Ragnar - Lord of Jaegar

by Sasha Gold

  “Where were you?” I ask.

  “I rode out to find a spot where my phone would work. I called Atkinson and Wainwright.”

  My breath catches. “And?”

  “Harvey didn’t seem to remember you.”

  My mouth drops open because I don’t even know what to say to that.

  He crooks his finger. “Come with me.”

  His words fill me with concern. He wears the ring. If he so much as lays a hand on me, I’ll be powerless to stop him. I want his touch so badly that my desire frightens me.

  “No!” Ben pleads and points a small trowel at me. “Help me build my castle, Becca. Please, don’t go!”

  I smile at Will, who responds with a scowl. Whatever plan he had in mind has been thwarted by this small boy. Mrs. Gustafson snickers and coughs to hide her amusement.

  For the next hour or so, I help Ben with his sand castle. My chinos are damp on the knees from kneeling in the sand. Will remains for a time but leaves us, giving me a pointed, we’re-not-done look before heading off to some task in the barn.

  Ben is sweet, prattling on about castles and sand and bad guys and knights. We build the castle higher and higher and Mrs. Gustafson looks up from her book every so often and murmurs a few words of praise.

  I’m astonished at how long Ben can work on a single project. He fills his little cups, packs the sand down and upturns the buckets over and over to form small holding walls or ramparts or any other aspect of the castle.

  The sun settles toward the west. Margie calls from the house, telling us dinner’s ready. When Ben, Mrs. Gustafson and I get inside, Margie tells us that Will wants Ben to eat in the dining room this evening. Why he hasn’t eaten with us yet, I’m not sure. I have the impression Will has been trying to keep us apart, or maybe Ben doesn’t do well in formal settings.

  But the dinner hour passes easily enough. Ben is darling, bubbly and full of questions. He seems to think that my relationship with Will is established, a done deal. After dessert of banana pudding, he hugs Will good night and hugs me too. Ben’s so sweet, I’m sure that I’m smiling the whole time.

  Will and I linger at the table for a long while, talking about everything except the elephant in the room. He’s charming and sweet, making no mention of any of the thorny issues that lie between us.

  “I’m going to take a bath and go to bed,” I tell him as the hour grows late.

  “I’ll be by to talk to you after your bath. In private. I’m going to give you your ring back.”

  The look on his face tells me that getting my ring back is going to cost me. “And what else?”

  “I’m going to show you that you were meant for me and me for you.”

  I can tell from the sultry look in his eye that he’s got something carnal planned. I should protest, but desire races through my body. For the first time in my life I can imagine giving myself to a man. Completely.

  “Where?” I ask softly.

  “In your room, of course. Unless you’d like to come to my room.”

  A thrill shoots through me. I haven’t seen his room and suddenly I’m overcome with the desire to go there. The invitation is for a talk, but I hear the promise in his voice. I’m so far gone from the person I was when I first arrived, I don’t even recognize myself anymore.

  “All right, Will. I’ll come to your room.”

  He pushes a piece of paper across the linen tablecloth. It’s a marriage license. When he sets a pen beside it, my heart clenches.

  “Sign it.”

  “It’s not valid without an officiant and two witnesses.”

  “It’s valid if I say it is.”

  Of course, it is. He’s a billionaire and can get around laws and protocols. In the Wainwright and Atkinson offices, I saw this sort of thing every day, wealth can bypass nearly any obstacle.

  I’m shocked he still wants me. I know he wants me physically but this is different. “Shouldn’t I sign a prenuptial agreement?”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t want a prenuptial.”

  I’m sure he’s joking but the hard look in his eye tells me otherwise.

  “I want you to quit your job.”

  “I work for Wainwright and Atkinson. I know you don’t believe me, but I swear it’s true. They sent me out to set up the nonprofit for your mustangs.”

  I can barely breathe as I watch him. His brows lift.

  “The mustangs?”

  “Yes.”

  His expression softens and his lips lift in a smile. “You’re too young to be an accountant.”

  I take the pen and sign the license. “That’s because I’m not an accountant yet.” I push the license and the pen toward him. “So don’t think you can get free advice on taxes.”

  His smile broadens. “You think that’s what I want in a wife?”

  “All I know is that I can’t imagine you want me.”

  “I do, Rebecca. And when we’re married, I’ll take care of everything. Say the word and it’s yours.”

  “I’m afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  “That I won’t please you.”

  “You can start by coming to my room. I’ll show you how much you please me.”

  Chapter Ten

  Will

  How long does it take a woman to bathe and prepare for bed? I pace my room. Irritated that it’s taking so long, but elated that she’s agreed to come. The lights flicker. A distant rumbling of thunder draws me to the window. Lightning flashes on the horizon. Ben hates thunderstorms. Now I have to worry if he’ll be here in a few minutes, banging on my door.

  When his parents passed and he first came to live with me, he used to wake up yelling, terrified. I remember waking up to the bloodcurdling, panicked cries. That must be why I started getting grey hair around my temples. Mrs. Gustafson says Ben used to wake up, screaming like a banshee with a toothache.

  I want Ben to know I’ll always be there for him, but tonight I hope the storm passes or if it hits that he’ll sleep right through it.

  There’s a quiet knock at the door. I open it to find Rebecca standing in the dark hallway. Wrapping my arm around her slim waist, I pull her against me, lift her from her feet and kiss her. She laughs into the kiss. She knows she’s in trouble with me for taking off her ring. I don’t care if she was doing a good deed, building a sand castle with Ben. I love that she stopped to play with him, but I really fucking love that she messed up and now she’s going to have to pay the penalty.

  I walk her to my bed and without breaking the kiss, I lay her back, settling beside her. My body is iron-hard, every bit of self-restraint slipping away. She says she can’t climax? I’m about to show her how she was made for pleasure, and I’m the man to give it to her. Her kiss is sweet, sultry, and she submits beautifully to me. When I stroke her lips with the tip of my tongue, she parts them and moans softly.

  A noise breaks the spell. Ben stands in in doorway, a teddy bear tucked under one arm. “Ew. Are you two kissing?”

  A crash of thunder shakes the house, but Ben doesn’t even flinch. For the first time in his life, he’s encountered something more disturbing than thunderstorms.

  Kissing.

  I’ve always been affectionate with him. From the first day that he came to live with me, I’ve hugged him, told him I loved him, but I haven’t brought women home, so this must be new territory for him. He stares in disbelief.

  He comes to the side of the bed. Neither Rebecca nor I move. She’s waiting for me to say something and I’m trying to figure out how to explain why I’m crouched over her like some sort of primitive barbarian. I’m glad I hadn’t ripped her gown from her body. That might have been a little difficult to brush off.

  “I’m kissing Rebecca.” When in doubt, state the obvious.

  He grimaces. “Why?”

  “Because I love her.”

  “Yuck. Is that what people do when they get married? Kiss?”

  “Yeah, lots of kissing.”

  He shivers with clear revulsi
on, and circles the bed to the opposite side. “Can I sleep with you and Becca?”

  I’m about to say no, because I never let him sleep in my room. I’ve checked on him at night plenty of times and I can pretty much guess that sleeping with him would be like sleeping next to a pony. Ben thrashes around in his sleep. Kicks. Grumbles.

  Before I can remind him of his big boy bed and how he doesn’t sleep in my room, Rebecca scoots away from me and tugs the covers back.

  “Get in bed. I’ll tell you a story.”

  Ben smiles at me, practically gloating as he settles on the far side of the bed. I’m so surprised, I don’t even have the words to protest. Rebecca launches into a bedtime story about Jack and the Beanstalk, but she swaps Jack’s name for Ben’s. This elicits giggles from Ben.

  I fall back to the pillow and stifle a growl. Scrubbing a hand down my face, I remind myself that I wanted a woman who at least tolerated Ben. I draw a deep, irritated sigh. The storm unleashes its fury over the house. Rain lashes the windows while Rebecca tells her tale. At first Ben stops to ask a question here or there, but as the story comes to an end, he’s quiet. I sit up and see that he’s fallen asleep.

  Rebecca looks up at me, bites her lip nervously and gives me a tentative smile.

  I clasp her arm and rub my thumb over her silken skin. “The storm’s passing. Come with me.”

  We leave my room, shutting the door behind us and I lead her back to her room. Her steps falter. She’s nervous. All I can think about is how Rebecca arrived just a few days ago, but already she’s mine. We haven’t made love. We haven’t done plenty of things, but we’re bound to each other. We’re one. I’m certain. I was certain the moment our eyes locked.

  I just need to convince Rebecca.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rebecca

  My room is dark and quiet. We left Ben fast asleep and I doubt much would wake him, but Will locks the door anyway. After he leads me to the bed, he tugs my gown off. Since I’ve come to his home, I’ve slept in a moonlit room each evening. Not tonight. I’m grateful for the storm clouds that darken the sky and everything beneath.

  Will’s brushes his hands over my body, making me shiver.

  “Cold?”

  “No. I’m not cold. I’m a little nervous. That’s all.”

  He pushes me back on the bed. The darkness disorients me, but I sense him over me and then his lips brush mine. Will’s so big and immensely powerful, but the kiss is the merest wisp of a touch. The only point of contact between us. I almost think he’s teasing me. I wrap my arms around his neck and tug him closer.

  “I want you, Will.”

  A rumble of laughter moves through him and he deepens the kiss, stroking me with his tongue, his hand cupping my breast. He rubs my breast slowly, almost lazily and now I’m certain he’s teasing me. Desire twists inside. I’m writhing beneath him.

  He breaks the kiss and moves over my breast, kissing me there, sucking my tight nipple between his lips. I thread my fingers through his hair, clutch him to my breast. I can hardly understand what’s happening but I don’t want him to ever stop.

  His hands run down the curve of my waist and lower to my hips as he scatters kisses downward. I’m undone. Barely breathing as I anticipate the wicked plans he has for me. When he nudges my thighs apart, I whimper. His mouth brushes over me and a low, primitive growl rips from his chest.

  The vibrations travel across my core and I’m swept into a torrent. Pleasure robs me of any control. I writhe beneath him as he slowly strokes me with his tongue. He takes his time, teasing me with slow and deliberate movements.

  “You’re perfect, Rebecca.”

  I’m not sure what to say, but it doesn’t matter, because I don’t think I can respond. He grips me in his strong hands, holding me right where he wants me. I’m captive. Pleasure races and coils inside me. I’m pinned to the bed and can’t escape his torment. I arch beneath him, seeking more of his touch.

  “Please,” I beg.

  He’s always so sweet to me. Kind. Generous. But the soft chuckle that comes from him is anything but his usual tender response. He lifts his head and kisses the inside of my thigh.

  “Rebecca, bad girl. I’m punishing you for telling me you couldn’t come.”

  I shake my head and whimper with need.

  He groans. “I’m suffering more than you.”

  “Please, Will. Make me come. I’ll do anything.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  He lowers again and this time he gives me more. I’m undone, slowly, but steadily. Each lash of his tongue unravels me more. I shudder. Plead. My words fall from my lips without thought and probably without meaning. Just frantic pleas for more of him.

  When he sucks my clit, and strokes my entrance with his finger, I shatter beneath him. Wild sounds tear from my lips as my back bows off the bed. He gathers me into his arms, pulls me against his chest and I melt in his embrace.

  He kisses me. “Taste yourself, Rebecca.”

  His voice is rough, as he kisses me hungrily.

  “That’s the taste of you. Coming. On my tongue.”

  “That’s so…”

  He laughs and settles over me. “Dirty?”

  “Yes. Dirty. I want you.”

  Nudging my thighs apart, he presses against my slick core. He’s barely inside of me and already it feels like he can’t possibly fit. I draw a sharp breath.

  “It’s okay,” he soothes. “We’ll go slow.”

  I relax as he kisses me tenderly. With each kiss, he takes me a little deeper. A sharp pain makes me cry out, but in the next instant, the discomfort fades. Every muscle in his body tenses. He’s steel. I can tell he’s holding back, trying to ease me into this new and wonderful moment.

  Without any real awareness, I open beneath him and meet his strokes.

  He groans, whispering tender words. “So beautiful.”

  “Will…”

  Stopping immediately, he lifts and cups my face. “I’m hurting you?”

  “Not anymore.”

  He grips my hip, deepening his thrusts. “Becca, you’re so tight.”

  I lift my knees and clasp his hips, drawing a primitive growl from his lips. My body responds to him without my thought or direction. It’s like we’re one. I run my fingers over the broad expanse of his powerful shoulders. He shudders. Each stroke makes my body tighten until I’m writhing beneath him. My cries are as wild and untamed as his, until I fall apart, gasping his name. An instant later, he follows me, snarling his release.

  He rolls over, taking me with him in his strong embrace and we both try to catch our breath. I’ve never felt anything like this before. I never thought I would experience an orgasm. I was sure something was wrong with me. I feel like a ragdoll, draped over him as he strokes my back.

  “You made me come.” I’m practically slurring my words. I’m so worn out, I feel like I could pass out.

  The last thing I remember is him chuckling and telling me, “Twice, Mrs. Branson. I made you come two times.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Will

  I wake just before dawn, and even before I open my eyes, I’m smiling. Rebecca sleeps next to me, her head resting on my shoulder, her body tucked next to mine. She fits perfectly. I knew she would. Her breath is soft. A lock of her hair lays across my chest.

  Quiet fills the house and outside, nothing stirs. I wind the lock of hair around my finger and revel in the way she feels beside me. I inhale her scent, fighting the urge to wake her. I can see the horizon through the window and watch the band of crimson spread across the eastern hills.

  “Mr. Branson,” she murmurs.

  During the night, she’d woken me twice with her soft sleepy words and both times, she’d made my cock, already erect, harden even more. I’d let her sleep, but this time I can’t hold back.

  “Yes, Mrs. Branson,” I whisper as I roll her to her back. I kiss her neck and shoulder.

  She laughs, a soft, sleepy laugh.

 
; “Something I can do for you?”

  I settle between her silken thighs and give into my primitive need to fuck this woman. I’m a beast, taking her while she’s not even awake, but as I sink into her tight body, she responds with a soft shudder and a whispered word of pleasure.

  “Yes,” she says, softly.

  “This is how I want to wake up every morning.”

  Her smile transforms her face and I roll to my back, bringing her with me. She straddles me. Fuck, I’m in heaven. The expression on her face only makes it better. Her eyes are wide and her lips part to draw a surprised gasp.

  “You wanted a riding lesson, didn’t you?”

  “I did want a riding lesson, but…”

  Her words trail off as I move her along my shaft. Closing her eyes, she whispers my name. The way she says my name is the single most erotic thing I’ve ever heard. She lifts and sets her hands on my shoulders, her expression full of wonder and desire. Her eyelids flutter and she gazes down at me, her eyes lit with sweet yearning.

  “Touch your breasts, Becca.”

  She blinks a few times and slowly raises her hands. Her tits are gorgeous. This is the first time I’ve seen them. Last night it was too dark. Now I can’t decide what I want to stare at more, her beautiful face or her perfect breasts.

  A smile curves her lips as she cups her breasts.

  “Good girl.” I manage the words from between gritted teeth, because she’s shredding my self-control. I thought I was in charge, but now I’m not so sure.

  “How am I doing?” she whispers.

  “What?”

  She strokes her breasts, running her fingertips over her taut nipples. “My first riding lesson. Am I doing it right?”

  “Perfect.”

  I grip her hips a little harder and move her faster. Small sounds come from her lips as she writhes, impaled on my cock. I thought having her ride me would be easier on her. Last night probably left her sore, but if she’s hurting, she gives no sign. She loves everything I give her and it’s not long before she breaks apart, crying out my name. I come with her, an orgasm that electrifies my entire body and sends me somewhere I’ve never been. As she sinks into my arms, she trembles and tells me she’s always loved me.