by Bambi Lynn
Sliding her hands down his back, Kaylla gripped him from behind. She tried to push her throbbing quim towards him as she gripped the hard globes of his buttocks.
His lips and tongue slid over her. He sucked at the raging pulse in her throat. But he held his cock away, teasing her, torturing her. “I want to slide into your warmth and stay there forever.” His voice came out in ragged breaths.
She fought the urge to scream. “Then do so,” she urged through gritted teeth.
He pressed against her velvety opening, barely slipping the bulbous head of his cock inside before pulling away again. Kaylla caught her breath, relieved when he slid into her once again. When he made to pull away again, she gripped his ass tighter and tried to hold him inside her.
“Why do you torment me so?” she whispered.
With his forehead pressed against hers, Rolf smiled down at her. “I needs must protect the reputation of my kinsmen – ravishers of young maids. We are not all brutes.”
“I am not that young, my lord.” Kaylla pulled back as best she could to look up at him. His eyes, usually an earth brown, had darkened. Now they looked almost black. Was it the dim light of dawn, or was he as lust-filled as she? “For the love of God, ravish me already.”
He chuckled. “Open your mouth,” he said.
Kaylla parted her lips. She told herself it was to suck in some much needed air, not because he commanded it. The manly scent of him made her dizzy. The widening of her mouth and subsequent protruding of her tongue proved her wanton to the bone.
Rolf swirled his tongue around her upper lip. He scooped her tongue into his mouth, suckling it. “That’s what it’s going to feel like when I fuck you.” He sucked her tongue in and out of his mouth.
She groaned.
“Dost like it?”
She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t think. All she could do was nod her head.
“Pull me into you.”
“What?” Did I hear that right? Is it up to me?
“Do it.”
I cannot. Even as she shook her head no, her hands kneaded the firm muscles of his backside. “Please do not ask it of me,” she whispered.
He didn’t ask. “Show me what you want–take it.” He flashed her that devilish grin. “I am your slave, after all.”
She wondered briefly who was master and who was slave before she swallowed hard, closed her eyes and tugged him carefully into her. Her swollen, pulsing lips parted easily as the head of his cock split them apart and slipped inside. She pulled a little more and felt him blocked by her virgin barrier. “Will it hurt?”
“Yes.” Lowering his head, he kissed her again. He kissed her so deeply, she nearly forgot what he had told her to do.
Resting his elbows on the floor either side of her head, Rolf stared down into her eyes. “Take what you want.” His tone left no room for argument. With a sly grin, he worked in and out of her, inciting her to a near state of madness.
Tossing away her final shred of resolve, Kaylla seized him with an urgency born of the danger they would soon face. Raising her hips up to meet him, she pulled the Viking into her. She felt a flash of pain.
A deep groan rumbled from within his chest. Again he pressed his forehead to hers, whispered her name again and again.
She felt the sudden rush of power she had over him and reveled in the emotions it invoked within her. When he began to slide out of her, she wanted to cry out, but he covered her mouth with his own. She shook her head in protest, but he pressed his lips more firmly against hers. He tangled his hands in her hair and held her pressed against the floor.
Just when she thought he would pull completely away from her, he plunged, driving into her with a force that sent prickles of light behind her eyes. Again and again, he pulled away only to thrust back inside, driving her off her sleeping pallet and across the floor.
She pulled her knees as far up as she could, bucking her hips against him, ensuring she took all of him into her. The aching pressure she had felt before grew until the flashes of light behind her eyes began popping and every muscle in her body tensed before relaxing in such a burst of pleasure she thought she would surely die.
Instantly, he thrust into her and remained there. He threw his head back and released a groan of such ecstasy, it reignited her own pleasure. She could feel his cock pulsing as he emptied into her.
Spent, he let his head drop between his shoulders. She pressed her feet against his backside to hold him. She encircled both shoulders with her arms, sought his lips with her mouth.
He kissed her back. No longer demanding but languorous, delicious. She could kiss him forever. “I want to fuck you again,” she said.
He chuckled and rolled off of her. “Very well.” He turned onto his side, his head propped on one arm. He toyed with her hair, seemingly fascinated by the way it curled around his finger. “You found it pleasing then?”
She turned to face him and smiled. “More than pleasing.”
“Listen.”
She held her breath and did as he commanded. Her modor and Wulf had both left the hut before she woke. She had made sure of that before she allowed Rolf to climb beneath her coverlet. But neither did any sound come from beyond the mud walls. No rush of feet in the gravel courtyard. No distant clang of William’s hammer. No cursing and grunting as the villagers practiced their new fighting skills. Even the animals could not be heard.
An almost deafening silence.
“Tranquility before chaos,” he explained. Rolf stroked one finger across her brow and trailed down the length of her jaw. “You are so beautiful.”
William had claimed her thus on occasion. Usually such declarations made her want to roll her eyes heavenward. But coming from this Viking’s lips, the words set her heart to racing and sweat to beading between her breasts.
“As are you.” She conceded with a smirk.
Suddenly, Wulf burst through the door. “They come,” he shouted. “The Vikings have been spotted.” As deathly silent as it has just seemed, Kaylla now heard voices outside. Voices raised in confusion and hysteria.
And fear.
Chapter Fourteen
Jumping to his feet, Rolf snatched his braies from where he had tossed them on the floor and stepped into them. Fighting not to let fear overcome her, Kaylla, swallowed the panic that rose to her throat. She followed Rolf’s example, struggling to remain calm, and started dressing. She squeezed her trembling hands into tight fists. If she couldn’t hide her fear, how could she appear brave before the barbarians about to swarm into her home?
“Meet me in the hall,” Rolf said to her as he stepped to the door. Wulf scampered ahead of him, both fear and excitement reflected in his features. Rolf pulled the tunic over his head, then turned to look at her.
No longer did he have the look of a fierce warrior, but that of a man concerned for the safety of his woman. His woman. Her heart beat wildly. She wanted to say something, but what? With one last look of longing, he disappeared, closing the door behind him.
She wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt and finished dressing. Every muscle in her body was tense. She thought about all the people who relied on her. Modor. Wulf. So many of the villagers who looked to her now that they had no one else. She wondered how many would be left at the end of the day.
What if she died today? Or worse, what if she lived while everyone she cared about died? Her heart beat against her ribs like a hammer now. She prayed the Lord would keep them safe.
She stood there in the only home she had ever known, trying to waylay her fears. She conjured memories of happy times before her family had been devastated by death. Carefree days when she and her siblings, friends she had grown up with, frolicked about without fear. She couldn’t bear to lose anyone else.
They certainly needed a miracle this day. It seemed so hopeless. Surely, Hugh had prayed for such a miracle on the day he and his comrades had spotted the hordes on the horizon. If He had ignored the pleas of His servants, what chance did she have that God
would answer her prayer?
She bit back her guilt. ’Twas sinful to doubt His mercy. She would say her prayers, but more than that, she would rely on the lessons Rolf had taught her.
She had learned much from him already. A flush crept up her throat at the memory of some of the things he had taught her. The corners of her mouth turned up slightly as pleasure coursed through her. If he turned out to be playing them false, her heart would be broken. His betrayal frightened her more than anything else that might befall her this day.
With a last look around, she left the hut and headed across the yard. The hall stood in the center of the village, just a few steps from any of the huts built around it. But today it seemed like the longest walk of her life. This must be how a man felt as he climbed the steps to the gallows.
The hall teemed with frightened men and women, excited boys, hysterical girls. The enemy would soon fall upon them, leaving every person in the village enslaved or dead. Kaylla perused the crowd. Was there any hope at all for success? What chance did they have; this scraggly bunch of homemakers, farmers? She shook her head. She had to have faith. Rolf had done all he could to teach them. They had hoped to have this day to prepare as well, but time for dread was over. The time to fight had arrived.
Raising his voice above everyone else’s, Rolf soon held the attention of the group. Her heart swelled at the very sight of him. Already she knew him for a relentless, merciless warrior, a protector who would never give up. She vowed to be more like him.
“The enemy bears down upon you.” His booming voice echoed against the walls. “We will hide on the outskirts of the village, wait for them to arrive. Mayhap they will think the village deserted. When I give the signal, we will surround them. They will not expect an attack. In the confusion, we should be able to take out many of their warriors.”
“Why should you give the signal?” Mae shouted. A rumble of agreement passed among them. Despite his actions thus far, the villagers were not ready to put their complete faith in him.
William limped forward to stand next to Kaylla. “I will signal the attack.” Nods and murmurs of approval ensued. William had taken on the role of leader only after the fighting men had departed, despite the crippled leg that prevented him going with them. Although he did little to incite her passion, Kaylla had thought she could best look after these people as his mate.
To her frustration, he had come to rely on her more and more. Where she had hoped for a man to share the burden of responsibility, instead she had been saddled with a whole new family that would surely make too many demands of her.
’Twas a heavy burden. She found herself withdrawing from William and looking forward to the day his brother, Bearn, would come of age. The smith had good intentions, but lacked the skills needed to be an effective leader. Bravery. Intelligence. Even at this young age, Bearn inspired confidence. He had the ability to rally his people to action. As he matured, his skills would develop. He would be a great leader one day.
If only he survives this one.
When Rolf moved to stand between them, her burden seemed lifted. Rolf Bloodhands was a man a woman could turn to in time of need. A man who could take care of everyone in his charge. With him there, she felt a confidence that had been lacking of late.
She would have to trust him.
“I will not betray you,” he said. Had he read her thoughts? Kaylla knew not if he spoke to her or William, but it was William who answered.
“I will give the signal on your word.”
The two men glared at each other. William soon began to fidget, stepping back slightly, but at least making an effort to hold his ground.
Apparently recognizing the futility of a cockfight, Rolf gave a curt nod and turned away. The tension in the air relaxed, and the three of them set about disbursing the crowd, sending everyone out to find a suitable hiding place. She wove her way through the crowd that converged on the door, offering words of reassurance and encouragement. She searched desperately for her modor, but no one had seen her.
Wulf tugged at her sleeve. “The Viking bids us find a hiding place.”
Her lips pressed together with worry, she glanced around for Rolf. He must have already gone out. She nodded and followed her little brother as he scrambled through the door and across the courtyard. They hunkered down behind the cistern next to their hut.
She could barely see around the rain barrel without revealing her presence, so she kept her head down and pulled Wulf closer to her. He had no qualms about peeking from their meager hiding place and watching for the raiders.
“Can you see Rolf?” She whispered so low she feared he would not hear her. But she dared not speak any louder.
Wulf shook his head no, further inflaming the unease that threatened to consume her. Angst, combined with the chill in the air, caused her to jerk with violent trembles. She took deep breaths. She closed her eyes and imagined playing on the beach with the summer sun beating down on her, running through the forest after a spring rain.
The images did nothing to calm her. She had never been so afraid. She gripped her short sword so tightly, her knuckles turned white. The muscles of her legs tightened, and she had to fight the urge to flee.
She glanced at Wulf. He showed no fear. If anything, he looked excited, anticipating what would surely push him over the threshold into manhood.
The wait seemed interminable, but soon enough the sound of leather boots could be heard crunching on the gravel of the courtyard. She peeked from her hiding place but immediately wished she had not. She choked back a scream at sight of the Viking warriors piling into her tiny village. Even with her limited counting skills, she realized they outnumbered the heathen invaders.
But it would make no difference. She had foolishly hoped these men would prove wrong the horror stories she had heard, that they would fit her more recent impression, the one brought on by the Norseman she had taken prisoner.
However, their appearance told a different story. The band of brutes pouring into the yard in no way resembled Rolf Bloodhands, neither in countenance nor demeanor. They looked as if they had never bathed in their lives. She could almost imagine the vermin that surely infested their thick, scraggly hair and beards. Massive amounts of some dark substance she assumed was old blood stained the filthy clothes they wore.
But the crazed glare of bloodlust in their eyes...she shuddered. Surely the angel of death waited at the outskirts of the village to collect the souls that would be lost this day.
Although she knew it was hopeless, Kaylla closed her eyes and prayed for victory, for her modor to stay wherever she had gotten off to, for Wulf to have the opportunity to grow to manhood. Before she could say her amens, William signaled their attack.
Chaos broke out. Wulf raced into the fray, ignoring her calls to return. Gripping her short sword, she followed her brother, determined to protect him at all costs.
Feet churning beneath her, she reached him just as one of the Norsemen raised his sword. She drove her blade into the tender flesh beneath the warrior’s upstretched arm as Rolf had taught her. Blood spurted from the wound, splattering her clothes. The sticky warmth ran down the blade and over the hilt in thick rivulets, coating her hands. Appalled, it took all her strength to maintain her grip on the sword.
Her mouth dropped open. I just robbed a man of life. She gulped in air like a fish floundering on the beach. Did he have a family at home who would mourn him? Had he been as evil and barbaric as she believed? It happened so quickly, she had barely had time to think. Not like when she had been faced with murdering Rolf, when she had first found him washed ashore.
She had no time to dwell on her lack of remorse. Without a word, Wulf snatched up the Viking’s sword, tossed away his meager knife, and continued his assault. He killed a man before she had time to react.
She jerked her head from side to side, frantically seeking out those she cared about most. Her modor was still nowhere to be seen. She caught a glimpse of Rolf, the image little more th
an a blur as he wielded his sword with ruthless precision.
She could not waste time trying to determine whether or not he held true. Wulf battled at her side, and he would not survive long without her help. As Rolf had instructed them, she took up a stance with her back to Wulf’s. Together they managed to hold the enemy that surrounded them at bay.
Kaylla caught glimpses of Viking corpses strewn around the yard. The sight encouraged her. The more Viking blood she spilled, the more she craved. The stench of it hung heavy in the air, filling her nostrils with the sickening sweet odor. Despite her growing fatigue, she continued to block and jab. This one for Hugh. That one for Faeder.
Before long, however, the skill and condition of the Norsemen, the sheer ruthlessness, proved too much. The initial attack of the villagers had indeed caught them by surprise, but the seasoned fighters recovered quickly.
More and more of her kinsman fell to the Vikings’ weapons or lost their own and stood in surrender. When one of them dragged her modor by her hair into the center of the throng, Kaylla knew the fight was over.
Chapter Fifteen
One by one the villagers dropped their weapons. It looked like about half had survived to face an unknown future. The man who restrained Edlyn did so with a loose hold on her arm. He stood only slightly taller than she; his short, stumpy legs bowed like he had sat too long a-saddle.
Her modor took a step toward them, but Stumpy yanked her back, positioning her next to him with a stern look that warned her to stay put.
Wulf flinched. She squeezed his shoulder in an iron grip. All they needed was for him to rush headlong to Modor’s aid. He trembled as did she. Yet she guessed it was from anger rather than the crippling fear she felt.