Viking in Love

by Sandra Hill

  How? she wondered. My body seems to have a mind of its own.

  He resumed kissing her then, but his lewd fingers had moved downward to her private parts, touching her with an intimacy she had never engaged in, not even imagined. She tried to back off, but he held her tight with the other hand at her back.

  “You are wet for me,” he announced as if it was some great triumph for him and not an embarrassment to her.

  Did I piss myself? “Oh, good heavens! I am sorry,” she murmured, mortified. “I am leaking.”

  He chuckled. “Do not be sorry. ’Tis your woman dew. Your body is readying itself for me.”

  Oh. But then she could think no more as his fingers explored her swollen nether lips and a raised bud of intense sensation she had not realized was there. He even put a long finger inside her.

  The throbbing was tortuous now with her hips jerking spasmodically. It felt as if dozens of butterflies with cobweb-thin wings were fluttering deep in her belly. She would die if something did not happen soon.

  “Look at me, Breanne. Nay, do not look away. I want to see your eyes when you peak.”

  “Peek at what?”

  He laughed. “Your peaking. Your summit of pleasure. Now look at me and do as I say. That is it, tip backwards a bit, and hold onto my thighs. Do not let go.”

  He stuck his middle finger inside her grasping inner sheath, and used the middle finger of the other hand to vibrate back and forth across the distended nub.

  Immediately the tension rose high and higher and higher still. Her lower body lost all control as she rode his finger. And then…and then it was as if she had reached the peak and fell over, shattering into a million fluttering spasms.

  Her forehead was resting on his shoulder when she regained her senses. Slowly she felt him remove the finger and caress her back, spreading her wetness. So aroused was she still that she could not even care about that ignominy.

  And he…the rogue…was whispering wicked things in her ear. Praise for all she had done so far. Promises of lewd things he intended to do to her yet.

  What was it Rashid was wont to say: When a rogue kisses you, count your teeth.

  Hah! With this rogue, she should count her teeth, her fingers, her toes, everything she had…and most of all, her too-vulnerable heart.

  You want to put that WHERE?…

  Caedmon lifted the bedazed woman off his lap and tossed her onto the bed, immediately crawling over her. He was a lost man. Lost, lost, lost!

  She blinked, then stared up at him through eyes like shards of green glass. Apparently, she was as flummoxed as he by what had just happened. By the rood! Her receptiveness to his touch both excited him and made him wary. He could easily be smitten by this tempting witch if he was not careful.

  He had gone too far.

  She had gone too far.

  In truth, Caedmon had intended to make bold with her, mayhap avail himself of some of her charms, just give her a lesson she would not soon forget in trying his temper. She needed bending to a man’s will…his will. But his brutish urges had taken over once she removed her garments, and now he must needs slake his lust.

  “Dost want me to continue, Breanne?” he asked in a raw voice as he kneeled betwixt her widespread legs and unlaced his braies, shrugging them off his painfully hard cock.

  Her eyes went wide and her gaze was riveted on his erection, which of course took that as a cue to thicken even more. His enthusiasm for the bedsport was approaching embarrassment. If he was not careful, he would spill his seed like an untried boyling.

  “Continue what?” she asked.

  He forgot the question, for a moment, as he noticed the moisture glistening on her red fleece. “With our love play,” he rasped out.

  She glanced once again to his raging cock. “Dost plan to put that inside me?”

  He laughed, painfully. “Yea, I do.”

  “Are you not embarrassed by it?”

  He frowned. “Why should I be?”

  “I cannot imagine the discomfort of walking around with your dangly part leading the way.”

  “Breanne! I do not walk around like this.” Leastways, not all the time…though, a great deal since you arrived, witch.

  “Can I touch it?” she asked as she half-sat up.

  Good Lord! She will be the death of me yet. But what a sweet way to die! “If you must.” He guided her hand down to enfold him.

  But contrary as usual, she unfolded her hand, and instead ran her fingertips along the length, causing his blood to thicken and his heart to race. Every nerve in his oversensitized body was dancing, especially between his legs.

  “It feels like marble, smooth and oddly hard. Why is it red on the end? Why are those veins sticking out? Does it hurt?”

  Too many questions for him to answer without babbling. The feel of her fingertips wrapping about him nigh unmanned him, but then she squeezed, too hard, and he began to lose control. Prying her fingers off, he showed her how to pleasure him, and she did, intrigued by his reaction. Because her hands were rough from all her woodworking, it created the most incredible friction, like nothing he had experienced before.

  “Too much too soon,” he told her.

  Did that stop the wench?

  Nay.

  She lifted his cock and stared at his ballocks, as if she had just unearthed some secret. “Eeew, it is hairy. Like peach fuzz.”

  Would you like a taste? Oh, that was crude, even for me. I will scare her off afore we begin. He held back a laugh, then took her hands in his, raising them above her head with her reclining again. “Now is the time to say yea or nay, sweetling. Beyond this point, I will not…cannot…stop.”

  “Was I wanton when I…you know? Would I be wanton if I continued?”

  Definitely. “Does it matter?”

  “Not much.”

  He had to grin at that. God love a wanton woman! “Actually, Breanne, there is naught that a man, even a husband, cherishes more than a good woman who can be bad in bed.”

  “You jest.”

  He shook his head. “I do not. If you must know, Breanne, I want you to be uninhibited with me.”

  “I would not know how.”

  “I will teach you.” Said the spider to the ant. “So, yea or nay?”

  “You would let me renege on our bargain? You would be satisfied without actual fornication?”

  “I would not be satisfied, but…” He shrugged. Do not overplay the meekness game, Caedmon.

  “Would you take back protection of my sisters?”

  Probably not. “Probably.”

  She seemed to consider his words. She was no doubt trying to figure a diplomatic way of saying she did not want him, but then she surprised him, good and well. “That thing that happened to me afore…the peaking…will it happen again?”

  “I guarantee it will.” Well, practically guarantee. “Hopefully, more than once.”

  “Go ahead, then. Do it.”

  Was there e’er a more romantic prelude to lovemaking? As if I care! I am about to have my wicked way with the wicked witch of the north.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  It was a hairy situation…

  Breanne’s entire body was humming. Truly, it was amazing, as if every portion of her skin, all the nooks and crannies, was being alerted to something stupendous about to happen.

  Caedmon lowered himself to lie atop her.

  Oh. My. Gods! She gasped at the feel of his chest hairs against her breasts.

  He raised himself slightly, and, as if he could read her mind, moved his chest from side to side so the coarse hairs could abrade her already erect nipples. She closed her eyes and saw bright lights behind the lids, so intense was the pleasure. Do it again. Do it again. Do it again.

  “Do you like that, dearling?” he whispered. When she did not…could not…answer, he urged, “Open your eyes, Breanne, and tell me.”

  I like it overmuch. “I suppose it is all right.” Do it again.

  He nipped her chin with his teeth,
not convinced, but lout that he was, he stopped the chest caresses. Instead, he began to kiss her again, another form of sweet torment.

  Unlike the earlier hungry kisses, these were gentle and slow and slumberous, as if he had all the time in the world. Taking him by the ears, she lifted his head. “Not like that.” Do the other thing with your chest hairs.

  A laugh rumbled up from deep in his throat. “Now you are an expert on kissing?”

  “I know what I like.” Chest hairs.

  “You do not like soft, coaxing kisses?”

  “Bloody hell, man! I am already coaxed. Move on to something more…more…”

  “Vigorous?”

  Exactly. “If you insist.”

  He was smiling down at her, and, oh, the lout had a smile that would tempt a saint. “Like this?” He traced the outline of her lips with his tongue and murmured, “Didst know you have a siren mouth?”

  “I beg your pardon!” She was trying her best to be a compliant sex partner, and he insulted her!

  “That was a compliment. I meant that your mouth is lush and so kissome, it draws a man, like a siren. It gives men ideas.”

  “Seems to me you have ideas enough,” she huffed out. If you do not give me a chest-hair caress again, and soon, I am going to wallop you over your fool head.

  He rubbed the wetness on her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. She tried to nip at it, but he pulled away just in time, his eyes crinkling with humor. When their mouths melded now, he pushed his tongue into her mouth, slowly, buried deep, then slid back out. In. Then out. In. Then out. Breanne was not too clear on the details of swiving, but she was fairly certain this rhythm matched what he would be doing to her below. All right, then. Mayhap I could give up the chest-hair caressing for tongue caressing.

  Next time he thrust into her mouth, she sucked on his tongue, causing his body to jerk. But then she felt him smile against her mouth; so, she assumed she had done the right thing. Thus encouraged, she sucked some more, then tentatively tried dipping her tongue into his mouth.

  He groaned.

  Breanne was mentally congratulating herself as she came to understand that groans were good in bedplay. She vowed then to make the knave do a lot of groaning before the night was over.

  Now, while his kiss turned lustsome, his hands were busy on other parts of her body. Her aching breasts, her buttocks, the backs of her knees. By the gods! Who knew the backs of my knees could be so sensitive to touch? Suddenly, he raised his head and said, with chagrin, “Breanne! Your eyes are open. Why?”

  She liked the way his lips were a bit puffy from her kisses and his breathing was ragged. ’Twas a heady feeling, knowing she could do this to him. “I am trying to concentrate.”

  “On what, pray tell?”

  “Everything. You are doing so many things at once. Can you not finish one task at a time?”

  “Task?” The grinning lackwit was having great fun at her expense.

  “Besides, how will I know what you are doing if I cannot see?”

  “Just close your eyes, sweetling, and I will tell you when there is something good to see.”

  She succumbed to the forceful domination of his kisses then and only closed her eyes when he moved down her body and began to suckle at her breasts. Turns out that big breasts were not a necessity for lovemaking. Turns out big nipples were good for something.

  Ribbons of heat unfurled in her as he brought her to another of those peaking things, just by fondling her breasts and dipping his talented fingers into her woman folds. She had scarce caught her breath when he whispered, “Now you can look.”

  With arms levered on either side of her head, he was positioned betwixt her thighs, his phallus at her woman’s portal. “Are you ready?”

  “How would I know?” she snapped.

  Slowly he pushed himself inside her, only a little, then pulled out. Then, in a little more, then out again.

  “You are so tight,” he grunted out. “So wonderfully tight.”

  She could tell when he hit her maidenhead, but it only pinched a bit, and the pain was soon gone, replaced by the most amazing fullness. Sweat beading his forehead, he rocked in and out of her until finally he was buried to the hilt. He rested then, forehead to forehead, and asked, “Have I hurt you?”

  “Just a little. Do not stop.”

  He grinned. “Not a chance.”

  While he rested inside her, her inner muscles stretched and shifted to accommodate his size.

  “You feel like a hot velvet sheath,” he whispered. “Oh. My. God! Keep welcoming me like that.”

  She had no idea she had been doing any welcoming. “It feels as if my womanparts are weeping around your hardness.”

  “Your woman dew,” he explained. “Like warm honey, it is.”

  “Are we done fornicating?” If so, I liked the chest-hair caresses better.

  He laughed heartily, and she felt the ripples of his humor inside, along her inner…yea, I notice now…clasping folds.

  He began to move then, long tortuous strokes, so slow she wanted to hit him, so delicious she wanted to bite his shoulder to hold back a scream of ecstacy. When he alternated with hard, shorter pummels, he actually lifted her body, so strong were the thrusts. By now she was mindless and writhing in tortuous pleasure.

  And then he stopped.

  He bloody hell stopped.

  It took her a moment to see through the haze of arousal. He was clearly as aroused as she was, if not more, but he was fighting it.

  “What?” she whimpered. If this is all, I am going to be very, very disappointed.

  With a grim smile, he rolled over, his manpart still inside her, taking her with him. Now she lay atop him. Gently, he took her by the shoulders, pressing until she sat up, astride him.

  For a second, he closed his eyes and hissed through gritted teeth. She had that effect on him, she realized with glee, and swung her hips from side to side to test her powers.

  “Witch!” he said, putting his hands on her waist to hold her in place. Then he said, “Your turn.”

  At first, she was confused. She had no clue what to do. But then she realized what a position she was in, and she did the only thing she could.

  She leaned forward and rubbed her breasts back and forth across his bristly chest hairs.

  Off to the races…

  Caedmon had always prided himself on his stamina in the bedsport, but this was ridiculous. If he did not peak soon, he was going to set some kind of record for male virility.

  He had to smile at that notion.

  But then he could not smile anymore.

  Breanne sat atop his belly like a bloody queen. Due to the heat and their exertions, her red hair had turned curly, with wild waves framing her face and falling on her shoulders and back. Her lips were reddened and swollen more than usual. Her raspberry nipples pointed at him like fingers of accusation.

  Flipping her hair back, she leaned forward and brushed her breasts over and over, side to side, over him. The nipples kept snagging in his chest hairs.

  Gaaaaaaaaa!

  “Does that feel as good to you as it does to me?” She slanted him a sultry look.

  Gaaaaaaaaa! “You know very well it does. Every time you move, my cock smiles inside you.”

  “A smiling cock?” She arched her brows provocatively.

  What kind of monster have I created here?

  Nay, not a monster: a goddess of sex.

  “Why are you grinning like the cat who swallowed all the cream?” said Caedmon.

  “Because I feel like the cat who swallowed all the cream.”

  He cupped her small breasts from underneath and lifted them. If I am to die from overstimulation, this will surely be the way to go.

  She looked down and inhaled sharply.

  He gloried in the fact that she was so responsive. He had not expected this bounty. “Do you ride, Breanne?”

  “Of course I ride.” She frowned. “What an odd question to ask at a time like this.”

/>   “Not so odd.” Come closer, little ant. Lord Spider has something to show you.

  “How could you think of horses when…oh, my!”

  He had lifted her by the hips until she almost escaped his impalement, then down. Up. Down. Her jaw was gaping open with wonder.

  Making women gape in bed was his second-best talent. Next to…“Not horses, dearling. Men. This man, in particular. Dost think you could ride me?”

  She still knelt astride him, unmoving once again, her rump raised slightly. He put one hand to the back of her waist, and used the other hand to strum the pearl of her arousal, which he could see peeking through her nether hair. Like a pink jewel amongst red fleece.

  She gaped some more before bursting forth with laughter. A joyous tingling sound.

  Then she challenged him.

  “Canter or gallop, m’lord?”

  Lout sex, oh, yeah!…

  Breanne was stunned.

  Well, that was an understatement. But, really, she was going to have words with Tyra next time she saw her. How could her sister have kept this information from her? Why had she never mentioned that sex could be so…so exciting? Aside from the bone-melting excitement, it had been satisfying physically, and it had been fun.

  If sex with a lout could be so amazing, she could only imagine what it would be like with a man she loved. Truly, Breanne’s perceptions of men and women, marriage, and relationships were undergoing a change. She would need to rethink all her old ideas.

  Glancing to her side where the lout was asleep, splayed out on his back, she had to smile that she had depleted him so.

  From his finely sculpted face, over broad shoulders and wide chest, narrow waist and hips, muscular thighs and calves, and, yea, the now limp manpart, she had to admit he was an attractive man. And what he had been able to do with that body was commendable.

  Now, however, she was not sure what women did in situations such as this. Was she supposed to just lie here until he awakened and had need of her again? Hah! Not bloody likely.

  Easing her hair out from under one of his arms, she slid across the mattress, when a hand shot out and grabbed her by the wrist. “Where do you think you are going?”