Wildest Dreams f-1

by Kristen Ashley

  He grinned, it was a good one, I had rarely seen him do that, in fact, I wasn’t certain I had ever seen him out and out grin, it wasn’t lost on me that it looked good on him but I was still too pissed to care before he said, “It would seem, Finnie, you have no problems with ‘ums’ and ‘uhs’ when you’re vexed.”

  “Yes, it would seem that way,” I agreed then asked, “Do you want pie?”

  “Yes, I do but not now. Now, I want you to calm yourself and then I’d like to listen to what you had to say.”

  I glared at him. Then I guessed, “You’re not going to let me get up until you hear what I had to say, are you?”

  Another grin. It was again good. It was again not lost on me. And I was still too pissed to care.

  “No, I’m not,” he confirmed my guess was accurate.

  “Fine,” I snapped, shifting my booty to settle in his lap and crossing my arms on my chest, I looked right into his green-brown eyes and stated, “Waking up this morning, I liked you. To be totally honest, I liked you last night, not when you were being a jerk at the pub but when you came home and you were being kinda sweet. I liked you more when I woke up and you’d proved you could be thoughtful. And I liked you more throughout the day because, well, you aren’t exactly Mr. Conversation but at least we could have conversations without you freaking me out or pissing me off which I thought was a plus considering we are married and having conversations that don’t freak me out or piss me off for decades upon decades would not be a good thing. You also demonstrated you could be sweet again in town and it must be said I’m glad you carried in logs because that isn’t what I call fun and it’s nice to share the load. With all that and the way you kissed me after we got married, which I liked, a whole lot, and the way you were at the market today, I was thinking maybe tonight might be good. And I was thinking that I wanted to talk to you about that and how, maybe, if I kept liking you and maybe started liking you more and if I really liked tonight, it might be nice if we had that for awhile, just the two of us and ask if you’d help me with that. But now I’ve changed my mind. I don’t like you because you have again been a jerk, I’m reneging on the deal and there won’t be a tonight. You’ll get pie, I’ll do the dishes and if you won’t let me have the bed then I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  He had no reply, he just stared at me.

  So I concluded, “So that’s it. That was what I was going to say. I’ve said it. Now will you let me up?”

  “No,” he replied and I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and muttered, “Great.”

  “Finnie,” he called and I rolled my eyes back to him and glared. He pressed his lips together and I’d never seen him do that so I didn’t know what that meant but I didn’t care about that either.

  Then he spoke again.

  “You enjoyed my kiss at the Dwelling of the Gods?”

  “Uh… yeah,” I said like I’d say, “uh… duh”. “Frey, I’d wrapped my arms around you. You’re a jerk but you can kiss.”

  Another lip press and then, “Explain what you mean about me helping you with us having what we have tonight just the two of us for awhile. It is my understanding, unless you are unusually broad-minded, what I have planned for tonight is always just the two of us.”

  Yeesh. Men. Their minds, no matter what world they live in, always wandered down the same paths.

  “I’m not talking about a threesome, Frey, I’m talking about children. As in, I don’t know you but I was thinking that I was really liking getting to know you and that when that extra component was added, you were giving all the signs I would really like that too. So, I thought, if I did really like all of that, I’d like to have all of that with you for awhile, just the two of us before we start thinking of daughters and sons and who’s going to teach who swordplay and all that jazz.”

  I felt the pads of his fingers dig into my hip and noticed his eyes had gone weird but I didn’t pay much attention to that either.

  Then he asked, “You wish to delay providing your father with an heir?”

  “Not forever. Not even for very long. A few months, enough time I could learn about you, you could learn about me, we could learn about… uh… how we are together and maybe I could ride on your ship.”

  Another slow blink then, “Ride on my ship?”

  “Or, take a trip on it or whatever you call it. I mean, you know, go voyaging with you. That might not be so much fun pregnant and if I have a kid, I’d have to stay home while off you go on your adventures and that would suck. I was thinking maybe we can squeeze in an adventure or two and then we can have sons and daughters and provide heirs to the kingdom and all that stuff. It’s not like I’ll be this age forever and it won’t be as much fun when I’m old and decrepit and struggling along with my cane only to slip on a deck one of your men are swabbing and break a hip.”

  He did yet another slow blink.

  Then he threw back his head and burst out laughing.

  I stared because, first, I didn’t know the man could laugh. Second, I was staring at his throat which I’d already noted was a nice view. And third, he had a great laugh.

  I, however, did not laugh with him. I was still too pissed.

  He eventually stopped laughing (though, I will note, he took his sweet time doing it) and returned his attention to me.

  And when he did, his eyes roamed my face before he said quietly, “When my wife gets vexed, her cheeks get pink.”

  I fought the urge to struggle out of his lap and the urge to cover my cheeks. Instead, I simply continued to glare.

  “I like it,” he went on talking quietly.

  “Can I get up now?” I asked snappishly.

  He didn’t answer nor did he let me up. Instead he remarked, still quietly, “I’m intrigued about these wedding undergarments I missed.”

  “Sorry, Frey, that was a onetime deal. I was all decked out in my wedding finery and you took off. You missed that boat, totally.”

  He grinned again then whispered, “More fool me.”

  “Uh… hello?” I called then requested, “Can I get up now?”

  One of his big hands drifted up my back and he said softly, “I must tell you, Finnie, I like you here. You fit well in my lap.”

  Uh-oh.

  “Does it matter that I don’t like being here?” I asked.

  “Indeed it does, wife, let’s get you somewhere where you’re more comfortable. I’m thinking the loft.”

  Uh-oh again.

  “Frey, I think I told you, the deal is off.”

  He grinned and shook his head. “You know, my Winter Princess, you never renege on a deal with a Raider.”

  I blinked.

  Oh shit. I’d read that in both of those books. You made a deal with a Raider, you went back on it, you regretted it.

  Big time.

  Shit!

  His hand was now wrapped around the back of my neck and he held me still while he leaned into me.

  Once there and he had captured my gaze, he said quietly, “You have ten minutes to prepare yourself and meet me up there. We will see how it goes as to whether we guard against conceiving or, perhaps, forget.”

  Ho boy. I knew what that meant because I figured that meant the same thing on both worlds.

  “You haven’t had pie,” I pointed out in an attempt to stall.

  “We’ll have it later…” he paused and grinned. “Maybe. We might be too busy; we might need sustenance to keep going.”

  Ho boy!

  “Frey –” I whispered.

  He cut me off. “You now have nine minutes, Finnie.”

  Shit! Shit! Shit!

  “That wasn’t a minute,” I argued.

  He pressed his lips together but I knew what it meant this time because his eyes were so close, I saw them dancing.

  Then he warned softly and effectively with one word, “Finnie.”

  I stared into his eyes.

  Then I saw there a clear indication that there was no way I could delay.

  This was happenin
g and it was my choice whether it happened in the loft or on the farm table. Since that was my only choice, I definitely needed the loft.

  So that was why I muttered, “Oh, all right.”

  That got me another grin. It also loosened his arms. And this meant I scrambled off his lap and hurried out of the room trying not to look like I was hurrying. I hit the trunks, found what I was looking for and went to the bathroom space not bothering with the lock on the door because he could easily break it down if he had a mind to.

  Only then did I start hyperventilating.

  Chapter Eight

  Elves

  I stood in the bathroom space thinking that I really needed fifteen meals.

  Maybe twenty-one.

  Or, perhaps ninety.

  I was so not ready for this.

  And I had been in the bathroom way longer than nine minutes. I was pretty certain Frey was going to bust down the door any second.

  I totally shouldn’t have lost it at dinner and thus made Frey skip pie.

  I needed pie.

  I needed to think!

  How to get out of this?

  I stared at myself in the mirror.

  For reasons unknown to me, probably nervous energy, I had decided to arrange my hair loosely at the top of my head with one of the scads of ice blue ribbons that had been packed in my beautification trunk. I didn’t know what I was going for, sultry vixen or innocent virgin (probably the latter in hopes that Frey would take it slow and be gentle) and to get this to look even slightly good, it took what had to be nineteen minutes, not nine.

  I had also changed into the nightgown I was pretty sure Sjofn was supposed to wear on her wedding night. This was because you didn’t sleep in this nightie. This nightie was an occasion nightie, it was meant to be seen and it was way too delicate to sleep in.

  It was beautiful, elaborate winter white lace over ice blue satin. The thin straps were ice blue satin too. It had an empire waist and showed serious cleavage and leg. This last was because the skirt only fell low enough to cover my rear…barely. It was mostly simple but that made it elegant, the lace made it extraordinary and the ice blue satin made it beautiful (not to mention it felt great against my skin).

  But I thought, at that moment, it was too short, too suggestive and way too sexy.

  Not that I had to suggest anything and everything was sexy when you were essentially a sure thing.

  But it had been purchased for Frey. And for some crazy, stupid reason (even though he could be a very big jerk), when I’d been considering what would happen that night, I decided to wear it. And I did this because I thought even men should have what they looked forward to on their wedding nights. Like women, they only got one and it should be a good one.

  So he messed up his first shot. But before my nerves overwhelmed me, I felt some weird drive to give it to him just the same.

  And he sure wasn’t going to get anything like it when Sjofn came back.

  So I’d picked that nightgown.

  Shit.

  I stared at my reflection, my mind whirling.

  Then I realized I had no choice. I made the deal, I had to do it. I couldn’t go running into the night, Frey would find me and anyway, I’d freeze to death. I had to go to the loft and when I got there, maybe I could talk him into taking it slow, as in, making out tonight for awhile, getting the hang of each other and then seeing what tomorrow brings.

  I could do that, I could make out with him. I already knew he was a good kisser. That would be nice, hell, that would be great.

  Then my mind came back to reality with a, Fat chance of convincing him of that, Finnie.

  I stared at my face in the mirror.

  Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. That was what Dad (and a bunch of other people) always said.

  I blew out the candles in the bathroom space and walked out to the living room.

  All was dark except the fireplaces that had been fed and were blazing big and bright. The curtains had been pulled by me, way earlier, to shut out the draft after the sun went down. I’d learned that early, as in, after the first night I slept there when I woke up on the couch with a stiff neck.

  The curtain at the railing at the loft was mostly closed, light was coming through where it was opened at the end.

  By the ladder.

  Eek!

  I tried to remember if Penelope was in or out when I saw her rise to all fours where she was curled on one of the fluffy throws on an armchair. She stretched her back, sat on her ass and blinked through the firelight at me. Then she looked up at the loft like she knew what was about to happen there. Then she looked back at me and blinked. Then she jumped off the armchair, landing with a fat kitty thump and waddled into the kitchen.

  Well, guess she wasn’t going up there with me to assist me in talking Frey into a make out session.

  With no choice, I went to the ladder and climbed up.

  When I got up, I didn’t look. I entered the space bent double (because I had to, though this was not good considering my major cleavage and the fact that it made the nightie ride up my ass) and turned to shut the curtain. Then I sucked in a deep breath while hiding sucking in a deep breath and let it out while turning back.

  I had put three candleholders in each corner to light the space. When I read at night, I moved six of them beside the bed but I kept them in the corners normally to keep them away from the bedclothes.

  All of them were lit, the fire in the grate was blazing, the space seemed warm and cozy and Frey was wearing nothing but breeches and crouched before the fire.

  He looked hot. His muscled shoulders looked broad. His defined lats looked powerful. And his eyes were on me. Or, more accurately, they were on my nightie.

  Ho boy.

  I should have crouched, though that wouldn’t have been much better.

  “Uh… hi,” I whispered.

  At the sound of my voice, Frey blinked then he moved. Slowly, his big body shifted then he crawled on all fours into the bed as I stood still and watched without blinking.

  There was something animal about that, the way he moved, the unhurried way he did it, his muscles bunching, the fact that he didn’t tear his eyes from my face.

  It was animal, graceful, predatory… fascinating.

  My mouth went dry and I totally forgot about talking him into just making out.

  He dropped to a hip and said gently, “Come here, Finnie.”

  For some reason, without hesitation, I went there. Falling to my knees when my toes hit bedclothes, I moved across the space, stopped two feet away and put my rump to my calves. Then my body stilled when his hand came up. It went to my hair and with a gentle tug, the ribbon was gone and my hair tumbled down.

  Well, so much for that effort.

  His hand curled warm around my neck.

  “I wish to feel it all over me, wife,” he whispered.

  Hmm.

  I liked that.

  “Okay,” I whispered back.

  When I spoke, his eyes did what they did in the market that day, they got lazy and they smiled.

  My belly dropped.

  Wow.

  His hand at my neck curled around to the back and his other hand came to my waist, fingertips only, gliding in, sliding back then I felt his whole hand then, pressing at the small of my back, he pulled me toward him slowly.

  I kept my eyes glued to his as my breath started coming faster and my body started trembling – from fear, definitely, anxiety, you bet, and something else, absolutely.

  As he pulled me closer, his hand at the small of my back wrapped around my waist, tugging me gently so I fell from my calves to my hip and thigh. Then I was pulled closer… my head tipping back… closer… his head dipping down… closer… then my eyes dropped to his mouth right before they drifted closed and he touched his lips to mine.

  That was it. A gentle touch then he used his hands and his torso to push me until my back was to the bed, my head to the pillows and he settled at my side on his forearm
, the hand that was at my neck sliding down my shoulder, my arm, in, over the lace and satin at my ribs, down, over my belly, curling at my waist, down, over my hip, all of this slow, all of this taking his time, all of this while his eyes watched.

  That felt nice, even relaxing, but I was in no state to relax. The heat in his eyes and the expression on his face were both communicating to me in a way that made my skin heat. And his chest was right there, all of it, there was a lot of it, it was fantastic and I wanted to touch.

  But I was terrified at the same time.

  Still, he was touching me so I should get to touch him. And I wanted it so I lifted my hand and slowly moved it toward his chest as his hand slid back up to my belly then suddenly my hand was arrested in mid-air because his fingers had curled around my wrist.

  My eyes went to his to see his on my hand.

  Then they came to mine as he pulled my hand to the warm, sleek skin of his chest, pressing it flat as he leaned closer to me.

  With his face a couple inches from mine, my hand pressed to his skin, he asked softly, “Why do you tremble, wife?”

  I licked my lips. Then I whispered my admission, “I’m nervous, Frey.”

  His lazy, heated eyes got lazier and more heated as he slid my hand up his chest, over his shoulder and around his neck, gently pulling my torso up with it then he left my hand there and his arm curved around my waist. He dropped down fully to his side in the bed as he turned me into his arms and his mouth came to within a breath of mine.

  “I’ll be gentle, Finnie,” he whispered.

  “Promise?” I asked.

  His hand slid warm up my spine to tangle in my hair, making me tremble anew, and not with nerves, as it travelled along its path and he pressed into me.

  “I would not hurt you, my winter bride.” He slid his nose along mine and I liked that, it was sweet, it was hot, it felt nice and my body softened under his. “Ever,” he growled to finish and that was when he finally kissed me.

  There it was. His tongue in my mouth, that skill I remembered, it was all there but this time he was giving it to me, not using it to take from me. It was slow, it was about discovery, exploration, showing, telling, rewarding and I softened more, pressing closer as his hand moved light over my nightie, warm, not invasive, soothing at the same time heating.