BILL: Filthy Modern Vikings (The Jorgensen's Book 2)

by M. K. Moore

  At four p.m. our dinner is ready, but there is no sign of Bill. The snow is coming down in thick white curtains and I can’t see the street through the living room window in his tiny bachelor pad.

  By five, the power is out and Hailey can’t reach him on his phone. She isn’t too worried and lays down to take a nap, since she can’t do anything else.

  At five-thirty, I am positive something is wrong and decide to put my coat on, and slip out into the elements. I am not sure what I can do if something really is wrong, but I know that I have to try.

  Once I am at street level, I head in the direction of the church. It’s a complete whiteout. It was a stupid idea, but suddenly I crash into a solid wall. A moving solid wall.

  “Daisy?” His deep voice questionably murmurs in my ear. I distinctly hear and feel him inhale deeply near my hairline.

  “Bill?” I almost have to shout because the wind is whipping up.

  “Where are you going,” he asks.

  “I was coming to find you,” I say. Our close proximity to each other is not lost on me. He moves to put his cold hands under my jacket and goes further, until he is under my favorite Minnesota Vikings t-shirt. His frozen fingers rub along my skin just above my jeans.

  I try to take a step back, but vintage Airwalks and ice don't mix. He catches me before I fall.

  “I got you, skjaldmær.” His use of an old Norse endearment makes me shiver more than the cold. He is calling me a shield maiden. A female warrior. Fuck, that is so hot.

  “Yes, you do,” I say stupidly. His lips meet mine and the kiss is the kind people go to war over. I now know that my life will never be the same again.

  Chapter Three

  Bill

  I have no idea what I was thinking to be kissing her like this. The last time I kissed a woman, Daisy probably wasn't even born yet. She's too young for me, but for some unknown reason I don't give a shit. I need to make her mine. When our lips part for a second, she pulls slightly away from me.

  “Why are you walking?” She asks as she takes my arm. I gather myself together and start to lead us towards my sad little apartment.

  “I didn't take my car this morning. It was thirty-three degrees, which is practically a heatwave here. Unfortunately, it's taken me two hours to get this far because it's coming down so thick. I really hope it clears up before the wedding tomorrow,” I say opening the door that leads to the stairs to my place.

  Immediately I am hit with the scent of chili and coffee and it smells amazing. Even when I was married, I relied on my mom, Lanie, or Erika for substance. Elaine couldn't be bothered with doing anything for me. She was an excellent mother but a shitty wife.

  “Oh good, the power’s back on. You must be freezing and starving.” She starts taking my navy blue pea coat off of me and hanging it on the coat rack, stunning me. Although nothing could prepare for what she's doing now. She goes to her knees in front of me and I have to clench my fists as she helps take my boots off.

  “What are you doing?” I ask through clenched teeth, which causes her to look up at me. Fuck. She's biting her plump lip.

  “Um. My mama always does this for my dad. Is it not normal? I'm so sorry. It’s a sign of respect and lo-, I mean respect, obviously,” she says as she is completing her task. She's adorable. She pulls her jacket off and hangs it near mine. I get a glimpse of the creamy expanse of her tummy before she pulls her t-shirt back down.

  “Where are you from, skjaldmær?” I question and she blushes. I am positive that she definitely knows what it means, but how can that be? Not many people do. She absently takes my hand and drags me into the kitchen. I sit on a barstool, while she busies herself at the stove.

  “Montgomery, Alabama, but my dad is from Moosehead.” That explains why she is brimming with southern hospitality and sweetness.

  “I've never been to Alabama,” I say taking a bite from the bowl she sits in front of me. I groan from the flavor of my first bite. It tastes as if it is something from heaven.

  “It’s home,” she says shrugging.

  “This is delicious,” I say. She gives me a huge smile that hits me right in the chest.

  “Thank you. Coffee?” she asks.

  “Please.” I watch as she puts two scoops of sugar in it and slides it over to me.

  “How did you know?”

  “Huh?”

  “That I take my coffee black with two sugars?”

  “I really don't know. That's how I take mine and obviously I assumed that you would too,” she says shrugging. The gesture is just about the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen.

  “Interesting,” I say as I take a sip and then dig back into the most amazing chili I have ever tasted. “How old are you?” I ask a little harsher than I mean to.

  “Twenty. Twenty-one in four days. You?” she asks quirking an eyebrow and I chuckle.

  “Thirty-eight.”

  “You're an old man,” she says seriously.

  “Old?” It's my turn to raise my eyebrow.

  “Much too old. Why, I'm surprised that you can get around without a cane,” she says thickening her sweet accent. She takes my empty bowl. “More?”

  “No, thank you,” I say. She takes the bowl to the sink and starts washing it. “What is your full name?” I ask.

  “Daisy Faye Prescott,” she says laughing. “You?”

  “Bjorn William Jorgenson,” I reply laughing. “But no one calls me Bjorn. It is too formal.”

  “I see. That is a very ABBA name,” she says smirking and nodding.

  “How could you possibly know about ABBA,” I ask.

  “Mama Mia, duh,” she says laughing.

  “That might not be the best representation of ABBA,” I say chuckling.

  “Bite your tongue. I made a cake. Would you like a slice?” she asks.

  “Sure. Thank you.” She sets the bowl in the strainer and pulls a plate out of the cabinet and then a huge chocolate cake from the fridge. She puts a generous slice and adds a fork to it in front of me. Then a huge glass of milk. Noticing she has ink on her body, I grab her wrist that has a Viking phrase tattoo.

  “You don't have to serve me, skjaldmær.” The nickname rolls off my tongue. She searches my face before smiling softly.

  “What if I'm meant to?” Her words go straight to my heart and my balls. I growl and shove the cake and milk to the side. I stand, lifting her onto the counter.

  “You shouldn't pick me up, I'm too heavy,” she scolds.

  “You are not in the least heavy. Besides I do work out, but in your case it is not needed ,” I say winking. She giggles.

  My hands tangle in her soft blonde curls. I angle her head so that my lips can devour hers. She tastes like icing and sin. My lips continue to move down her neck. Tasting and sucking. Her sultry moan is killing me. I reach the hem of her shirt and she doesn't stop me. I pull it over her head and suck in a breath. She tries to cover her soft rounded belly, but I don't let her. I drop my head and bend to place little kisses all over it. I kiss and lick her soft skin up to her black lace bra. Her big tits make my mouth water.

  “Daisy,” I murmur reverently. I'm not one to take the Lord's name in vain, ever, but in this moment it’s hard not to. “You are so beautiful,” I say in her ear.

  “Thank you,” she says with her hands going to my tie. She removes it like an expert. I don't dwell on the jealousy coursing through me at the thought of her with other men.

  She's sweet and feisty. She's mine.

  I've never felt any possessiveness before meeting her. I pull back from her and take my shirt off. She gasps. Her fingers go to the tattoo on my chest and she strokes it lovingly. It's from an old Viking legend. A ram's skull covered in daisies. Pretty Daisy was meant to be mine.

  I drop my head back to her chest. I pull the cups on her bra down, and her dusky rose colored nipples are hard. I take one into my mouth, where I can pull and suck on it. Her head drops back. When my hands reach the snap on her jeans she stops me from opening them. I
continue kissing her neck.

  “I'm saving myself for my husband,” she says surprising me, but with those words my future is suddenly clear.

  “Marry me,” I say without hesitation. She sits up quickly and pushes me away from her, then she hops off the counter. I watch as she tucks her tits back into her bra then picks her shirt up, but doesn't put it back on.

  “That wasn't very nice,” she says holding back tears. I frown and reach for her, but she evades me.

  “What do you mean? I was serious,” I say trying to explain.

  “Men like you don't marry girls like me,” she says before walking towards Hailey's room. The magnificent ink she has on her back needs to be further explored. She shuts the door softly, but the click resounds loudly from this side of the door.

  I stare after her for the longest time. What could she have meant by that?

  One thing I do know for certain is that her purity, the purity she saved for her husband is mine, but more than that I need her to be mine.

  Chapter Four

  Daisy

  Damn. I just acted like the biggest fool in the world. Taking my jeans and bra off, I then crawl into the unoccupied twin bed in Hailey’s room. I go over everything that just happened in my mind. For the first time, a man made me question my values. It’s not like I think any man but him would be able to do that.

  It’s not that they are precisely my values. My parents are devout Christians. Of course, I am as well but not to that degree. So, I would have to say it's him. Bill Jorgenson. Pastor Bill. Fuck. I am a depraved woman right now. That makes him a fraction hotter than he already is.

  I shouldn’t have run from him. Instead, I should have acted like a grown woman and not a sullen little girl. He asked me to marry him. I don’t know, who does that after less than an hour of knowing someone? And if it’s that crazy, then why did I want to say yes?

  I try to go to sleep, but after an hour of trying I give up. The need to talk to him and maybe get more kisses from him is pushing me towards confronting him. God, those kisses of his set me on fire.

  I creep out of the bedroom and turn in the opposite direction down the hall to other room Hailey showed me earlier. The door is partially closed, so I push it open quietly. His giant bed overwhelms the room, and he appears to be asleep, wearing only sleep pants. His bare chest moves up and down rhythmically. I enter his room and shut the door behind me. As I approach the bed, I have a moment of hesitation.

  “Come here, Daisy,” his deep voice fills the room and makes me rub my thighs together.

  “I thought you were sleeping,” I say resuming my way to the bed.

  “I’d know your perfume anywhere,” he says holding his hand out to me.

  “I don’t wear perfume,” I say honestly.

  “That’s all you then?” He asks.

  “Must be,” I say laughing. I take his hand, letting him pull me down to him, so he can nuzzle my neck and I melt into his side.

  “Couldn't sleep?” he asks.

  “No. I wanted to apologize. I shouldn't have run away. Instead, I should've explained myself better. I know it was a heat of the moment thing and I am not sure why I got so upset when you asked me to marry you.”

  “I think I get it. I want you to know that I respect your values and admire them. I asked you to marry me because I want to be your husband. I want a family with you.”

  “It's too soon. We don't know each other very well.”

  “Maybe that's true, but it doesn't change what I feel or what I want.”

  I nod and shift. Suddenly, I'm all too aware of the closeness of our bodies. His fingers are splayed possessively on my lower back as his pinky is stroking my ass. I move to leave but he stops me.

  “I should go,” I say, but I definitely don't want to.

  “Stay. Your virtue is safe, I promise. You belong beside me,” he says kissing me.

  “We can negotiate,” I say boldly.

  “Absolutely not. I will not sink my cock into you until you are my wife, but I can bring you immense pleasure until then.” I smile, because he does care about me.

  “You sound awfully sure of yourself and I haven't said yes to being your wife yet.”

  “You will.”

  He pulls my shirt over my head and tosses it away. The soft dim light of the lamp on his nightstand washes over me.

  “So beautiful.” His hands cup my boobs and I lose my mind. He is nestled between my thighs. His thin pants and my lacy panties are all that separates us.

  He moves down my body pulling my panties down my legs. He buries his face in my pussy, his beard tickling my thighs. His tongue meets my clit and I almost die. He eats my pussy like a boss until I come.

  He moves up my body and I can see his beard glistening with my juices. Leaning down he kisses me and I can taste myself on him. It's sinful and I want more. I feel his hard cock on my thigh and I'm ready to give it up to him. He moves to my side pulling me to his chest.

  “What about you? That seems painful and one sided,” I say.

  “I can wait until you are mine.”

  Fuck that. I don't like it. Not at all. I'm all about equal opportunity. I guide my hand into his pants and pull out his bare cock, stroking it a few times.

  He moves to stop me, but I surprise him by pushing him onto his back and taking him into my mouth. I hope my lack of technique is made up for by my enthusiasm. He groans and tangles his hands in my curls. He lets me suck for a few minutes before pulling me off.

  “You don't have to do this,” he says.

  “What if I'm meant to?” I say sassily. It feels as if I'm meant to. I feel all sorts of things for this man that I shouldn't, but I'm gonna. His eyes darken and he grins.

  “Suck my cock, skjaldmær. Suck it until I come down your pretty little throat.” I shiver. Holy fuck, I love the way he's talking to me. I take him back into my mouth and give him the release I can tell he desperately needs. His hips move quickly as he works his way to release.

  His whole body tightens as he unleashes a torrent of hot salty delicious seed down my throat. I kiss the tip of him softly before he hauls me up and he devours my mouth soundly.

  “Thank you. That was beyond words.” He feathers kisses over my face. “Sleep, skjaldmær. We have a busy day tomorrow.”

  I settle into his side and he pulls the blankets over us. He's all I can think about as sweet sleep claims me.

  Chapter Five

  Bill

  When I wake, she isn't in bed next to me where she belongs, but I do smell bacon. I get out of bed and head into the kitchen. My pretty girl is making breakfast and talking to Hailey. She has put on some pajamas and I don’t like it.

  “Morning Dad,” Hailey says with her eyes twinkling.

  “Morning noodle.”

  “Coffee?” Daisy asks, while smiling softly.

  “Sure,” I say sitting at on a barstool. I am not sure if I’ll be able to sit at this counter again and not see her under me.

  “So how was your night?” Hailey asks, and I know she knows.

  “It was good. Very relaxing,” I respond as I am watching the blush rise on Daisy’s cheeks.

  “I bet. I’m sure the neighbors heard just how relaxing it was,” she says laughing.

  “Don’t be that way Hailey. You don't need to make it sound sordid,” Daisy says, handing me a cup of coffee. I am upset that Hailey is making my girl uncomfortable.

  “I’m not being anything of the kind, I’m only stating facts,” she says shrugging.

  “Hailey Enid, let it go,” I state firmly.

  “Fine. Alright. I am going to go get ready. We have to leave soon,” she says leaving the kitchen and heading into the bathroom.

  “You do that,” I say as my eyes widen at the plate of food set in front of me. Bacon, eggs, toast, and home fries.

  “Damn, you’re spoiling me. You don’t have to do that,” I say digging in.

  “What if I’m meant to?” She says again.

  “You kee
p saying things like that to me, and you will find yourself wifed up so fast.”

  “Stop saying things like that to me,” she says softly, before going back to her meal.

  “What if I’m meant to?” I throw her own words back at her, but I mean them.

  “What?”

  “You should just accept the inevitable, skjaldmær. You are mine.” I lean down and kiss the stunned expression off her pretty face. Her hair is still wet from her shower and she her shampoo smells like summer.

  “We’ll see,” she says kissing me again before flitting off to get ready. I finish my meal and head off to the shower.

  Normally, I'd wear a suit to marry a couple. Not today, though. Loki has me wearing a black tuxedo. I didn't even wear one when I got married. I have no idea how to tie a bow tie, so I leave it hanging around my neck.

  When I get back into the kitchen, I stop short. Daisy is standing by the counter tieing high heels up her calf. Tieing them. Up her shapely calf. I have to remind myself to breathe. Her eyes meet mine, like she knows I am in the room and I run mine down her body. She is wearing a skin tight, long sleeved, but off the shoulders black dress. It falls just below her knees with a little bit of a flare. I clear my throat.

  “You look beautiful, Daisy.”

  “Thank you. You look handsome,” she says. “Do you need some help with that?” she asks, gesturing to my neck.

  “Yes, please. I can tie a windsor knot, but that is about it,” I admit.

  “I got you, Bill. Don’t worry.” She stands in front of me and I put my arms around her waist, while she expertly ties my tie.

  “I know you do, Daisy.” Everything about this girl screams wife, and fuck if I don’t want to make that happen.

  Is it possible to fall in love in one day? Yesterday, I would have said no way in hell, but today? Today, I know it’s possible. Daisy Faye Prescott is it for me.