28
Dagg
A man who escapes death takes no moment for granted. When I woke beside my mate, her red hair spilled across my chest, I did not hurry to rise. The fire needed tending, Svein and I needed to hunt, but it wouldn’t do to risk waking Fern. She slept as if wrung out from fighting a great battle. Which, in a way, we had. I stroked her soft hair and savored the moment. After all, it was the least I could do to let her rest.
Besides, my c**k was so hard, the slightest brush against her legs while rising would have me spilling like an untried youth.
On the other side of our mate, Svein chuckled. Go ahead, Dagg. When she wakes, I’ll be the one to pleasure her. I’m man enough to wait.
Grabbing a pelt, I flung it hard enough to whip Svein in the face while missing Fern. He laughed louder
