gasped as my head wrenched back. My tits bounced uncontrollably in front of me. I was so locked into place, so outside of myself, I nearly felt otherworldly.

Then he slammed me into my body, growling in my ear, “I’m going to make sure you never forget this fucking cock, little menace. You hear me?”

I nodded stupidly, blinking, blinded by happy tears and errant blood. Sven Torfen didn’t care that I looked like Carrie in act three. He wanted me for me , not for my appearance, my need for revenge against my brother, or my qualms. Sven had wanted my body and I was helpless to stop him from taking what he wanted.

“I’ll never forget it! I s-swear!” I stuttered, clenching my eyes shut as his dick pumped across my deepest parts and untethered me from my soul.

The sounds of my ass clapped against his body, against his pussy-breaking cock that took no mercy. My weighty tits jumped and slapped against the wall, joining the chorus that was completed by the babbling wet sounds of him pumping into me.

“Ahh!” I cried out, unable to form any coherent words.

His fingers dug into my scalp and wrists, bruising the flesh, and his cock swelled inside me. My eyes burst open, red-rimmed and blurry from the jiggling of my curves and the dripping cornucopia of sweat, tears, blood, and sex.

My legs were giving out. I was ready to face-plant into the wall, only held up by the dastardly shifter behind me, fucking me like I was a bitch in heat.

There was a time to be a badass boss bitch. A leader of Vikings and warriors. A gamechanger.

There was also a time to let it all go, to forget the struggles and embrace my womanhood and femininity and appreciate the strength and possessive nature of the men I had on my side. To let them claim, dominate, and own me.

Now was certainly the latter.

Sven roared and withdrew his swollen cock from my cunt, spraying his cum across my ass and back. I seized from a raucous climax that sent me trembling to my hands and knees, unable to control myself. The feeling of letting go was exquisite—unraveling like a dress with its hem drawn out thread by wicked thread, until I was no more.

Neither living nor dead. Just . . . feeling. Ceasing to exist or think on this temporal realm. It was the kind of intensity I lived for. I likened it to a tender moment in Valhalla, feasting with the gods and locked in eternal war, with winged steeds carrying me through the clouds and my drinking horn always full. Laughter and merriment and constant violence and sex.

Then it was gone, fleeting. Slowly fading until I was left in my sweaty, crawling husk of a body in Midgard, gasping for breath and still shaking with aftershocks.

I wasn’t sure how long it lasted. At times it felt like hours, others it felt like seconds. Such was the nature of a good shag—you lost track of everything , caught only in the moment.

Minutes later, Sven and I sagged on my bed, arms and legs akimbo. Though it was the middle of the day, I was ready for a damned nap. Some food. A shower. The order didn’t really matter.

I was content. My filthy body was locked in Sven’s, my head tucked in the crook of his shoulder, breathing in his scent of sex and steel and domination.

Having Sven all to myself was exquisite. Typically, Grim Kollbjorn joined us—the bear shifter Sven used to call an enemy and rival. Surprisingly, the two adversarial shifters in my pack had become quite buddy-buddy when it came to me. They often worked me over together, to bring me to the heights of ecstasy.

This was just as good. I couldn’t say it was intimate , because Sven had just beaten my pussy up like it owed him money. My whole body was sore—the best kind of soreness.

“What’s your plan?” I asked, nudging up closer to him. It was all I could do, since my bed was so damn small, pushed against a corner of the tiny dwelling.

“Need to report to Hersir Osfen.”

Axel Osfen was the battlemaster of the academy. A man who looked as much a fierce dwarf as a man, with a bald pate and stern eyes. He’d always been fair with me, even helpful.

I frowned, kissing his chest. “You’d better get to it. I need to wash before I stain my bedsheets with this stupid fucking blood.”

Sven grunted, our heads sideways, staring at each other. “He’ll need to be taken care of at some point, menace.”

I didn’t need to ask who he was talking about. Dismayed, I nodded and closed my eyes. “I know.”

“He’ll only get more brazen.”

I sat up to the edge of the bed, averting eye contact and showing him my back as frustration boiled inside me. This was the part of Sven that could be infuriating at times. “I said I know, Sven. What do you want me to do, kill him? He’s still my half-brother.”

Sven joined me at the edge of the bed, staring sidelong at me. He surprised me by reaching over and cupping my chin as I moved to gather my discarded shirt off the ground.

His touch nearly made me purr. I could have slept all day with him, if we had the time. But we were busy cadets and had to go our separate ways for now.

“I won’t tolerate you getting hurt,” he said. His voice was gruff, his words said in the most Sven way possible.

It made me quirk a smile as I turned away from his touch, my cheeks reddening. He didn’t say he wouldn’t let me get hurt, or couldn’t allow it to happen, or remark on how sad he’d be if Damon actually hurt me.

No. He said he would not tolerate it. As if he was the only thing to stand between me and certain death.

It was romantic, in a way, because Sven didn’t have an ounce of diplomacy inside him. But he was trying, and I had to give him his flowers.

I leaned over and kissed him once, then stood with a sigh.

I finally found my tunic and threw it on, making a face at the stain of blood ruining the fabric. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll figure out what to do about Damon. He’s like a harmless pup, trying to make himself known. I can deal with these pranks. I have much more to worry about.”

I had four other men, two best friends, a prophecy, and a rebellion to think about. Damon was not high on my list of concerns at the moment.

When I made it to the door, Sven’s voice stopped me.

“Menace.”

I glanced over my shoulder.

“Don’t forget that pups grow into hounds. And hounds can be dangerous if they’re not disciplined.”