Mere moments later, his head was between her thighs and her hands were fisted in his hair. She was making the best sort of noises, short little gasps and occasionally moaning.
He teased her with his tongue, stroking and flicking and generally enjoying each of her reactions. With as long as he'd been chasing her, it was incredibly satisfying to have her here, her clothes in disarray, sprawled on her bed and him savoring her.
His tongue circled her clit, and she made a new noise. He did it again, then flicked it, and it wasn't long before her thighs were clenched tight around his head, and her breath was coming faster.
"Gods," she sighed, her head falling back. His hand snaked up along her body, caught one breast and tweaked the nipple as he slid two fingers from his other hand into her. Seemingly that was all it took as she clenched down hard and came on his fingers. He smiled and stroked her once or twice more with his tongue before sitting back on his heels.
"Was that satisfactory?" He couldn't stop himself from smirking as he asked. He knew she had enjoyed it. He wore the evidence on his face and fingers. She lifted her head enough to fix him with a stare. He caught her eyes and took that moment to slowly lick his fingers clean. She made a small noise, and then let her head drop once more.
He felt the stirrings of another erection.
Gods but she was perfect. Her dark hair was wilder than it had been, her skin was flushed. Her dark eyes sparkled at him through her thick lashes, and her full lips were parted slightly as she breathed. With each breath her breasts moved, and if it weren't for the need that overtook him more with each passing moment, he might have been able to stare each day.
But the lass was stroking herself, her hands trailing across her skin to her own breasts, which she cupped in her hands and caressed. He continued staring as one hand left her breast and kept sliding down along her belly. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip as she began to stroke her own nether regions.
His mouth went dry, and he stiffened further as he watched her writhe for herself. He heard her small chuckle, and when he looked to see why, she was watching his face.
"Must I convince myself, Brynjolf?" She was smiling, but he sensed a seriousness to her question.
So it wasn't entirely a ploy. The lass joining his guild really did depend upon his ability to satisfy her. Or it was, and she was just teasing him, but somehow he wasn't so sure about that as he might have been.
He finished disrobing, dropping his clothing and gear on the floor unceremoniously. Then he slid the rest of her clothing off her, until they were both naked. He couldn't help staring at her, loving the soft curves of her body, the smoothness of her skin. He wanted to discover and catalogue her marks and scars. Wanted to know her body as he had never known another.
There was something about this lass.
Perhaps it was the games she was playing, or perhaps it was just her but he wanted her as he had wanted no other.
He sat on the bed, pulled her forward until she was straddling him, poised above him. He kissed her breast, caught her hips in his grip, and pressed her down onto his hardened cock. She made a small noise, something between a sigh and a moan, and then she was lifting herself, and lowering herself once more. The movements were shallow, teasing. He gripped her tighter and pressed. She didn't resist.
Then he was fully in her.
And they were moving together and she was gasping and he might have been, too. And he was close to the edge, too close. And her hand was snaking down between them and she was stroking her own clit as she rode him. And he was thinking of anything he could to just last a little longer, and she was arching her back and saying words that he couldn't comprehend at the moment and then he was spilling his seed inside her.
She kept moving, just a few moments longer until she was shuddering and clenching around him.
He fell back on the bed and brought her with him. Worn, and sticky from sweat and other bodily fluids, he simply rearranged them so they were both laying on the bed beside each other. He groped around for blankets, but Emeline was faster.
Content and tired, Brynjolf drifted off.