Bjorn

by Jane Burrelli

  He palmed her nape. Strong, dexterous fingers massaged the tense muscles. “I will not hurt you.”

  Rhiannon snorted. “My backside says otherwise.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I tanned your arse for striking me, which is grossly disrespectful in my culture. I tanned your arse again for doing something stupid like running away and leaving yourself vulnerable to any passing rogues.”

  She lifted her chin. “I am capable of defending myself, I made sure of it after…” Her voice trailed off.

  “Yes, you are capable,” Bjorn agreed, surprising her. “A little too capable and a little too brave for my liking. But a single competent swordswoman against a large group will not fare well.”

  His arm tightened around her, and he buried his face into her hair and exhaled, his warm breath leaving goosebumps in its wake. “The very thought of what they would do to you…”

  Bjorn left the thought hanging in the air between them, and Rhiannon’s face blanched. She knew very well what they would do to her, and she would rather die than endure it again.

  “It enrages me,” he finished simply. “But…”

  The emphasis of that single word drew her away from the painful memories.

  “That is all I’ll ever do, and a sting in your bottom is a small price to pay when you consider the alternative.”

  She frowned, not having considered his actions in that light before. When it was put like that…

  “We just need a little time to grow accustomed to each other,” he said. Slowly, his gaze never leaving her eyes, he raised his hand and with the back of his knuckles traced the underside of her breast.

  At first, she stiffened, shifting her weight back to draw her body away from him. Logically she knew she could trust Bjorn, but that dark fear didn’t listen to reason.

  “No more running, Rhiannon,” he reprimanded, a splayed hand on her back holding her in place. “Just get used to me. I can make you feel so good.”

  Despite his words, her muscles remained clenched, half afraid he would roll her onto her back and enter her. Rather than attempt to convince her with words, Bjorn allowed his hands to talk for him, skimming her flanks, her back, grasping her backside and massaging it roughly. By gradual degrees, Rhiannon relaxed into the warmth of his hands, which contrasted deliciously with her cool skin.

  “How does that feel?” he murmured, nuzzling the side of her neck.

  “Good.” She shuddered, rolling her head back to grant him better access. “So good.”

  His hands migrated to her front, cupping her breasts and taking their weight in his palms. She involuntarily jerked again, and Bjorn paused. Releasing a breath, she forced herself to relax. She would face this, she would conquer this fear. The men who had hurt her would not have power over her. Only then did Bjorn continue, his calloused thumbs brushing lazily back and forth, teasing her nipples into tight, turgid peaks. Darts of pleasure fluttered through her belly to the juncture of her thighs. She’d never felt anything like this before—never. Rhiannon arched her back, thrusting her breasts out for more of his attention, and lost herself to the sea of sensation.

  Bjorn studied her face, carefully gauging and measuring her reactions. He had to get this right. There would be no second chances. He had to help Rhiannon overcome her fear of touch. He had to be patient but firm and not allow her to hide from him or from herself. When her eyes became heavy-lidded, sliding closed for the briefest moment, he lightly pinched the tight buds. She gasped, her eyes snapping open, and her hips jerked forward, riding his engorged cock.

  It strained against the fabric of his trousers and he gritted his teeth. This wasn’t about him, it was about Rhiannon. He applied more pressure, rolling the reddened buds, and she whimpered. Bjorn had never heard a more erotic sound. Dipping his head, he sucked one of the pink tips into his hot, wet mouth, and she clutched at his shoulders. His fearless shield maiden, with her head tossed back and writhing on his lap while he played with her breasts, was a powerful goddess in all her glory. Magnificent. He trailed one hand down her belly to the top of her thighs and peered intently at her face. At the unspoken question in his eyes, her jaw tightened to a rigid line, and she gave a slow nod. His heart sang; she was trusting him. Bjorn found the bud between her legs, and as he had done with her breast, he ran the pad of his thumb over it. She jolted, sucking in a breath and stared at him through dark-fringed lashes.

  “You are blessed with the beauty of Freya,” he rumbled in her ear.

  Her hips rose, mimicking the strokes of his thumb.

  His large hand supporting her lower back, Bjorn lifted Rhiannon, laying her back against the furs, the fire warming his flank. Hot lips kissed down her belly, and he traced the scar on her hip with the tip of his tongue, lavishing the imperfection with attention. She rose on her elbows, looking down her body. “Wh-what are you doing?” Her voice came out breathless and shaky.

  A sly smile curled his lips, and her heart turned over. That grin was purely wicked, and a forbidden, unknown part of her fluttered in anticipation.

  “Something I think you will like.” The cryptic words hanging between them, Bjorn lowered his head.

  Rhiannon’s mouth dropped open in a silent scream, her back arching at an impossible angle. Never had she ever felt anything of the like. She tunnelled her fingers through his hair as Bjorn lashed her with his tongue and she writhed, canting her hips into his talented mouth. Thighs spreading wide, she hooked her knees over his broad shoulders, trying to draw him closer.

  “Bjorn!” The muscle’s in her belly coiled tight, searching for something that lay just beyond her grasp. Higher and higher, Rhiannon dangled on the precipice. Bjorn lifted his face from her womanhood, and a frustrated screech caught in her throat. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, the man practically radiated satisfaction. Tears of frustration gathering in her eyes, Rhiannon collapsed back down, feverish, naked, and aching. What was he doing to her?

  “Bjorn,” she gasped, her hair curling round her shoulders and arms like ropes of liquid night. “I…I…need…” She needed relief, anything to stop her nipples throbbing and put out the fire that was burning hot and bright between her thighs.

  “Me,” he said, kissing her hard on the mouth, and she tasted her own essence. “You need me. Are you ready to become my wife, Rhiannon?”

  She nodded frantically; there was no turning back.

  A finger trailed through her damp folds, and the evidence of her arousal was like lightning to the blood. He gritted his teeth, clearly fighting hard for control.

  “Look at me, Rhiannon,” he commanded, and she cracked her eyes open. “Stay with me.”

  Their eyes locked, and with the utmost care, Bjorn pressed a lone finger into her needy sheath. Rhiannon tensed at the unfamiliar invasion. “Rhiannon!”

  The snap in his voice jerked her out of the past, and she shook her head to clear it.

  “Stay with me. You are with me, you are safe.” His finger forged farther. “Say it.”

  “I am with you, I am safe.” The words were barely more than a whisper, and she still wasn’t with him.

  His hand slapped the inside of her thigh, and she cried out in surprise, her gaze retrained upon him.

  “Again,” he ordered harshly, not giving her an alternative. “Say it again.”

  She swallowed and cleared her throat, her words clear and distinct. “I’m with you, I am safe.”

  Bjorn swore. Odin’s balls but she was tense, gripping his finger tight. “Good girl,” he crooned. “My brave, brave girl. Do you want me to stop?”

  “N-no.” She trembled, determination burning bright in her green gaze. “I-I-want you.”

  She humbled him with her courage. “Then we’ll continue, slowly.”

  She nodded, and he leisurely circled his thumb over her nubbin, and Rhiannon relaxed. He added a second finger, and she hissed, clamping down on his hand. It was killing him, but Bjorn was rewarded for his time and patience as her body opened up to him, her petals un
furling. She was ready.

  Shucking out of his clothing, he rose above her, fitting his hips between her spread thighs and guided himself inside her. With his careful preparation, he slipped right in, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. She felt incredible. Hot, wet, and tight, she gripped him like a fist. He froze, balanced on his arms, allowing her to grow accustomed to him. Rhiannon’s face was tense, every muscle locked, and she breathed through her nose with her eyes squeezed tightly shut. He kissed her eyelids, the corners of her mouth, and the sensitive hollow of her neck. Those eyes remained closed. That wouldn’t do, it wouldn’t do at all. Making a snap decision, Bjorn turned them, positioning Rhiannon to straddle his lap. He braced his back against the tree, and the rough bark scratched his skin. Her eyes snapped wide at the change in position, her arms curling around his neck to steady herself.

  “Take your time, Rhiannon.” He kissed her, relieved when she melted into him, capturing her soft sigh.

  Her hands trailed over the muscles of his arms, over his chest, at first tentative and then growing bolder as Rhiannon grew in confidence. She proved to be a quick study, licking the inside of his mouth, and when the pads of her fingers brushed over his nipples, Bjorn shuddered and swore a constant litany in his head. Eyes widening, Rhiannon seemed to note his reaction, her gaze growing calculating. Bjorn gulped. He was in trouble.

  Leaning forward, she pressed hot, moist kisses to his chest, and reaching his pebbled nipple, she lightly raked her teeth over it. Bjorn’s eyes slid shut, his breathing laboured. Brandr was right, she was going to kill him, but by Odin, he would die a happy man. It took all his patience and restraint not to flip her onto her back and drive into her. Bjorn rattled off the names of his deities in his head, allowing Rhiannon to explore. Nothing had ever been more important.

  She wiggled experimentally, and Bjorn sucked in a breath. Fuuucck! He was going to spend like a boy with his first wench.

  “Bjorn, can we—”

  Oh, thank the gods, fuck yes. He settled his hands on her slender waist, encouraging her to rise and, pulling his hips back, withdrew. Her lips parted on a breath. Her soft locks trickling over his thighs, he guided her slowly back down on his proud, straining shaft and surged his hips up. A look of wonder and lust transformed her face. Her eyes became shimmering emerald pools of desire, turning heavy-lidded.

  “That’s right, Rhiannon, feel me, move with me,” he encouraged on a ragged breath.

  Her movements became more aggressive, and she mimicked him, her arms curling around his neck to drag him down for a kiss. Her inner thighs squeezed the outsides of his thighs, he rocked in and out of her. The sweet little moans she made under her breath pushed him that much closer to his own release.

  “Bjorn…”

  Rhiannon’s nails scored into his shoulders, and the base of his spine tingled, his balls drawing up. Bjorn ground his teeth and reached down to where their bodies merged. Rhiannon would find her release before him, even if it killed him. Her channel fluttered around his shaft, and she threw her hips back against him, chasing her pleasure. Bjorn pinched her nubbin, and she flew apart, crying out. Her whole body stiffened, and her eyes glazed over in rapture. Her inner walls pulsated, gripping his cock tighter, and Bjorn’s control snapped. Groaning, he shuddered, bathing her womb with his seed. Rhiannon collapsed onto his heaving chest, hiding her face in the crook of his neck as she rode out the echoing aftershocks. The soft puff of her breath against his sweat-slicked skin. Words were beyond him in that moment, and he kissed her, trying to communicate everything he felt in that single, tender touch.

  Bjorn was thankful for the tree at his back to keep himself upright. He doubted he would have had the strength to stand after spending so hard. He lifted the curtain of hair to see Rhiannon’s face, to check that she was well and that she had found pleasure in their joining, gratified to find a soft smile curling her lips. Her response had stolen his breath, and it would get only better. Tenderness unfurled inside his chest.

  “My brave little shield maiden.”

  He kissed the corner of her mouth, and she shivered, goosebumps dotting her creamy flesh. Cursing himself for his inattention, Bjorn slipped his softening cock from her body and was rewarded by one of Rhiannon’s sweetest little moans. He lifted her upon their sleeping furs before slipping in beside her and tugging the covers up over their shoulders. Rhiannon buried her face into his chest, wrapping her legs and arms round him like ivy. Surprised but delighted, Bjorn relaxed, burying his face in her silken mane, and a possessive hand drifted down to lightly stroke her lower back and bottom. Amazed that only the previous night this had been but a dream, warm and sated, Bjorn muttered his reverent thanks to the gods and allowed sleep to pull him under.

  Chapter 8

  Rhiannon stirred from sleep, cold nipping at her exposed nose and cheeks, and she curled tighter towards the source of warmth. The soft light of morning broke the darkness and turned it to a muddy grey, striking at her eyelids. Scrubbing a hand over her face, she blinked, unsure if she was still asleep. Her cheek was pressed to the warm, hard planes of Bjorn’s chest. His strong features relaxed, making him appear younger. The weak sunlight turned the beginnings of his beard golden and streaked his ash-blond hair. Her fingertips itched to trace it and feel the prickle against the pads.

  Rhiannon inhaled and promptly released a deep breath, her eyes sliding shut for the briefest moment. Heaven help her, she was losing her mind. Biting her bottom lip, she eased herself to the edge of their furs, attempting not to disturb Bjorn. No easy task when it seemed he was touching every inch of her. She was almost there when a muscular arm looped her waist and drew her back to the pocket of warmth.

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  His hot breath tickled the back of her neck, and her nipples beaded at his sleep-roughened voice. Twisting her head, she glanced back to see his eyes were still closed, but a faint smile ghosted his lips.

  She frowned. “Think about what?”

  “Leaving our bed.”

  He nuzzled the sensitive area between neck and shoulder, and her body jerked awake. Never had she thought of her neck as a sensitive location, but as of last night, Bjorn was showing she didn’t know a lot of things. The bristles on his chin and cheeks tickling her, she wriggled like a rabbit caught in a snare, but there was no escape.

  “That tickles!” Her body shook in her valiant attempt to hold back the laughter.

  Bjorn’s eyes cracked open, and undiluted mischief gleamed in their blue depths. “Does it now?” he purred.

  Before she could guess what he was about, clawed hands descended to her ribs.

  Rhiannon screeched with laughter. “Bjorn!” Bjorn discovered her sensitive spot with unerring accuracy and she gasped for air. She squirmed, and her laughter continued to bubble up. “Mercy, nooo…stop!”

  “Do you surrender?” he asked above her, his playfulness infectious, but there was no escaping his tormenting fingers.

  “Yes!” Rhiannon shrieked, the high-pitched sound sure to have scattered any game for miles. “I surrender, I surrender.” Her ribs aching, happy tears slipping down her cheeks, Bjorn relented. Rhiannon fought to catch her breath, her breasts rising and falling. He waited until the giggles died back. She hadn’t laughed like that since… She couldn’t remember the last time. He’d given her a gift and didn’t even know it. Bjorn pushed up onto his elbow and rose above her, appearing rather pleased with himself. His fingers combed her hair back from her face, and he smiled down at her. “Good morning,” he rumbled, his voice vibrating through his chest.

  Rhiannon wet her lips. “Good…good morning,” she returned with a hesitant smile.

  He picked up a lock of hair that curled temptingly over her nipple, wrapping it around his finger to give it a teasing tug.

  “Did you enjoy what we did last night?”

  Her body heated at the mere thought of what they’d done. Enjoy wasn’t the word she would use to describe it. “Yes.” She nodded, averting
her gaze, but it seemed he couldn’t let it stand.

  “Eyes on mine,” he ordered.

  She immediately opened her eyes back up to his. Bjorn nodded with approval and a hint of a smile.

  “Better. Though your blush charms me, I need to see your eyes. Did you enjoy last night?”

  “Yes,” Rhiannon breathed. “I enjoyed it very much.”

  “Good.” He squeezed her tight, and her ribs groaned in protest.

  “Bjorn,” Rhiannon squeaked. “I can’t breathe.”

  “Sorry.” The pressure eased instantly, but he didn’t release her, instead curling his body tightly behind her.

  She reveled in the simple pleasure of being held, sharing the warmth and closeness of another human being. If anyone had said she could be so relaxed and languid in the arms of a man, she would have told them they were mad. She lazed next to him, her gaze landing on her sword laid beside her, and she froze when a horrifying thought crossed her mind.

  “I won’t put up my sword,” she spat out abruptly, rolling onto her side to face him.

  His brows rose, and his gaze raked down the length of her body pressed tightly against his, no doubt taking in her combative stance. She braced herself, prepared to fight the point.

  “I don’t expect you to.” His response took the wind out of her sails, and he guided her head back to his shoulder. “If you wish, you can come trading with me in the summer.”

  Rhiannon’s breath hitched, and in her mad scramble to push up, she dug her elbow into his belly. Bjorn choked, his body folding in the middle.

  “You’d take me with you?” Rhiannon shimmered with excitement. The world opened up to her with endless possibilities. Just think of the places waiting to be explored.