He gritted his teeth as Torunn turned her head to bite down on her arm to stifle her moans. Her hot depths tightened around his cock and even as he tried to maintain his focus, he could feel it falter as she pushed back against him to encourage him to move faster.
“Harder,” she begged with a ragged breath.
Bersi’s own breaths were coming hard and fast, and he knew it would be impossible for him to maintain this pace for much longer. His leg ached, his cock throbbed, and Torunn was glorious beneath him. She moved with him, her body stretching to welcome every inch of his cock with an insatiable appetite. If Odin had chosen that moment to take him to Valhalla, he would have died a happy man with his cock buried deep in Torunn’s furious heat.
“Stop,” she whispered fiercely. “Stop—”
Bersi froze in place, body tense and shivering as he waited for her command. Had he done something wrong?
She pulled away from him and he bit down on his tongue to keep from groaning as his cock pulled free of her wet cleft.
He struggled to his feet and his leg faltered at the sudden change in his stance. He grabbed a roof beam to steady himself and reached for the edge of his breeches.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
Torunn was not getting dressed, she knelt on the dirt floor in front of him and he looked at her in surprise. “I—”
“Your mistress is not finished with you,” she murmured. Her eyes were on his cock, and her hand trailed down his hip and over his thigh as she tugged his breeches out of his grasp.
“But—”
“Shut your mouth, Bersi,” she commanded and he did as he was told.
She held him in place with gentle fingers as her lips pressed against his stomach, and he could feel her breath on his cock.
Oh, Gods…
Bersi’s head fell back as her tongue stroked along the side of his cock. She did not tease him, and he let out a strangled gasp as her hand wrapped around his hard length and she took his cock into her mouth.
Her hand tightened around him, stroking gently, as she took him deeper and deeper into her throat. He wanted to move his hips, to bury his hand in her hair and watch her take every inch of his cock down her throat, but he held tight to the beam and prayed silently that he would be able to withstand this delicious torture she was inflicting on him.
He dared to look down at her and could not stop the groan that rippled through his chest as he watched her free hand slip between her thighs to tease her own pleasure back to its height.
Every inch of his skin was tight and hot, and all he could think about was Torunn and the heat of her wet mouth on his cock. Her hand moved quickly, and she moaned around his hardness as her climax neared. His own break was nearing, he could feel it building deep in his belly, and there was no stopping it. He had dreamed of this moment for months. Stroked his hand over his cock many times while imagining this exact scenario.
Torunn’s mouth pulled away from his cock, and he almost choked on his groan at the loss of that steady suction. But her hand kept moving, kept urging him onward.
She looked up at him with dark eyes that were full of lust and passion. “Are you ready for me, Bersi?” she breathed.
“Yes,” he gasped.
Her smile was quick and her eyes fluttered closed as her body arched. Her hand tightened on his cock and he did not bother to stifle his groan as his climax surged forward.
As though she knew what was coming, Torunn resumed her strokes, faster and faster as she leaned forward and took the head of his cock into her mouth once more.
She moaned again and her eyes closed as she shuddered with her release, and Bersi gritted his teeth as his climax roared through him. He had expected Torunn to rear back and let him spill his seed on the floor, but she took his cock in her mouth greedily. Moaning and humming as his cock twitched and his climax took over.
He swayed on his feet as the roar in his mind subsided. If he had not been holding on to the roof beam, he would have collapsed to the ground.
Torunn leaned back and smiled at him. A satisfied cat if he had ever seen one.
“I couldn’t allow you to finish inside me,” she said casually as she wiped her hand over her mouth. “How would I explain that I had been made pregnant by my slave… I may be the sister of the Jarl, but there are some things that could not be forgotten or pushed aside.”
Bersi took a shuddered breath. He understood well enough. He reached down to help her up, but she paused and her fingers pressed against the scar she had given him. It was long and ugly, knotted by the infection that had almost taken his life.
“I am sorry for this,” she murmured.
“I would have killed you,” he chuckled as he pulled her to her feet.
Her eyes flickered with something like anger, and she turned away from him to pull up her breeches and secured them at her waist once more.
Bersi dressed quickly and tried to ignore the urge to pull Torunn into his arms. She would never allow such a thing. Not now. He had forgotten his place… again.
“Go back to the house,” she snapped. “I shall return later.”
“I should accompany you.”
“Should you?” She whirled around and glared at him. “Do you think to own me now?”
His gaze dropped. “No, mistress.”
“Get out.”
He pulled his cloak over his shoulders and strode across the hut. He dared to glance at her as he opened the door, but her arms were crossed over her chest and her glare was hard and angry.
He had been a fool to think that he could possess her, and he did not doubt that she would remind him of it at every opportunity.
Shouts echoed through the village as he stepped out into the street and the throb in his chest was replaced with something else. The shouts he heard were different. Not the noise of a village preparing for market, or the sounds of a new day beginning. There was excitement in their voices…
Feet pounded over the dirt road and a herd of small boys ran toward him. Bersi stepped out of the way but grabbed one of them by the arm.
“What is it? What is happening?” he demanded.
The boy wrenched his arm out of Bersi’s grasp. “Ships!” he shouted. “Ships in the harbor! The ice has broken!”
Fuck.
The door of the woolshed slammed behind him and Torrun was at his side. Her eyes were wide and her face was still flushed from their tryst. She was beautiful and his chest ached as he looked at her.
“Ships?”
He nodded. “Jarl Sigurd has made good on his promise.”
Torunn’s mouth tightened and she turned away from him and strode down the street toward the great hall.
Bersi’s hands tightened into fists as he followed after the boys. He wanted to be with Torunn; she would need his support. But trying to make her believe such a thing was impossible. For now, he needed to see the ships for himself.
Chapter 5 ~ Torunn
Her blood pounded in her veins as she stormed through the streets. She had made a mistake. An unthinkable mistake. A stupid, foolish, selfish mistake. She should never have given in to her lust.
It should have been easy.
Her brothers fucked their slaves without consequence. Why couldn’t she do the same?
It should have meant nothing to her.
He should have meant nothing.
But the moment he touched her, she knew that was impossible.
Maybe it was because he was not truly a slave. He was her property, his life belonged to her—but he was no slave. She could feel it in his eyes when he looked at her. She could see it in the way his shoulders moved as he brought his axe down on the wood he chopped for her fire. And she could feel it in his presence when he walked behind her, or stood nearby.
Torunn cursed under her breath and lifted her chin as she walked. She had to speak to her brothers. If Jarl Sigurd had arrived, there would be much to do—too much that she had put off for far too long in the faint hope that the o
ld man would change his mind and forget his promise. A foolish notion. What man would turn down the opportunity to be allied with men like her brothers? Hallvard wanted to raid and gain power for himself. He was volatile, and dangerous, but he would make other men wealthy.
It would not be long before other great men would come calling for the same favors. Jarl Sigurd was just the first. And he would claim the greatest prize if he married her.
Torunn made a face and tried to ignore the dull ache that pulsed between her thighs. The less she tried to think about Bersi, the more he loomed in her mind. But the alternative was thinking about Jarl Sigurd and what he would be like as a husband.
Her hand flinched for the knife at her hip. No. She could not think about that.
She would rather die than allow that old man to touch her body the way Bersi had. She would rather risk war than let him see her naked.
With gritted teeth, Torunn turned toward her father’s house—Hallvard’s house. The village was awake now and people moved through the streets with a new purpose. If the Jarl’s ships had been sighted, it would not be long before he and his men would be entertained in the great hall, and then the mead would flow and the cooking fires would be lit and the smell of meat and celebration would be in the air.
She had never felt sicker.
Her father would have spat on Jarl Sigurd’s boots and refused to allow him to step foot in Skaro. She could not imagine his rage if he had lived to see his sons welcoming an enemy such as Sigurd to their shores. But her father was dead—and the dead have no opinions.
Purposeful steps carried her to the door of her father’s house and she stood outside the door and tried to put her thoughts in order, she wanted to speak to Hallvard, but what would she say to him? The decision had already been made—the bargain was set.
She was the price of the alliance between Skaro and Bitra. As much as their father had ignored him and diminished him in every way possible, Jarl Sigured had become a powerful man. Hallvard needed Sigurd’s ships, and his warriors, if he wanted to return to the Saxon’s shores and continue raiding. And raiding was all Hallvard had wanted to do since he was a little boy.
Asgaut would do as he was told, but Torunn had begun to doubt that he would be content to be ordered around for too much longer. Asgaut had his own agenda, she was certain of that much.
“Tell the Jarl that I am here to see him,” Torunn said to a passing servant. The woman’s eyes widened and she nodded before hurrying inside the house. Torunn strode through the door and grabbed a cup from the long wooden table that had been set inside the main room of the house. The fire always burned there, as it did in the great hall, and when her father was Jarl, there was always mead and bread available for anyone who would visit.
The table was still set with mead and bread, but the house felt colder than when her father was alive. She filled her cup from a jug that stood beside the tray of cups and took a deep drink.
There was movement at the door to Hallvard’s chamber and Torrun set down her cup. But it was not her brother who appeared at the door. “The Jarl is still sleeping,” a woman’s voice said.
The woman had a woollen shawl wrapped around her shoulders, and Torunn could see that she was naked beneath it. “Well, wake him up,” Torrun snapped. “Jarl Sigurd’s ships are approaching.”
“You must be excited for your new husband’s arrival,” the woman said. Her smile was as cold and blank as her dark eyes and Torunn struggled to remember her name.
“Go and fetch my brother.”
“He will wake soon enough,” she replied calmly. “The Jarl was awake late into the night. The cares of Skaro’s people keep him from his bed for too many hours.”
Torunn’s hand tightened around her cup. This woman was far too comfortable speaking to her in such a manner. As though they were equals.
“If you will not wake him, then I will,” she snarled. Torunn slammed the cup down onto the table and strode to the door. The woman tried to step into her path, but Torunn pushed her aside. The woman stumbled and the blanket slipped down to expose her breasts, and she whirled on Torunn like an animal.
“You dare—”
Torunn pulled her knife from her belt and held it against the woman’s collarbone, stopping her in mid-stride. Her dark eyes widened as the blade touched her skin.
“You would do well to remember who I am,” Torunn whispered. “I could slit your throat right now and watch you bleed out onto the floor… They would all watch. No one would do anything to save you, and I would not be punished. If you try to touch me again, I will do it, and I will feel no remorse, nor ask the gods for their forgiveness for taking your life.”
The woman’s throat moved as she swallowed, but her eyes burned with anger. Who had this woman been before Hallvard had found her?
“Get out of my sight,” Torunn snarled.
She pulled her knife away from the woman’s collarbone and smiled briefly to see a bright ruby bead of blood trail down her pale skin. The woman did not move, but she looked down at the floor instead of staring into Torunn’s eyes. A small enough victory, but a victory all the same. Perhaps she would learn her place without losing any more blood.
Torunn pushed open the door to her brother’s chamber and stepped into the darkness. She could hear him breathing, but Hallvard was not alone. Another woman was sprawled across the bed beside him, another on the floor.
“Hallvard,” she said loudly. “Your guests are arriving.”
The Jarl’s snores hitched abruptly, but then began again and Torunn let out a frustrated breath. There was no time for this nonsense. The woman on the floor stirred and sat up and grabbed frantically for her tunic when she recognized Torunn.
She smiled at the girl and she scrambled to her feet and left the room. Torunn watched her go, and then reached out and slapped her palm against the bottom of her brother’s bare foot.
Instantly awake, Hallvard yelped and sat up.
“Torunn! What— What is happening?”
“Jarl Sigurd has broken through the ice,” she replied stiffly. “Scouts reported his boats have been sighted. You must get up, brother.”
The second woman had not yet woken, and Hallvard shoved at her carelessly. She groaned and rolled over and Hallvard snatched the blanket off her naked body.
“Get out,” he snapped. The woman finally opened her eyes and glared at him before reaching for her discarded dress. Torunn did her best not to chuckle, but it was a difficult task. The woman pulled the dress over her head, muttered something Torunn could not hear, spat on the floor, and rushed out of the room.
“Do your conquests always curse you before they leave?” she asked mildly.
Hallvard snorted and waved a dismissive hand at the door. “What do I care? They already believe that the village is cursed by the gods, what’s one more curse from a slave going to do?”
“The gods see many things,” Torunn murmured. She had not always believed in curses, but she had never doubted the power of the gods, and it was strange to hear her brother speaking so casually of such things.
Hallvard made a derisive noise and stretched before reaching for a discarded cup of ale. He frowned at the contents and then tipped the cup back and drained it before looking at her with a more critical eye.
“It’s early, Torunn. What were you saying about guests?”
Torunn took a measured breath and met her brother’s disinterested gaze. “The ice has broken. Jarl Sigurd’s ships have been sighted.”
Hallvard’s sudden laughter startled Torunn. He rubbed his hands over his wild hair and threw back the blankets. Torunn looked away as he stood up and splashed water over his face and chest.
“The old goat is eager to make you his bride,” Hallvard cried. “Lucky for us, would you not agree, sister?”
Torunn’s jaw tightened. Of course she did not agree. He knew she did not agree.
He laughed again and pulled a pair of breeches up over his hips. “Come now, sister, do not look s
o angry. You should be happy that anyone would agree to be your husband. You are a terror. Our father complained about how difficult it would be to marry you to anyone—”
“He did not,” Torunn snapped.
Her father had never once mentioned any worries he might have had about such a thing. He had always seemed proud of her headstrong ways and her determination to be as fierce as her brothers. Marriage had never been one of his worries for her.
Hallvard grinned at her and grabbed a tunic that had been carelessly thrown over the back of a chair.
“You stink,” Torunn said abruptly. “Jarl Sigurd deserves a better welcome.”
Her brother was in a jovial mood, and he laughed at her angry words. “Then you had best put on a dress, little sister,” he said. “We cannot have the Jarl see you dressed for battle on such a day.”
“I will not.” The words were hard and cold, and her jaw was so tight it was making her head ache. She would not be dictated to. Especially not today.
“Please, Torunn. Jarl Sigurd is the first of our father’s allies to come to Skaro.”
“Jarl Sigurd was never one of father’s allies,” Torunn snapped. “You would know that if you had paid any attention to what he was trying to teach you. I do not trust his presence here now that our father is dead.”
Hallvard’s smile did not falter and Torunn felt uneasy as her brother fastened a belt around his waist. He pointed a dagger at her and waggled it in the air. “You are too suspicious.” He slid the dagger into its scabbard and then tilted his chin at her. “Go and change out of those clothes. Jarl Sigurd will be expecting a warm welcome from his bride.”
Torunn whirled around and stomped toward the door.
“Send Ragna in, will you?” he said suddenly and Torunn froze in place.
“What is she to you, brother?”
Hallvard chuckled. “Many things that do not concern you,” he replied. “Send her in.”
Torunn’s shoulders straightened and she strode through the door and out into the house. The servants were preparing for the day, and they moved out of Torunn’s path as she marched through the great room and out of the double doors. Ragna was seated by the fire, but Torunn said nothing to her. She would not stoop to doing her brother’s bidding. Especially where that woman was concerned. Torunn did not know why, but she did not trust her.
Sword of Vengeance: A Medieval Viking Historical Romance (Warrior's Claim Book 2) Page 5