Page 27 of Condemned to You

“Em-“

“Don’t stop,” I demanded. “I want you to cum until you forget your own name.”

And so she did. Again, and again, and again. Each time the orgasm was more intense, and I was damn near cumming without even fully being inside of her.

With the last effort Bethany had within her to even speak, she panted “I can’t-… it’s your turn.”

Smirking at her thoughtfulness, I hoisted her up by her thighs so that both legs wrapped around my hips and slammed her down onto my cock. She was soaked and my dick slid right in without any friction. We both let out a sound of relief and I wasted no time thrusting my hips against her so violently her breasts were flying everywhere. She lashed onto my shoulder and bit down hard while I rode out the violent pulsations firing off all over my body. Cum shot out of my dick so hard that I wouldn’t be surprised if it came bursting out of her mouth. The feeling of hot liquid filling her, warming her and completing me – my face buried into her neck and hers into mine as our bodies seemed to sync as one.

My knees gave out and I fell to the floor with Bethany still wrapped around me. We remained still as I tried to catch my breath with my head resting on her shoulder.

Eventually, I looked up at her, taking in her messy hair and dewy eyes, “You’re the ruin of me.”

Feeling her body trembling, I got on my feet still holding onto her and brought her into the warm apartment placing us both on the sofa where we lay cuddled. I pulled her onto me so that her head rested on my chest as we lay there letting our bodies sync together. Her heart beat in perfect time with mine. Her hand found mine and our fingers intertwine speaking words unspoken. Synced to one another, my heart exploded. I’d never be the same man again and I didn’t want to be if it meant having a life with her. Lifting her hand held in mine up to eye level I kissed it.

“Marry me,” I said in a low calm voice not disrupting our position.

Bethany lifted her head to look at me in surprise. “What?”

“Marry me,” I repeated. “Bethany DeCarlo, I want you to marry me.”

Her eyes sparkled and a wide smile crossed her face as she collided her mouth with mine.

“Is that a yes?” I asked.

“Well I’m already married … but Freya isn’t.”

“Fair enough. Freya, will you marry me?”

“Yes, ástin mín.”

“What does that mean?” I’d been here longer than she had and I didn’t know a lick of the language, mainly because I didn’t care to learn.

“Ástin mín means my love.”

My heart felt like it had grown two sizes. “I don’t have a ring.”

“A ring isn’t important to me. I just want you.” She rested her head back on my chest.

“I have an errand to run in the morning. We can go to a chapel afterward.”

“Okay.”

What I should have done is tell her what that errand is. If I was going to marry her, I should tell her the truth about everything. Wasn’t that the right thing to do? I should start with easier things, like Athena. Before I could mention a thing, I heard Bethany snoring.

Chapter Fifteen

Bethany POV

I was not one that knew her way around the kitchen but here I was trying to make pancakes. Flour coated the kitchen countertop while I searched for the next ingredient. Did they not have pancake mix here? Dumping whatever I had into the trash, I grabbed my coat and scarf to walk down the street.

The crisp, chilly air filled my lungs as I stepped outside, and I could see my breath as it created a cloud around me. Mornings in Chicago were nothing like walking the streets of Reykjavik at this hour. The cold air invigorated my senses, making me feel alive and alert. The silence of the early morning was peaceful with only a few other early risers or locals on their way to work. The sound from the crunch of frost against the bottom of my shoe as I walked on the concrete sidewalk echoed down the block. The beauty and the charm of the city created a feeling of tranquility and wonder, making each day feel like a blessing. It was magical and I soaked up every second of it. There was something about being in a different country where we could live our lives freely without disturbance or the burden of living up to certain expectations.

The colorful houses, with their corrugated metal roofs and vibrant façades, popped against the backdrop of the clear blue sky. The sun had been rising earlier the last few days. A gentle breeze hit my face that carried the salty scent of the nearby ocean, mingling with the fresh air. The sounds of the city waking up—birds chirping, the distant hum of traffic, and the occasional laughter of children heading to school—filled the air. Unlike Chicago, where every turn was a building, my scene now was the stunning views of the surrounding mountains and the ocean. I was unsure how long I would be here for but this would forever be a memorable experience.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted out from nearby cafes, beckoning me to indulge but my heart was set on one particular bakery. As I approached the brightly decorated building, I entered and inhaled the sweet smells of pastry goodness. Back home I rarely indulged, but I could eat everything here in one sitting.

The person in front of me asked the girl over the counter, “What’s fresh?” I could tell they were from out of town given they didn’t have an Icelandic accent.