The bells still rang in the Sept to announce the new marriage that had just been blessed inside its walls. Those weren't his Gods, not really, but they had been Lynesse's, and so they'd said their vows under the eyes of the Seven. She now wore his Cloak . . . well . . . she had been wearing his Cloak. Jorah took another sip of his wine, the rich flavor going straight to his head. Lynesse stood before him, biting her lip and giving him such a coy gaze. It heated his blood hotter than the blazing sun outside. The floor swayed underneath them. They were aboard a pleasure barge . . . their honeymoon vessel to take them to Bear Island—Lynesse's new home.

"Have you come to devour me, Bear?" she cooed, her laces half-way done on her dress.

Jorah felt a thrill of excitement in his belly. He set his glass of wine down next to the private feast they had—mostly—indulged in and stepped towards his lady wife. Without answering, he simply grabbed her around the waist and picked her right up. She squealed in delight, her head throwing back in peals of laughter as he spun her around before setting her on the bed. Her smile warmed him, but when she took that lower lip and bit it seductively, the warmth turned to a burning fire in his blood. In truth, it was a wonder they had managed to wait after the wedding. Lynesse had been abundant in her affections and generous in how deep those affections had ran.

Now though . . . no more waiting. He'd have her. His lips pressed to hers eagerly, and he purred low in his chest as she accepted them just as eagerly. Her hands gripped at the front of his shirt, pulling him atop her. Settling comfortably between her legs, he felt her give a sigh and took that opportunity to slip his tongue past her lips and into the cavern of her mouth. Lynesse shivered underneath him, a moan rising up her throat. It vibrated against his lips, causing his own pleasant shiver to occur. The two joined tongues, kissing most intimately as their hands feverishly touched all that they now owned. For himself, he was engrossed in her breasts and her hips. Each pass of his palm over the cloth that separated him from her breast had Lynesse arching up underneath him, rubbing something sensual against him.

Lynesse was eagerly running her hands down his back, her nails pressing in just enough to cause goosebumps on his skin. This simple shared intimacy spanned for quite some time. Kissing was oft so looked over between couples. They were too eager to just join and race for their release. Kissing was a pleasure all in itself. Jorah lifted his head after their extended snog and was delighted to find her cheeks a rosy pink, her lips swollen, and such a bright light of lust in her eyes, he thought he might melt under the heat of her gaze alone. His mind felt hazy and sluggish with the weight of his arousal.

His rough fingers went for the laces of her dress that still remained done up. With a hurried tug, he had them loosen enough, so he could rip it straight from her body. She gasped at that, a look of shock and amusement on her face. "I liked that dress!" she exclaimed, swatting his chest. "You beast!"

"I'll buy you ten others," he promised her, tugging the last strips of the dress away. Smallclothes were removed, and she lay bare before him. Lynesse bit her lip, having the grace to look a little shy. Jorah had never seen such a magnificent sight. She was curved perfectly. Every mound came to a perfect valley, the shadows cast across her skin only seemed to somehow make her look more sultry. "My love," he breathed, awe in his voice, "I am not worthy to worship at this alter."

Lynesse hummed at that, her hand stroking through his hair. "Anyone can gaze at an alter," she told him. "Prove yourself worthy by doing more than just staring."

Little encouragement was needed from there. Jorah began at her throat. Soft kisses trailed down her windpipe, across her collarbone. She seemed to relish each doting kiss, her eyes closed with a pleasant smile on her lips. His tour of her body brought him to one of those beautiful mounds, where the cutest pink nipple lay at the very tip. Eagerly, he licked over this little nub, and she gasped, giving a hard shudder. Her hand came to wrap around his shoulders, her legs instinctively widening around him. Indeed, it seemed the more Jorah played with her nipple—tracing, sucking, licking just over the very tip—the more she reacted. Before long, she was a moaning mess under him, arching under him and pushing her hips up against his waist, trying to grind against something.

"I have found your weakness, my lady," he purred low, his eyes amused. Lynesse gave an impatient huff in response. A low chuckle left his lips, and he kissed down her firm tummy, feeling her shudder and gasp. Her legs were spreading wide, her thighs trembling with the weight of her arousal. Jorah pressed his mouth into her inner thigh, tracing his tongue over the sheen of liquid that had leaked there. Lynesse cooed, her hands hovering over his head uncertainly.

"Jorah?" she breathed weakly, a tone of uncertainty in her voice.

He did not answer. His mouth was too busy pressing into her most intimate lips. Darling blond hair had been carefully shaped to attract him to her further, but it was obvious Lynesse had not expected close inspection or attention to this part of her. She tensed under his kisses, her hands finally gripping his hair. Jorah toyed with her, giving her just a little further teasing, before he finally pressed his tongue past those lips and inside of her cunt. Lynesse squealed, her legs gripping his head, even as she pushed away from him, her body not knowing how to react.

Jorah held her fast, clasping his mouth to her and pressing his tongue deep. Curling his tongue inside of her, he flicked and thrust and swirled. Lynesse was wiggling and squirming like a mad woman underneath him. Her fingers were tangled in his hair, pulling now and then. The sounds ripped from her throat were almost inhuman in their tone and pitch. She soaked his tongue after a few licks, obviously enjoying his mindful attentions to her. "Oh, Jorah! Oh, Jorah!" she kept crying, almost weeping. Jorah was elated with her response to him. A satisfaction welled deep in his chest. There was no confidence quite like the one a man received when he knew he pleased his lady.

His tongue curled once more inside of her, and he touched the area just under the soft bundle that covered her clit. Lynesse released a sharp breath, her hips bucking down against him. Her hands pressed him hard to her, not allowing him to remove himself now. A throaty hum left his lips, giving her a little vibration, and she cried out anew, her hips grinding down against him. Jorah followed her body's need and licked the spot faster, firmer, until her hips were shaking and thighs trembling on either side of him. Her orgasm came suddenly and expectedly, if her breathing was anything to go by.

Lynesse gave a hard shudder, and Jorah tasted an increase of her honey. Her thighs shook hard, and her body arched until she finally collapsed back, her hands releasing his hair. Jorah licked her clean, humming all the while in satisfaction, before pressing a tender kiss to her swollen clit, which was weeping for attention. Licking his lips, he wiped his chin as well and pushed up to look down upon his wife. Her body was a lovely rosy color, flushed with her orgasm. Her eyes were fluttering, and she looked genuinely shocked at what had just happened.

Moving over her, Jorah pressed tender kisses into her neck and against her jaw. She gasped lightly and started to revive herself, her arms circling around him. "My bear," she breathed at long last. "You must take me. Now. Forever."

Since his own arousal was rather becoming a bother, he quickly moved to satisfy her new desires. Jorah pulled at his tunic, throwing it to the ground. Lynesse ran her gaze brazenly over him. Her fingers curiously traced scars over his body. She seemed to delight in his warrior's body. Jorah was quick at work at the laces of his breeches as she trailed her finger over his form. The light tease alone was enough to make him near mad with desire. He had wanted her the moment he had laid eyes on her. With an impatient growl, he tugged his breeches down and managed to free himself, his cock hard and pulsing for her.

Her hands flew from him at the sight and came to her lips in a surprised gasp. "You are fit to injure me, Ser," she murmured apprehensively.

"Never, my love," Jorah swore, lowering his head to kiss her deeply. He laid against her, nestled between her legs and simply filled his senses with the taste of her tongue and lips once again. Their mouths moved in a slow-burning desperate dance. Tongues and teeth came to play. Nibbles and suckles. Only until their lips were newly swollen did Jorah break away and resume his attentions to where they were most needed. She was slick once again, aided by his attentions earlier.

His fingers took this slick honey and spread it over his aching length. Already, the veins were stretched across the skin. His desire was near to pain. Once he believed himself slicked up enough, he leaned forward and pressed his tip against her. Lynesse stared at him levelly, her hands reaching for his. Jorah held them fast, and then slowly pushed inside of her. She gasped and jerked, but then held herself still. Her warm walls suckled him in with surprising ease. There was no great struggle here, yet she was wonderfully tight. Jorah released a low groan as he pressed his full length inside of her.

They held together for a moment, locked and desperately trying to remember how to breathe. Jorah lifted his gaze to Lynesse's, searching her face. Her brow was furrowed in discomfort, but after she breathed a moment or two, she began to relax, and then gave him a nod. Jorah braced himself on the bed, a hand on either side of her, and he pulled back, the delicious friction of her cunt sending a shiver down his spine. His hips pushed back in, and the explosion of pleasure that racked his body stole his very breath. With it, a moan was pushed from his chest, and he clutched the sheets of the bed, working them in a steady rhythm together.

Lynesse gave a few whimpers at first, her hands moving to clutch his shoulders. He felt her nails dig in for purchase. However, after a few more strokes, she began to relax fully, and the nails were retracted and replaced with splayed fingers that were pulling at him closer. Jorah shared in her excited breaths as he thrust a little faster, the hot, wet pleasure he found within her coursing through his very veins. His mind could only call for more! More! More! Lynesse's seemed to be echoing this statement, for she spread her legs wide, her hands sliding down to his back to his arse, pulling at him in further.

Pressed chest-to-chest, Jorah worried less for her discomfort, since they were well past then, and instead of giving them what they needed. His hips moved harder, slamming his cock into her soaked hole, which was clinging greedily to him with every thrust. Cries escaped her lips, her eyes rolling back in her head as he sped up. Jorah echoed them with his own low grunts. Their union was holy. Not because it was blessed by the Gods in the Sept, but because here, between her legs, he had found heaven. As she clutched at him tightly to her, he worked faster, faster, his hips adamant and slapping against hers.

"Jorah!" she cried into his ear, her teeth soon latching upon it. An intense jolt of arousal shot through him, and he sped up further, taking her faster, deeper. The bed creaked in its frame, and if the ship had been still, Jorah was sure they'd have set it rocking with their passionate movements. "Oh-oh-oh!" she cried harshly, her body squirming underneath him. Her hips started to buck wildly, and her arms tightened, the nails returning to his flesh. Jorah groaned loudly when he felt her starting to pulse around him, his cock driving into her relentlessly.

"OH! MY-MY LOVE!" she managed to call before the force of her climax rendered her speechless. Jorah cried out for her, his low timbre practically making the walls shake as she squeezed and pulsed and undulated around him. Her hips were moving frantically, and he moved to overtake her, fucking her right through her orgasm. Jorah was panting furiously, his body hot and slick, but the pleasure was so intense and building right in his core. She lay, boneless, underneath him, her eyes glossy and unseeing as he sought his own release.

Lifting himself back up, he grabbed her hips and kept her steady as he drilled into her, the sounds of their flesh a sharp staccato. His body began to tighten as each explosive release of pleasure built up within him, reaching an earth-shattering end. "AH! LYNESSE!" he managed to gasp, his muscles clenching, and then he was bursting from all the pleasure swirling in his body and head. Crying out, he groaned low afterwards as his seed spilled deep into her body, adding further liquid to the sheets. His orgasm left him temporarily deaf, his head ringing, and he stilled inside of her once it released him from its overwhelming grasp.

The two lovers stared at each other in shocked wonderment . . . that they had found another person who so thoroughly complimented and satisfied them. Lynesse reached up and touched his cheek, her fingers lightly stroking the scruffy hair. She pulled him to her and gave him a kiss that practically made his toes curl. Jorah moaned into her lips, his heart full of love . . . of contentment. This was the woman he had been made for. And he had found her. He had obtained her. She filled his heart completely.

Their bodies cooled, but their ardor certainly did not. As soon as their lips parted, Lynesse fixed him with a heated gaze. "Again," she demanded, her hips rising to already buck herself against him. Jorah released a sharp moan, his blood immediately enflamed. Who was this woman? Why had he lived so long without knowing of her existence? "Again!" she said again, her hips moving more insistently against him. Jorah grinned and returned them to a rhythm of passion and lust . . . and such did they remain locked through the rest of their journey to the Bay of Ice . . . where heat soon cooled.

ONE YEAR LATER . . .

The muck made his boots want to stick to the ground, but Jorah forced them out and came at his fencing partner again. "A little faster there, Dacey," he told her, easily dodging her mace.

"Any faster, and I'll take that pretty head of yours off," she replied with a grunt, blocking his attack and countering with a swifter jab at his shoulder. "Then what use would your wife have with you?"

Jorah chuckled, taking a step back to readjust his grip on his sword. "Let's say it's not my face Lynesse married me for," he teased back, his eyes glinting happily. The heir of Bear Island had never smiled so much in his life. He was a happily married man with a beautiful wife. The two were going to have beautiful children, and none of them would ever know unhappiness.

Dacey grunted, making sure to hit him with the blunt part of her mace for that. Jorah chuckled and darted to the side, getting back at her with a quick tap at her back. "You'll understand one day, cousin, how love can bring strength to your hand and speed to your feet."

"Oh Gods," Dacey bemoaned. "Stop him now. My cousin speaks of love. Love, my sweet cousin, is the bane of men. They destroy themselves for it . . . and each other for it . . . all in the name of love. It makes them blind in one eye." Dacey paused in their fight, considering him. "You are blind to her, too. She doesn't like it here." She hesitated, then asked, "why her, cousin? Of all the women in the world . . . why her?"

Jorah swung his sword in a circle, keeping his wrist agile during their pause at melee. "Her smile," he replied. "I was not alive until I saw her smile." This caused another groan from Dacey, and Jorah's mood could not be soured. Not even by her. Dacey had always been his favorite cousin, even now, older and harder as she had become under the careful tutelage of her mother. "Alright, my wise cousin, tell me. What is the bane of women? Not love?"

"Hm," Dacey gave a short laugh. "Not at all. Women use love as a tool. We're smarter than men, you see," she said haughtily. "We can turn it on and off as quick as a candle is lit or smothered. No, the bane of women . . . is the folly of foolish men. Men, for example, who are in love," she told him pointedly. "Guard your heart, cousin." She crouched back into a fighting stance, and Jorah did the same. "You're weak there."

The two clashed together again, and Jorah noticed her foot sunk too deep to the left and quickly darted right. She couldn't move fast enough and left her right side exposed. Jorah brought his sword to her belly and tapped it. "Guard your belly, cousin, or someone will bury an ax in it," he instructed, before lowering his weapon and gripping her shoulder tightly. "Thank-you for the lesson. We'll spar again later on in the week." Dacey shouldered her weapon and nodded at him, giving him a serious nod before walking off. Jorah watched after her. Dacey Mormont. She'd be as fierce as her mother one day. Jorah didn't doubt it.

She wasn't entirely wrong either. Though he and Lynesse had experienced perhaps one of the most intense and incredible honeymoon Jorah could have ever dreamed of, he still couldn't get her expression out of his head when she had first beheld his home. She had taken one look at the statue of the woman with a babe in one arm and an ax in another and the smile had frozen on her lips. It seemed the more he had shown her of the humble, wooden Hall, the more the light had died from her eyes.

He'd pressed her, of course, wanting to know what he could do to make it feel more like home to her. After all, she had come from Oldtown. A city thick with stone buildings and a marvelous castle, and the marvel of the Citadel. Bear Island was quite the opposite. Instead of stone, they had wood. Instead of buildings, they had trees and rocks and waterfalls. Instead of the bustle of traffic, they had the whisper of wind and roar of water. She had told him it was a lovely place, and she was sure she could be quite happy here.

Well, he was quite certain she'd be happy today. He had purchased a new necklace for her. It would match the silk dress he had procured last month. Jorah was sure she'd love it, and he'd see that heart-warming smile on her lips once again. Leaving the training yard, he entered through the back door to Mormont Hall and made his way to his study. His muddy boots were left for a servant to clean, and he removed the thick wool of his training garb for a softer tunic. On his desk rested the small box which held his love's new gift. He was half-way through tying his tunic when the door to his study opened and Aunt Maege walked in.

"Good, you're here," she said. "We need to talk about the King's taxes. The collector will be here afore long, and we need to ensure we have enough."

Jorah groaned. He hated this part of being Lord. Bear Island was a poor house. Not overly poor, but they weren't wealthy by any means. They produced and exported enough to get by comfortably, if not leisurely. "Have you done the counting?" he asked her, moving to his desk to find the papers which held their accounts.

"I have," Maege said, her expression hard and accusing. "We've enough, but not enough to pay our workers. There was a significant withdraw recently." Her eyes fell upon the box. "And I see it now in the shape of finely carved box."

Jorah bristled. "Fret not, Aunt. I calculated before I purchased. With the next haul, the workers will be able to receive their pay. It will simply come a week late. Surely they can go a week without pay. They catch their own food," he grunted.

"Go a week without an income, and then you can tell me how you found the experience," Maege told him shortly.

He turned and stared at her hard for a moment. Jorah slowly wavered under that crushing gaze, and he relented. "Alright. I see your point. It won't happen again," he murmured, his head lowering. Trust his Aunt to scold him well. She had always been particularly good at putting men in their places.

"See that it doesn't," she said firmly. "Your wife could use less baubles and more discipline, in my opinion," she huffed. "I offered to give her a bit of training, seems only right for the Lady of Bear Island to at least know how to hold a sword or ax, but she wasn't interested. Said it wasn't a lady's place." Maege gave a laugh at that. "She'll soon find out a lady's place is on her hands and knees for a pirate intent on the raping with that sort of sense in her brain."

"Mind your tongue," Jorah said tersely, "that's my wife. She isn't a lady of Bear Island. She's a proper lady."

"Aye," Maege agreed. "A proper lady of silk and cream. She isn't fit for this life, Jorah. She'll never be a bear. Mind you don't bring us all down in trying to turn her into one." Jorah glared. Maege was being unfair. Lynesse had done much to adapt to her new life. It was unfair of his Aunt to expect her to just accept the Mormont way of life after living as long as she had in a lifestyle almost entirely different. She needed time and gentle coaxing.

'Is that all?" Jorah asked, his tone clearly warning her that if she answered anything but the affirmative, he would not be held responsible for the words that came from him next.

"Aye."

"Good. Despite your opinion of her, you'd do well to remember that she is your Lady." He waited, letting that settle over his Aunt for a moment. "I'll come to you later to finalize the accounts," he said. Recognizing that she was dismissed, and wisely obeying it, Maege nodded her head and left his study. Once the door was closed, Jorah irritably punched the top of his desk—the oak wood thudding. A lingering feeling of guilt welled in his stomach as he looked at the box. Reaching for it, he opened it up and examined the sapphire-laden necklace within. It sparkled beautifully against the silver chain of the necklace. Each sapphire—five total—had been cherishingly placed within the necklace. It was expert workmanship. A true gift for any great lady. And he'd cost his people a week's worth of wages for it.

Sighing, he closed the box and took it in his hand. Jorah left his study and headed for his chambers. Lynesse oft buried herself in there—sewing, writing, reading—as if it was the only place that felt like hers. Opening the door, sure enough, there she was, working on one of her dresses. "Hello, husband," she greeted with a sigh. "Is training over already?"

"Mm. My Aunt told me she attempted to draw you out for training yourself," Jorah said, closing the door behind him and entering their room further. It had once been a scarce room with naught but a bed, wardrobe and desk. There had been a fur on the floor and against the wall. Now those furs had been replaced with expensive rugs. The bed was adorned with a silk canopy and sheets. Lynesse's dresses and jewelry were overflowing, not having enough containers to keep them all. This room was set entirely apart from the others. It was out of place from the simple, scant interior of the rest of the Hall.

"She did," Lynesse gave a single nod. "But then she took one look at my hands and deemed them unfit to grip an ax, let alone a sword. Not that I minded. The only weapon I shall wield is my needle . . . and the most potent one of all . . . that which rests between my legs," she said with a small smirk. "I don't require an ax to slay a bear."

Good. Her mood wasn't entirely in shambles. Jorah, smirking at her words, came up behind her and pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. "My sweet love. For enduring such a coarse interaction with my Aunt," he presented the box to her. Her eyes lit up immediately, and she snatched the box with a squeal. Jorah chuckled and sat back on the bed, watching her drop her needle and thread in her eagerness to see what was inside.

Rising from her sewing chair, she opened it . . . and brought her hand to her chest. "Oh, Jorah," she breathed, her eyes misty. "My sweet bear. My doting husband." She took the necklace from within the box and held it up to her neck, immediately running to the mirror to inspect herself. "This is the most beautiful necklace I have ever seen," she declared. Jorah felt his heart warm at her joy. He had pleased her so. Yes, the week without pay was worth this. Everything was worth it to see that treasured smile on her lips.

"You like it?" he questioned, and she spun around, running right for him. Jorah gasped, and then released a loud, rich laugh as she tackled him onto the bed.

"I LOVE it," she corrected him, covering his face in kisses. "Oh, wait until my sisters see me in this. They'll die with jealousy," she purred pleasantly, and then proceeded to put it on. Her tackle had landed her right on his lap, and once the necklace was securely in place, she shoved his back down to meet the bed. Lynesse's legs tightened around his waist, and she smirked coyly down at him. Jorah felt his blood start to rise, his heart pumping rapidly in his chest. Her hips moved slowly, grinding against him in little strokes. Jorah breathed out softly, his hands moving to grip her waist, fingers burying in the fabric of her dress.

"You shall have to tell me how it looks, my love," Lynesse whispered, and she lowered her head, kissing him. Jorah lifted his hands to her back, fingers splayed against her back. He was pulling her up against him, but Lynesse pulled away with a little bite to his lower lip. That had certainly sparked his hunger. Giggling, she pulled up and off of him, then disappeared behind the divider where she dressed. Jorah groaned and continued laying.

"You are enough to tease a Septon to Sin," he informed her. His hands were already going for his breeches, intending fully to stroke one out, since his wife was too occupied in trying out her new accessory with her clothes.

"Ah, ah," he heard from the divider. Jorah looked up, and his lips parted. There his wife stood—entirely naked—save for the sapphire necklace around her neck. It stopped right between her breasts, leading the eye inevitably to those beautiful, pink nipples. His cock throbbed in his breeches, but he was rendered immobile by the lusty, playful look Lynesse fixed him with now. Her fingers trailed down her body, playing with her nipples as she slowly walked up to him. "What do you think, husband?" she purred, turning around slowly for him. Jorah gratefully admired her arse before her front came back into view. "Does it compliment my tone?"

"You wear it properly, my lady," Jorah replied. "A dress would never be able to do it the same justice as your skin does now." She gave a throaty giggle and made her way to him. Jorah felt his arousal double with every step she took. His mind was clouded with his lust. He needed her.

She jumped onto the bed, standing over him. Jorah could see a delicious glistening at her thighs, and his cock jumped in his breeches. "Then I am only to wear it naked?" she said, moving her hips in a swivel motion above him. Jorah gave her an entreating look, his hands sliding up her ankles and calves. "Sounds as though it might lead to potential violence. My husband is very much a bear, you see," she said, her hand trailing along the glittery necklace, fingers tracing each sapphire lovingly. That hand continued down to her tummy . . . then rubbed over herself, spreading her honey over the lips of her quim. "And he'd destroy any man who even dared to look at such a sight."

Jorah was suffering. He was burning in his clothes, and his cock had become so hard, it was causing physical pain in his breeches, which were stretched to their maximum. "Lynesse," he breathed desperately, his eyes wild.

She gave him a triumphant look and then sat right down on his lap. Grinding herself into him, he felt the heat of her right through his breeches and groaned loudly. "I have a bear to tame, it seems," she bit her lip, and then quickly grabbed his tunic, pushing it up over his head. Jorah sat up, trying to help her. As soon as it was off, she was shoving him back onto the bed and making quick work of his breeches. Before Jorah could even lean up to properly remove them, she had grabbed his cock and sheathed herself on it. "OH!" she shouted at the same time he swore aloud.

Drenched, she was. A delicious hot, wet trembling glove around him. His breeches had made it to his knees and that was about it. Lynesse seemed not to care, for she was grinding herself in his lap, moving her hips from side-to-side and swiveling. He was panting harder, his brain fit to burst with his desire. His hands grabbed at her thighs, fingers digging in insistently. His wife ground just a little more before pulling up and thrusting herself down upon him. She cried out again, her head throwing back. Jorah grunted, his hands digging further into her thighs, leaving bruises behind, he was sure.

She had teased him enough, he'd direct now. He used his strength to pull her up and down on his cock, his hips moving to meet her and drive himself just that much deeper inside of her. Lynesse shouted out her pleasure, her beautiful body arching towards him, her head thrown back, hair touching the top of her arse. Jorah ran his hand over this arch, his palm engulfing a breast. Lynesse trembled against him, her hips moving down faster as he teased a nipple. "Jorah!" she released in a sharp breath, her hand gripping his wrist. Jorah smirked and tugged the nipple, giving her a hard pinch. "Ah! YES!" she gave a guttural cry and dropped both of her hands to his chest, using him as leverage as she rode down severely against him.

The sound of their slapping flesh echoed in their chambers. Jorah felt each stroke drive him further up the wall in this heady mix of pleasure and sharp lust. The necklace was bouncing against her skin with every thrust, and he felt a beastly need to tear it off of her. But that would be a ruin of silver, and he dared not give into this animalistic urge. Instead, he merely tried to outdo and thrust faster underneath her. Lynesse's mouth dropped open in a silent scream as he fucked her somewhere rather special. It was tight and nearly overwhelming for himself as well.

"OHHH YES! RIGHT THERE!" she shouted, scratching at his chest. Jorah hissed at the pain, but it served him to drive harder into that tight area over and over, the pain mixing headily with the pleasure. Their bed rocked, the four poster beams shuddering with their furious movements. Jorah was building far too quickly. Their passion had always consumed him entirely.

"Lynesse!" he gasped hoarsely, the pulsing in his body all beginning to center on one point. She was nearing her end as well. Her cries became low-pitched, and she was grinding more than thrusting. "Ahhhh," he shuddered as she suddenly squeezed tightly around his cock, hugging and throbbing around him. She released a sharp cry as her body strained. Jorah could feel her thighs trembling and shaking on either side of him. The power of her orgasm sent him right into his own, the undulations too intense for him to survive.

"LYN!" he shouted, his hips rising up a little as he clutched her against him, emptying his seed into her. His orgasm rode through him in powerful waves, leaving his skin tingling, and his head aching. "Oh gods," he breathed as he floated down, resting against the bed. Lynesse lay across his torso, and he could feel her hot breath against his chest, tickling the hair there. The cold from her necklace was making him shiver as well, pressed against his skin as it was.

Lynesse slowly rose, pushing back up on him. They met each other's gaze, and she lowered her head to kiss him. Jorah returned it with every ounce of love he had in him. His affection and adoration of this woman knew no bounds. Her lips slowly left his, giving his ear a quick lick and suck. Jorah shivered hard at that. She'd discovered that weakness the third day of their marriage and delighted using it against him. "Come, my bear," she said, crawling over him towards the head of the bed. "It is mating season."

Jorah lifted an eyebrow and turned on his stomach, looking up at her. She was grinning back at him, on her hands and knees and swaying her arse seductively at him. Jorah chuckled and felt new heat prickle against his skin, and he rushed forward to attack her instantly. Yes. That necklace was worth far more than a few weeks' worth of pay. Her smile . . . that look in her eyes . . . it was worth the whole damned island.