A dual pov narrative from both main characters-Loki and Annalise. If you enjoy slow burn, immersive stories, that will make you have all the feels, followed by the long awaited spice, then stop your search. Here is the story for you!
As the newly cr...
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My attention remains fixated on Annalise as we venture deeper into the wondrous landscapes of Jotunheim. Every animated expression that graces her face captivates me—the way her neck strains with curiosity as she peers out the window, the delightful double takes when she catches sight of towering glaciers, and the sheer awe that escapes her in little squeals when spotting distant wolves.
While I give her the space she deserves to immerse herself in this new world, I find myself ensnared in a haze of desire. Images of her, vivid and intoxicating, replay in my mind—the enticing glimpse of her thighs as she lifted her dress earlier, igniting a deep and primal arousal within me.
I'm still stunned by my own boldness that allowed desire to guide my actions. It was a risk, impulsive and unmeasured, but one I'm grateful I took. For the memory of my fingers venturing beneath her dress, grazing her most intimate area, fills me with both exhilaration and gratitude.
I had expected her to stop me, to express her disgust or deliver a harsh rebuke. Yet she didn't. Instead, there was a beautiful absence of rejection, only a delicate blush that tinted her cheeks when my hand found her lace panties—a shy intake of breath that I will forever cherish.
Did she sense how the sight of her bare legs and the hint of pink stirred my desire, causing my cock to harden, the tip throbbing against the restraint of my leathers?
If she hadn't composed herself, pulling her dress back into place, I might have transformed the carriage into a makeshift bed. Choosing to lay her down gently, removing those pink panties with my teeth before exploring her with my tongue.
I wish she hadn't stopped me. I wish she had allowed me to continue. I wish, right at this moment, as I absently suck on my fingertips—the very ones that had touched her—I could taste even the faintest trace of what I had only glimpsed.
Another squeal of excitement escapes Annalise, and I halt my reverie of her to continue observing her reactions.
Her innocence and genuine delight are utterly captivating, impossible to resist no matter how hard I try. And believe me, I do try. I consciously move my gaze away, testing my willpower, attempting not to be completely consumed by her. Yet, like a compass drawn to its true north, my eyes inevitably drift back to her, as if she holds all the power over me simply by existing.
She makes me forget about the world, my responsibilities, my struggles, and fills me with an overwhelming sense of love. It's as if she has cultivated a garden within my lungs, brimming with beauty, yet suffocating me in its intensity. I've never felt so vulnerable before, but that's precisely what she does to me. That's the nature of love: all-consuming, smothering in its grasp. If my days, my minutes, my seconds aren't spent thinking of her, then it isn't the burning, passionate love I crave.
"Can you see them, Annalise?" I move closer to her, joining her in gazing out the window.
"Is that... lirra trees? It can't be," she exclaims, her voice filled with excitement. "That's a cluster, a small woodland. There's no way..."
