‘I’ll help you.’ She moved to kneel before him and together they worked to rid him of his boots. When they’d both been set aside, her hands went to the hem of his under-tunic and she lifted it over his head. She tossed it over her shoulder, but had no idea where it landed. All she knew was that he was perfect and she allowed herself a moment to appreciate his singular male beauty.
His chest was lightly furred with dark blond hair and his skin had a golden sheen that she assumed he’d acquired from going without an under-tunic and tunic over the summer. She’d itched to touch it ever since she’d attended him in his bath. The two candles that were lit caressed him in equal parts shadow and light, revealing the strong lines and sculpted curves of his muscled torso.
‘You can touch me.’ He was grinning at her, drawing her into the space between his knees.
She moved reverently, almost afraid to claim that which was now hers. His skin was warm and supple beneath her palm when she finally made contact. Slowly, she allowed her hand to move down over his solid chest, his hard nipples and down farther to the ridged planes of his stomach. She would have gone even lower, but when her fingertips touched the waist of his trousers he stopped her by grabbing her wrists. She looked at him in question and he shook his head. ‘Not yet. By the gods, if you touch me there I won’t trust myself.’ He kept his smile, but the fierce need in his eyes made her gulp. It wasn’t fear as much as anticipation that coursed through her heated blood.
‘Take off your dress.’ He stared down at her body as if willing himself to be able to see through the material.
Setting back on her knees, she wrestled with the hem of the billowy dress and slowly pulled it up. There was a brief moment when fear kept her still, but she wanted to go further and she even wanted him to look upon her as she had looked upon him. Hoping it would increase his pleasure, she pulled it over her head and tossed it behind her, leaving her in only her winter leggings.
‘So beautiful,’ he whispered, bringing his hand up between them to touch her as he had earlier when she’d been clothed. Only this time there was nothing between his fingers and her breast, so the pleasure was more intense. His fingertips and palms were hardened from years of sword work and battle, but the coarse touch only seemed to please her. His fingers rasped against her tender skin, making her ache as he plucked at her nipples.
A soft groan escaped her, prompting him to say, ‘Come.’ His hand went to the small of her back, lifting her up on to her knees and pulling her towards him as he dipped his head down. Before she fully realised his intent, he took her nipple deep into his mouth, the rough and silky stroke of his tongue laving her. So this is what he meant when he’d said he’d use his tongue in other places. A dart of pleasure shot straight to her core, making that place between her legs throb. She wanted something there, but she didn’t know how to say it or even what to ask him for. Instead she tangled her fingers into the dark blond hair at the back of his head and held him close, unwilling to relinquish the pleasure he was giving her for the unknown.
As he continued to suckle her, his hand moved down past the small of her back to fill itself with the generous curve of her bottom. She moaned a little in the back of her throat as the rhythmic squeezing of his palm combined with his mouth at her breast made the ache inside her seem nearly unbearable. She shifted, rubbing her thighs together to alleviate the throbbing between them, but nothing seemed to help.
His mouth finally released her and his hands moved to the fastenings of her leggings, pushing them down over her hips before helping her to stand so that she could step out of them. In but a moment she was nude and standing before him.
His admiring gaze stole over her, finally making its way up to her face where it settled on her eyes. ‘You’ve done me a great honour in becoming my wife,’ he said.
She wanted to tell him that she was the one who was honoured, but she couldn’t speak past a throat that was swollen nearly closed with emotion.
‘Lie down for me?’ His voice was textured with emotion and longing.
She nodded and moved on to the thick furs piled on the mattress. His bed was a hundred times more comfortable than the one she shared with Ellan, she thought as she settled on to her back on a fur, sinking into its warmth. He made to turn and join her, but she didn’t want to be deprived of the sight of him. ‘Can I see you first?’ When he raised a brow in question, she nodded towards his trousers, biting her lip in mild embarrassment at how forward she was being, but it was her wedding night and he made her feel like she could say anything to him.
He grinned at her and rose to stand beside the bed. Powerful and beautiful, he looked down at her as he unfastened his trousers and pushed them down his muscled thighs. Once free from the confines of the fabric, his manhood sprang upward, nearly reaching his navel. Her lips parted on a silent gasp as she stared at him. Somehow she’d never thought that part of him would be quite so large or quite so domineering. It stood there as proud as a conquering...well, as proud as a conquering Dane. She nearly laughed at her own jest, until she realised that that part of him would have to somehow work its way inside her to spend. To say that it was as thick as her wrist might be a slight exaggeration, but not by much.
He released the ties that held the bed curtains back and they closed around him, sending their world into shadowed darkness as he joined her on the bed. She pushed up on to her elbows at the same time he lowered to his knees above her. ‘Rolfe, I don’t—’ His mouth took hers in a deep and searching kiss, leaving her breathless when he pulled back to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses across her jaw and down her neck. Her skin prickled in absolute adulation to be the recipient of his attention, but she couldn’t put the sight of him from her mind.
‘I don’t think...’ Her voice trailed off. How did one properly address this? No one had told her he’d be so large. Maybe everyone had known but her.
‘Hush...’ he whispered, coming back up to take her mouth. ‘Don’t think about it yet. Lie here and let me love you. I’ll tell you when it’s time to think about that.’
‘Do you vow it?’
His easy smile against her lips somehow reassured her. ‘Aye, you have my word.’ With a gentle hand on her shoulder, he pushed her lightly until she relented and laid back. Then his hand trailed from her shoulder to her breast and down farther to ease over her belly. His mouth followed, trailing hot kisses over her skin. When he stopped to lavish each of her nipples with attention, she closed her eyes and sank her fingers into the silk of his hair. With his mouth working over her, it was easy to forget the coming invasion and even the men waiting outside their door to listen as the deed was done. In the dark cocoon of their bed, there was only the pleasure he was giving her.
Much to her surprise, his mouth moved even lower, past her breasts, scaling over her stomach as his arm skilfully moved under her thigh, sending it farther across the bed so that he could slip between her legs. She stiffened, but he didn’t take his mouth from her, moving down to her hip and then her thigh, shifting lower so that he could kiss the inside of her knee. Rotating her slightly, he let his tongue dip into the sensitive crevice behind her knee. She relaxed immediately as the slick pleasure of the caress. It wasn’t until he was pushing her thighs farther apart that she realised he’d worked his way upwards, settling his shoulders between her thighs.
He placed a kiss on the dark curls guarding the mound of her womanhood. ‘Rolfe!’ He did it again, this time letting his tongue dip out to touch her. ‘That’s wicked.’ Remembering his comment about the thin walls, she was sure to keep her voice very low.
‘It’s not. I’m your husband. Nothing we do together in this bed is wicked.’
She couldn’t think of an immediate response and he’d spoken so loudly she was certain the men had heard. She’d never be able to face anyone tomorrow if they guessed what he was doing to her now.
‘How does that feel?’ he asked. When he repeated the action, he pressed d
eeper, his tongue penetrating the folds to the tender and throbbing flesh beneath. How did one answer that? There were no words to convey how the slick and rough slide of his tongue against an area so intimate she didn’t even have a name for it felt. Instead of answering with words, she settled for an incomprehensible sound that she hoped he took for aye. He couldn’t possibly mistake how her thighs fell open to welcome him.
With a soft laugh, he renewed his attack on her body. His fingers held her open, so that his tongue could swipe out in slow and lazy glides against her aching flesh. She didn’t mean to, but she bucked beneath him in response, somehow needing more of that delicious stroke. Her thighs fell open even wider and her fingers curled in his hair to hold him against her. His attack became less lazy and more focused. His tongue swirled around the aching nub, giving her just the right amount of pressure, but somehow not enough all at the same time. She needed more...of something.
Then his finger stroked her as he continued to lick her, the coarse pad moving through her wetness and pressing inside. She moaned when he filled her with it and retreated, only to press inside again. The rhythm was mesmerising and she moved with it, seeking even more. Much to her delight, another finger quickly joined the first, stretching her, leaving her feeling deliciously full of him.
He growled against her flesh as he pleasured her. ‘Come apart for me, Saxon. I want to taste your pleasure.’ That harsh and raspy command was her undoing. Combined with the steady rhythm of his fingers and tongue against that swollen nub, she felt a tidal wave of pleasure cresting over her. It took her over completely, making her body tighten and pulse, trembling around his fingers where they pressed so deeply inside her.
Delicious tremors were still pounding through her as he moved smoothly up her body to hold himself just over her with his weight on his right arm. His hips settled into the cradle of hers and she felt the broad tip of his manhood pressing against her.
‘Now,’ he whispered against her lips and she tasted pleasure on him. ‘Now I must come inside you.’
She nodded, but she wasn’t as afraid as she might have been without the pleasure still coursing through her and weighting her limbs. Her arms went around his shoulders to hold him close and fit herself against him. Distantly, she heard his gasp as he pushed inside her a little. The fit was tight and it burned a bit as he stretched her, but at the same time she wanted more of him, wanted to be as close to him as she could get. She could feel her channel grasping at him and he must have, too, because he groaned in the back of his throat and pressed forward. Pulling back a little, he thrust forward again. In the little bit of light that seeped in around the curtain she could tell his face looked pained.
‘Only a little further,’ he whispered.
She wasn’t certain what he meant until he retreated, only to thrust until he was fully seated within her. She couldn’t help the little cry she gave and he immediately tried to soothe her, his lips brushing across her temple and whispering tender words. A hand came to her breast, his thumb strumming over the nipple.
She felt completely full of him, but after a moment of his careful attention, a tug of longing began where they were joined, an echo of the pleasure he’d given her. She shifted, testing the tight fit.
‘I can’t wait any more.’ His voice sounded pained.
She realised that he was asking for permission to continue. ‘Aye,’ she whispered, wanting to give him the same pleasure he had given her. The pain had receded to discomfort, aided by the tremors that still occasionally shook her.
He moved his hips and she was surprised at the pleasant sensation. It wasn’t nearly as intense as that he’d given her before, but it made her want more. She lifted her hips to meet his motion and he made a harsh sound, his hand moving to her hip to stay her.
‘Don’t move or I’ll spend now. I want to make it good for you again,’ he whispered as he rocked his hips against hers.
Spending now didn’t seem like a bad thing to her. The entire point of this was to get him to spend, but his strong hand on her hip kept her in place. So instead of moving her hips, she clenched her inner muscles, tightening around his thick manhood where it was buried deep inside her, testing her ability to give him pleasure.
‘Ah, Saxon!’ He made a low, groaning sound deep in his chest and said something harsh in his language that she didn’t understand. As if he had no control, his hips bucked against her and he took her with an intensity that stole her breath away. Aching to get even closer to him, she tightened her arms around him and wrapped her legs around his thighs. With his face buried in her hair, he gave a deep guttural cry as he found his release, pumping his hips in a few last desperate thrusts as he spilled his seed. His voice was so loud and deep, so unmistakably filled with male satisfaction, that she knew that’s what the men outside had been waiting for.
She kept holding him when he fell over her, in awe of the power she had over him and the wonderful thing that had happened between them. She’d never dreamed that such pleasure was possible. It seemed like sorcery. As his body shook with leftover tremors, much like her own had, she buried her face against his chest and stroked the hair at the back of his neck. Fate had given her a gift in the form of Rolfe and she never wanted to let him go.
Chapter Fourteen
Sounds of feasting filtered into the chamber from below, but here in their warm, dark bed, there were only the sounds of Elswyth breathing and the echoes of her cries of pleasure ringing in Rolfe’s ears. For as long as he lived he would never forget the sweet sound of his wife—his Saxon—coming apart in his arms. The soft and desperate cry had urged him to lead her to an end whose existence she probably hadn’t even been aware of, yet she’d trusted him to take her there anyway. Brushing a palm along the length of her lithe body, he squeezed her hip and placed a kiss to her temple as his heart swelled with tenderness for her. He was dangerously close to losing himself to her. He could feel it, but he had no way of stopping it from happening, save walking away from her and that was something he couldn’t do.
Easing from the bed so as not to wake her, he pushed back one of the curtains to allow in some candlelight. It swept across her breasts, giving him a view of the lush mounds of flesh with their pink tips. By the gods, she was beautiful. His manhood tightened and swelled, so he forced himself to look away. She’d be too sore for any more bed sport tonight.
Some thoughtful servant had left a pot of water along with a pitcher of mead on the table before they had retired for the evening. It had grown lukewarm, but he still used it to clean himself and then picked up a square of linen and wet it for Elswyth. She roused when he sat on the bed, smiling up at him with a flush on her cheeks. He eased her knee upwards and with gentle strokes washed away the evidence of their joining before tossing the square away. To his surprise she hadn’t resisted, only lain there watching him with joy and contentment shining in her eyes.
‘How do you feel? Was I too rough with you?’ He couldn’t resist dragging a fingertip down the sweet, intimate flesh that was still open to him. She smiled and he ran his hand down her soft inner thigh, unable to stop touching her.
She shook her head. ‘I’m a little sore, but that’s to be expected. You were actually quite gentle for a barbarian, Dane.’
Chuckling, he grabbed her hips to hold her in place as he moved quickly to lie on top of her. She giggled and swatted at his shoulders, but he grabbed her wrists and held her arms to the furs at her back. ‘Is this more of what you had in mind, Saxon?’
‘Aye, I knew the tenderness wouldn’t last.’
She didn’t sound as if she minded, turning her head and offering more of her neck to him as he kissed her. He was awed and surprised when she curled her legs around his waist to hold him in place. After the way she’d reacted to their first kiss, he hadn’t known what to expect from her in their bed. His fear had been that she wouldn’t allow herself to enjoy the things he could show her, but she seemed
to have put her initial reservations behind her.
Unfortunately, this position wasn’t conducive to his resolution to allow her sufficient time to recover before he took her again. He’d already swelled to his full length against her and was aching to be inside her again. Instead, he let her go and pushed away to sit back on his knees. ‘The rough bed sport starts tomorrow. Every bride deserves one tender night.’
She pushed up on an elbow, shocking him even further when she looked directly at his engorged shaft with curiosity. ‘You’re...’ She paused as if searching for a way to describe him. ‘Hard again?’
‘Aye, it’s possible to spend more than once a night.’ It was also possible that he’d pass the rest of his life in this particular state with her as his wife.
She glanced up at him as if she’d never considered that possibility, before staring back down at his length. ‘May I touch you?’
He nearly groaned, knowing it would only make him desperate for her, but wanting her to be comfortable with him, so he nodded, not trusting his voice to speak. Her initial touch was tentative and soft, but she soon grew bolder and took him in hand. He could tell that she grew aroused by touching him; her breathing came faster and her eyes darkened. Finally, she whispered, ‘I won’t mind if you want to...put yourself inside me again.’
A deep groan of frustration escaped him before he could stop it and he moved away from her touch. ‘I would love nothing more, wife, but you must heal.’ If he was honest with himself, there was a healthy dose of self-preservation in his refusal as well. Bedding her had broken down the meagre barrier he’d been able to erect against her. He needed some time to put the pieces back together before taking her again.
Picking up a fur, he wrapped it around his waist to hide his desire from her. Not that hiding it did anything to make it go away. Deep pulsations of need continued to pound through him, so he moved to the table in his chamber and poured himself some mead before taking a long swallow.
Marrying Her Viking Enemy Page 15