Being awoken by a slamming door was not Asgar’s preferred way to start off his day and, as he stands there, the adrenaline courses through his body, his sword’s familiar weight in his left hand as he skirts his eyes from Keir to Freya, seeing her only in a robe. “What is..?”
“She was down at the dock getting some fresh air,” Keir stops him, throwing his hand up. Asgar’s eyes don’t leave Freya, her head held low and her chin down in a sign of shame as her skin flushes and he knows something isn’t right.
Looking back to his brother, he asks, “And what happened?” His jaw clenches, his knuckles turning white as he grips his sword.
Freya dares a small look to her husband, keeping her face low as her eyes peer through her lashes and her breath catches in her throat. The anger playing across his features as Keir explains what he saw between her and Eska makes her limbs want to tremble, but the feeling is conflicted by the white hot rush of desire that roars to life at the sight of his magnificent body.
His skin, just a shade darker than hers, stretched tight over his defined chest, shoulders and arms, the muscles bunching and bulging as he exchanges words with Keir in their native language. His lean and powerful legs seemingly planted to the floor as Freya rakes her eyes over his manhood, starring for longer than a second as the fire builds within her.
***
“Leave us.” Asgar’s deep voice breaks her shameless behavior and she snaps her eyes back down to the floor, bringing her arms tight around herself when Keir releases her.
His brother gives Asgar a raised eyebrow, skirting a look to Freya and Asgar grunts, annoyed at his brother’s insistence for her punishment. “Don’t take too long, Brother,” he says, backing toward the still open door. “Father still wants to hold council before mid-day meal.”
“I know,” he grunts, quickly moving across the cottage, slamming and sliding the lock down over the door after his brother leaves. Seeing Freya standing still in the same spot where his brother had dragged her, Asgar sighs inwardly, rubbing his hand across his jaw around to the back of his neck.
“I’m sorry,” she says and he can tell she’s on the verge of crying, the waver and hitch to her voice evident, even in the meek whisper.
“Letting the village basically see you naked isn’t acceptable,” he almost growls and Freya trembles as he comes to stand before her. She doesn’t move, keeping her eyes on her toes as a tear slips out, running slowly down her cheek. She isn’t just afraid; she is disappointed in herself for being so foolish.
Asgar lets out a deep sigh, not liking the way her meek attitude pulls at his heart and with stepping closer to her, he reaches his hand up and cups her chin, bringing her emerald eyes up to look into his and he sees the tear streaking her cheek. Why does that single tear seem to rip apart every single one of his masculine fibers, making him want to scoop her up and hold her tight, but he knows he cannot. It will make him look weak.
“Did he see you?” He grinds out, the thought of Eska looking at his beautiful wife making his heart race in anger. The fear playing across her beautiful face gives him his answer and he releases her chin roughly, turning away from her and letting some of the rage flow through his arms as his muscles flex and bunch and he clenches his fists.
***
Freya senses the anger flowing through him and she wraps her arms around his waist, pressing her barely covered front to his naked back and resting her cheek on his warm skin. “Please. This is my fault. I was foolish to go out there in this, but I figured no one but the fishermen would be up. Please, punish me. Leave Eska alone.”
“Leave him alone?” Asgar spins on her, grabbing her arms in his hands and pulling her into his chest. The fear in her eyes is justified; he’s furious. The man should have never been allowed to make the journey to be Freya’s ‘protector’ and he has feelings for her that are more evident than blood in snow.
“He should be sent home. He has no place here.” He grasps her elbows and pulls her up so that she’s on her tiptoes, their faces only inches apart. “My brothers will no doubt torment him, goading him and prodding him, but you? I have to punish you, my wife.” The deep, dark way he says ‘my wife’ makes a shiver run down her spine and her legs tremble as he tugs her to him.
“Show me what he saw,” he whispers hoarsely in her ear as his lips brush the sensitive skin, sending a wave of goose-bumps over her flesh. Her body can’t help but explode to life under his touch as he lightly trails his fingertips along her jaw. “Show me,” he whispers again, releasing her and standing silently before her; his eyes trained on her body.
She tries to lower her gaze out of shyness from his stare and gasps as his hand shoot out, holding her chin level to look at him. He said he was to punish her, but the feel of his thumb running over her bottom lip feels like the exact opposite and Freya leans into his touch, wanting more, but Asgar stays her motion with his hand on her shoulder.
“Show me what the man who is not your husband saw of your body, or your punishment will be more than just the flat edge of my sword against your bare ass.” The feral hint to his voice makes the blood rush through her veins as he releases her, the rush of it making her almost faint as he returns his desire filled eyes to her body before him.
Trying to calm her breathing, Freya raises her shaky hands to the collar edge of her robe, the touch of the silky material on her fingertips making her feel sexy before her husband and she sucks her bottom lip in between her teeth as she looks at him. The intent stare of his ice blue eyes intensifies as she runs her fingers down the opening of the robe, stopping just above her navel and tugging it open slightly.
Asgar raises an eyebrow, looking hungrily over his wife’s perfect breasts and flat stomach as her hands stop, keeping what he really wants from his view. “That is it?” He asks, seeing the deep flush travel her skin, knowing she is just as in lust with this moment as he is.
“I was fighting to keep it closed,” she whispers, looking down to her feet to try and hide the embarrassment. As her eyes find her husband’s manhood, she has to withhold a gasp. The size and sight of it making the memory of the mere hours before play through her mind and she can’t stop herself from reaching out and grasping it, moving her hand up and down its length as Asgar releases a frustrated moan.
“I believe you,” he breathes out, staying her hands as they stroke his shaft, stoking the fire that burns for her to an even hotter temperature. “But, I still have to punish you.” Wrapping one of his hands around both of her wrists, he tugs her from his flesh, pulling her to the bed and shoving her down, so that her cheek and chest rest against the soft furs and her perfectly round bottom sticks in the air.
“Now stay still,” he says into her ear as his free hand caresses her backside, making her whimper and arch for more of his touch. He smiles, kissing her cheek quickly as he leaves her alone on the bed; her heavy breathing the only sound in the entire cottage.
She is trying her hardest to do as he says and stay still, but her excited breathing and trembling limbs are making it hard. She is both afraid and aroused, wanting the punishment and wanting more than anything to please her husband. She wants his hands on her, roaming her skin and delving into her as they did the night before and she moans at the thought, the sound vibrating against the feather bed as she hears his sword being unsheathed from where he returned it earlier. The sound seems to seep into her heart as she starts to fear what is coming and she senses him behind her, his light touch on her bare displayed butt cheek sending tingles over her skin.
***
“Don’t be so afraid, my beautiful,” Asgar says sweetly, running his fingertips on her bare ass, torturing himself slightly as his manhood twitches, wanting to be in its rightful place buried deep within her. She releases another moan and his resolve almost breaks, his body wanting more than anything to drop the sword he holds in his left hand and take her from behind, making his wife scream his name as she had the night before.
But he must do this. He must show her
the mistake will not go unseen and show his brother, who has by now told his other brothers and father of the incident, that he is in control of this. That he can handle his wife and eventually the tribe.
***
“I am not afraid of you, my husband,” she whispers in a slur from her position on the bed, her right cheek resting on the furs that smell of him. It is the truth. Her heart swells with the trust she has for him, she only wishes he could see it.
She feels him kneel on the bed and sees the metal of his sword slide effortlessly up near her face as his blue stare comes into focus. His eyes hold something as she sees him look at her body, his hand still running lightly over her raised backside. He is enjoying this as much as she is and it makes her feel devilish, a slight moan of anticipation slipping out before she can stop it.
“Kiss the blade,” he says, leaning over her and rubbing his throbbing cock against her backside, loving the way it slides in between her cheeks. He can feel how ready she is, the dew rubbing off on his straining skin as he directs it against her core and he holds in a groan, his fingers gripping into her hips.
Putting his attention back to her face, he sees that Freya’s eyes are closed and her mouth is slightly open in a silent gasp; a beautiful erotic scene that ignites his blood even more. He suddenly doesn’t know if he can go through with this, to punish her with the flat of his blade and not hurt her with all this adrenaline running through his system.
“I trust you,” she breathes out, before lifting her head only a tiny bit and placing her lips upon the cold metal of his sword.
She opens her eyes to appreciate the fine piece of metal work before her; the blade some five inches wide with scrolling designs etched into it and she knows now why he has such large and defined arms, having to wield the likes of this. The hilt being an intricate design of a wolf and a bear, the handle covered in the same blue and yellow cloth as his dagger. She hears the groan rolling through his chest, his free hand’s fingers digging into her hip and ass, getting her to arch her back slightly into his touch as she bites her bottom lip.
“No, no, no, Beautiful,” he coos, the words of trust she uttered giving him the strength he needs to not go too far with her. Leaning over her and bringing the sword slowly from the bed, he presses a kiss to her spine. Feeling her muscles clench, he smiles and whispers, “No moving.”
She nods, missing his weight and warmth as soon as he backs away from the bed, leaving her cold and wanton. His fingers on her ass, tenderly rubbing and caressing, warm her blood making her feel at ease. She’s as ready as she’ll ever be and she wants him to do it already so she can have him the way she really wants him. She plants her bare feet firmer on the wooden floor, trying to brace herself.
***
He tries to ready her skin with slow circles, wanting to lessen the sting he will cause. Seeing her skin flush a light pink and the small line of moisture run down her thigh, he knows she will fare just fine. Placing a light kiss on her tailbone, he takes his stance, his left side facing her as both his hands grip the familiar handle of his sword. As he raises it, he can see her breathing speed, her eyes wide as she watches him, and he locks her gaze, trying to calm her. Her nod to him makes his heart race and he focuses back in on her backside, raising his sword just a little higher and making sure it is perfectly even, so that only the flat of the blade strikes her skin.
Tightening his grip to ensure the blade doesn’t twist, Asgar brings it back just a little further, swinging forward with a force that he hopes she can handle. The metal connects with her bare flesh, the smacking sound being drowned out by his wife’s screech as he brings it back and repeats the process.
Her skin is on fire and Freya can’t help the scream that escapes as the second blow comes, the pain shooting up her spine and spreading to every single nerve within her body. The heat from the hits tingles and she feels it move toward her core, igniting the desire within her once more as she hears the sword being sheathed. A single tear slips out from the pain as she gasps for breath, trying to calm herself.
The sight of her reddened skin as he steps behind her once more concerns Asgar that he might have hurt her and he tentatively reaches his hands out, carefully touching her irritated skin, feeling her jump, then lean into his touch. He smiles slightly as his thumbs rub over the heated flesh, feeling the raised bump from his blade.
“I am going to take you like this,” he says, his voice harsh with desire and it makes her arms tremble as she moves them from beneath her chest. She wants him more than anything right now, even with the smarting skin on her ass and, as she feels his knee slip between her legs, she gladly opens for him, moaning as his hand slips between her and gently cups her mound, his fingers taking turns to tease that sensitive little nub. “Tell me if I hurt you.”
“Mmm,” is all she can utter as his manhood slides down her crack, the head coming to rest against her entrance. She is on sensation overload, her body already on the verge of exploding as she feels one of his arms circle her stomach, his strength pulling her onto the bed and placing her up on her knees in a flash. She is no longer under his punishment and she wants him, now, so she arches her back and pushes backwards, forcing the head of his shaft into her as a groan rolls through him.
He chuckles deeply, thinking to himself that he has created a vixen out of his virgin wife and he grips her hips, shoving into her with such force that Freya screams, the heat in her core ready to overflow at any time. His slow and precise thrusts drive her mad and she arches into him. Meeting his thrusts, she screams out his name, her vision blurring and her arms shake as she grips the furs she buries her face in.
Leaning over her and pulling her face back to kiss her lips demandingly, Asgar smiles at her sated expression, whispering, “One more for me my beautiful.” Releasing her as she nods, he straightens, tightening his grip on her hips as he picks up the pace, thrusting hard and fast to ensure she finishes with him.
She really is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen as her red hair flows over her shoulder and she looks back at him, her green eyes dilated with passion for him. She’s making the greatest sounds in between biting her bottom lip, making him want more and more of her and he lets out a little laugh, thinking to himself how crazy she has driven him since the moment he laid eyes on her.
Seeing his smile and hearing his laugh sends Freya over the edge, knowing she is pleasing him, and she lets the waves take her over, arching her back and pushing back into his thrusts as he leans forward, capturing her with one of his massive arms across her chest. She feels like she is shattering into a million pieces as white creeps into her vision, trembles rolling through her body. Asgar bites down on the crux of her neck, thrusting hard once more before his own release as her muscles squeeze and pulse around him, effectively milking him.
Collapsing on top of her, Asgar quickly rolls to his side, pulling her back into his chest and burying his face into the back of her neck as they both pant for breath. He doesn’t know how a punishment turned into mind blowing sex like that, but he’s pleased that she enjoyed it as much as he had.
Feeling his lips on the back of her neck as his warm breath skirts over skin, Freya sighs, trying to catch her breath and regain her thoughts after the two memory erasing orgasms she experienced at the hands of her husband. She never thought it could be this good. The stories her married friends had shared with her back home didn’t even compare to this, and noting that, she smiles wickedly, letting a sly laugh escape her lips.
“What does my wife laugh at?” Asgar asks, nipping at the sensitive skin at the crux of her neck and over her shoulder. Freya can’t help but arch her butt into him, her nerves still firing from the aftershocks of her last release, and she can feel his manhood start to reawaken within her.
Groaning, Asgar pulls her face to look at him as he shifts up on his elbow to look down at her, his messed dirty blonde hair sweeping her shoulder and sending tingles over her skin. “My wife is wanton and relentless in her carnal pleasures. It
must wait till later though.” He leans in and captures her lips, loving the way she opens almost immediately for him as he sweeps his tongue out and he groans once more.
Freya spins onto her side, missing their connection the second his manhood slips from her and she captures his face with both hands, claiming his lips and wrapping her leg over his hip, desperately clinging to him. “Why must it wait?” she whines, kissing over his jaw and down his neck. She wants him again, needing to bathe in the attention and love he shows her every time.
“Because, beautiful,” he growls seductively, grabbing her hands and bracing them beside her head as he rolls her onto her back, pinning her down and covering her completely. Looking down into her eyes, he kisses her sweetly, denying the urge to take her again and again, never leaving their home until they are out of food and water; which right now, would be about a week. “We need to have our mid-day meal with my family. It is tradition.”
Sagging into the mattress, Freya wraps her arms around his neck and accepts his weight, wrapping her legs around his abdomen and basking in the warmth that surrounds her. She does not want to leave, but she also does not want to make him disappoint his family. “If we have to,” she whines, giggling when his hands find her sides and tickle up and around her back.
“We have to.” He smiles, kissing her forehead and squeezing her tight as he gets up on his knees, bringing her with him. Their sweaty bodies stick together and, as he pulls away from her, he trails a finger down her chest, between her breasts and around her navel, teasing her mercilessly. “But later? Well later, there is no telling what I am going to do to you, my wife.”
Feeling a spark within her, Freya grabs his hand that is trailing down her skin, pulling him back to her and spins him around to his back; the strong Viking being pliable only because of his shock in her action. Straddling him, she makes sure to drag her core across his manhood as she slides up to have her knees just under his armpits; the shock and lust mixing in his look.
We Roam The Seas Page 9