by Jenika Snow
If it was possible, I grew wetter between my thighs.
This flush stole over me, rushing along my limbs, along my neck and face. And the longer he stared at me, the more he controlled me with a pleasurable haze, the higher my need for him grew.
He placed his hands on my inner thighs and slid his big fingers along my skin, sending fire rushing through me. And then he pushed my legs open even wider, the muscles protesting, screaming, burning in only the best of ways.
“As much as I want to push into you right now”—his throat worked as he swallowed—“I need to taste you with a desperation that rivals anything else I’ve ever experienced.”
My stomach hollowed in and out as I breathed roughly. He had his hands by my pussy, his fingers by my lips. He spread me apart, the cool air drifting along my exposed flesh. He was lowered between my legs, his mouth right by my intimate part.
“You smell so fucking good, look so incredible.”
I closed my eyes as soon as I felt his tongue on me, flattened, hot, wet. He licked me from pussy hole to the little nub at the top of my sex. Then he sucked that engorged little bundle into his mouth, and my upper body rose off the bed from the sensations that slammed into me. He had a hand right under my breast, holding me in place as he licked and sucked and brought me to a place that surely the gods visited.
He held me open, licking me until I gasped, sucking in air, trying to stay conscious. And then it was like something broke inside of me, that same intense pleasure that had me soaring, grasping, clutching for something solid. The sounds coming from me were broken, pleading. The sounds coming from Gunnar were like a wounded animal, a starved beast.
Only when I tried pushing him away, so weak, so sensitive, did Gunnar move back. I forced my eyes open, not even realizing I’d had them shut. He had his hands braced on the bed on either side of my shoulders, his huge warrior body blocking out everything else. I stared at his mouth, his lips glossy from what he’d been doing to me, from what he’d wrung from me. He didn’t make me wait to know what he’d do next. He gripped my chin, leaned in, and kissed me, forcing me taste myself on him. He speared his hand in my hair and pulled on the strands forcefully. I felt the hot, hard length of him press between my thighs as he continued to kiss me. But what I really wanted was to have him place his shaft at my entrance and push into me, stretching me…owning me.
And then without breaking the kiss, he reached between our bodies and put the tip of his dick at the entrance of my body. Everything in me froze, stilled. I didn’t breathe, didn’t even think my heart beat at that moment.
The fierceness that covered his face, and the way he looked down at me, as if almost waiting for my permission to proceed, had a flush stealing over me. This was not just a man, not just my husband. He was a Viking, brutal, raw with power, maybe even barbaric when the time called for it. He took what he wanted, no doubt, expecting compliance, submission. But right now he waited for me, waiting to make sure I was okay.
I smoothed my hands over his inked arms, the muscles flexing underneath my fingers.
“I’m ready for you.”
He groaned deeply and closed his blue eyes. “You’re mine. You belong to me.” When he opened his eyes again, I could see that truth reflected back at me. This was about me being his possession. This was about me being his in all ways, the same way he was mine.
When I felt his body tense even further, I knew what was coming. He pushed deep inside of me in one thrust, breaking through my maidenhead, making me untouched no longer. I arched my back, my breasts thrust out, my mouth opened on a silent cry. The pain was immense, his size making me gasp. I knew he was big, that there would be discomfort, but the stretching, the burning of his penetration had tears pricking the corners of my eyes.
Gunnar leaned down and licked those tears away, took them from me, my pain, and gave me pleasure. He started moving then, back and forth, over and over again, slow, easy, steady. The heavy weight of his balls pressed to my bottom every time he thrust into me.
He didn’t say a word, just kept his eyes locked on mine, his concentration clear.
His massive chest rose and fell as he breathed. “Never have I felt anything so incredible as being buried deep in your pussy.” Gunnar thrust himself to the hilt in me, and I felt my eyes widen, my lips part slightly. My inner muscles were clenching rhythmically around his girth.
“So good, my Ingrid.” He pulled out so the tip was lodged in my body. A heartbeat passed, and then he shoved back inside of me. We both cried out in pleasure.
“Yes,” I whispered.
It was as if that one word set him off. He went primal, savage then. His harsh grunts fueled my lust.
He was fucking me now. There was no other way to say what he was doing.
He moved in and out of me until our skin was slapping together, our sweat mixing as one. Gunnar pulled back and looked down the length of our bodies at where we were connected. I followed suit. I moaned at the sight of him tunneling in and out of me, his thick shaft covered in my glossy desire and my virginal blood.
He grunted out his pleasure, and mine increased. I gasped, and he held my hips in such a tight, unyielding hold. He kept me in place as he claimed me, as he made it known that I was his, using his body, pleasuring me to the ends of the world.
Gunnar buried himself deep inside of me, over and over again, bringing me to the very heavens with each thrust. I felt full, so stretched, the pleasure and pain mixing as one, making me light-headed, crazed for more.
And then he buried himself deep in me in one powerful thrust, pushing me up the pallet, my back sliding along the furs, the burn intense and so good.
“Gods,” he groaned, his body so big, so hard above me. He filled me, his hot seed touching every inch of me, slipping from where our bodies were conjoined. He cursed and murmured harsh things. His eyes were closed, his neck strained, his face in an almost painful expression. He finally relaxed atop me, his heavy weight a delicious sensation.
“This is how a warrior feels when he finds the one he wants to keep.” He sounded like he was speaking to himself. He opened his eyes and glanced at me. “This is surely what Valhalla feels like.”
When he pulled out of me, we both made disappointed sounds. Before I could move, he had his arm around my middle, pulling me tightly to him, laying a kiss on my shoulder.
Our skin was sweating, pressed against each other, so erotic, so pleasing. I felt the wetness from his desire and mine coat my inner thighs. He had a hand between my legs, as if knowing what I’d just been thinking. I gasped and shifted when he slipped a finger into me, pushing his seed back into my body.
“I belong here. Always.”
He pumped his finger into me lazily, and I sighed, feeling heat rise in me again.
“Mine,” he said huskily, and I felt perfect, so much so I actually smiled. Gunnar leaned down and kissed my forehead, a sweet and gentle act that seemed so misplaced, given a first look at him. He slipped his finger from me and pulled the hide over us. I felt myself start to drift to sleep, content, safe, happy. I didn’t know what the future held, but what I did know was that I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
8
Ingri
A chill washed over me and I opened my eyes. The furs were down around my waist, my chest was exposed, and despite the fire that burned in the center of the hut, keeping everything warm, I was cold.
Because Gunnar wasn’t next to me.
I stretched, my body deliciously sore in all the right places, and slid my hand over to where he’d slept. The furs were chilled, but the remembrance of his heat, of what we’d shared, would forever be imprinted in my mind and body.
He’d owned me in a way no other male ever had.
He’d claimed me so I would only crave him.
Even now, just thinking about what we’d done, what we’d shared the night before, made me flush. I was wet, ready for him again.
I heard grunts a short way from the hut, sounds of
men fighting, of warriors trying to defeat each other. I got a flash of the night in my village, the death, the violence.
I moved off the bed and grabbed a shift. I slipped a leather shawl over my shoulders, tied my hair back with a leather tie, and made my way toward the door. I pulled it open and looked around, but didn’t see anything. I ventured away from the hut, following the noise, and came to a crowd of villagers. They were in a circle, and I could see through the break in bodies two massive men fighting.
And one of them was Gunnar.
The closer I got to the crowd, the more people noticed me. They parted, letting me in, allowing me to see the fight. But this wasn’t a fight. It was training.
I could only stand there and watch as Gunnar and another huge man fought. They had axes, sparring with each other. Their bodies were corded with muscle, their strength saturating the air, covering me, making me feel immensely feminine. I couldn’t take my gaze off Gunnar. He fought with a focused, controlled expression, his movements strategically placed, precise. I was transfixed as I watched them fight hand-to-hand. Although they were equally matched—or appeared so in height and weight—I could see the skill in Gunnar’s moves.
He said something to the other man in their native tongue. Giving him instruction, I realized.
I couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe as I watched Gunnar. He moved as if he were a wild animal, stealthy, experienced. I was drunk off him, the sight of this man all mine, this beast of a male that protected what was his, even if that meant killing.
It seemed like days I stood there watching them, transfixed by them. But then Gunnar got the upper hand, taking the other Viking down, making him surrender. Gunnar was sweating, his wide, muscular chest heaving up and down from the exertion. He held his hand out, helping the other male up. They gripped each other’s forearms, a warrior’s touch.
The other man left the center of the circle, and when I turned my focus back to Gunnar, I saw that he watched me. My heart thundered at the heavy-lidded look he gave me, the heat between us, the chemistry I knew he felt as well, moving between us powerfully.
“Your turn, sweetness.”
I swallowed, feeling everyone watching me, waiting to see what I’d do, how I’d handle myself.
I reached out and took the sword he offered, the weight almost making my arm drop to my side. But I held it, kept it up, not letting the blade touch the ground.
“Show me how you protect yourself.” He stood before me, his longsword at the ready, although I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to me. He wanted me to be able to protect myself if I had to, if the time ever came.
Someone beside me handed me a shield, and coupled with me holding the sword, my arms ached, the burn settling into my muscles.
“I’d never let anything harm you,” he said softly. “But I need you to be able to handle yourself in case.”
All I thought about in that moment were those beasts coming to my village, trying to take what wasn’t theirs.
And then Gunnar came forward, his eyes focused on me.
“Always keep your gaze on the other person, but also watch your sides.” He made a show of looking side to side. “Enemies will come at you from all directions. You have to be ready for anything.”
I nodded. My throat was tight, my heart racing. He came forward even more, his movements slow. When he lifted his sword, I raised the shield. He was going so slow it was easy enough for me to block his blow. I felt like I was holding my breath.
“Now come at me, sword raised, arm straight. You want to hit me here,” he said and hit his chest with the hand that held the sword. “You want to make sure you get a fatal blow, that they can’t come back at you.” He took a step closer. “Because they will, Ingrid. They’ll come after you if you don’t hit them where it counts at the first go.”
I swung the sword, knowing how to handle myself to a degree, but nothing like how these warriors had been trained.
He blocked the move.
Over and over we did this, sparring with each other, playing this game of swinging and blocking. I knew he was going easy on me, but I felt pride in myself for holding up, for keeping this going. I was a strong woman in my own right, and I wouldn’t be brought down. Gunnar saw that in me, could see that I was an equal. That was one of the reasons I had fallen for him.
That realization slammed into me.
I had fallen for him, saw my life tied with his, and didn’t want that to end.
My thoughts made me falter, and Gunnar was on me, his big body pressed to mine. “Be alert. Always.”
I moved back but tripped over my own foot. I fell backward, my sword and shield falling from my grasp. Before I hit the ground, Gunnar had me, my body pressed tightly to his, his strength cradling me, shielding me.
I called up the little training I did have and jabbed my leg out. He must have anticipated it because he blocked the move and backed away. He had a grin on his face.
“Good, Ingrid. Very good, my wife.”
He came to subdue me. I blocked him and kicked out. My leg coming in contact with his body was slightly painful, but it made me feel alive.
“I have a little warrior on my hands,” he said, grinning. And then he had me in his arms before I could stop him. I was panting, breathing so hard I felt dizzy. Sweat beaded my brow, sliding down the valley between my breasts. He watched me, the amusement fading the longer we stared at each other. He started breathing harder too, and I felt his arousal press against my belly, that huge iron rod of a cock that had stretched me so good the night before.
I was getting aroused.
For so long neither of us moved, didn’t even speak. We shared the same air, our focuses locked, the fact that villagers were around us, watching us, not even a concern. I don’t know what came over me, but I found myself leaning in and kissing him, needing his mouth on mine.
He groaned, reached behind me, and took hold of my hair in his fist. I loved the sting of pain, that tug of him controlling me, owning me. I felt us moving backward and let him carry me away, the fighting forgotten.
When I pulled back, I saw we were in the hut again, the privacy surrounding us. Although truth was I wouldn’t have cared if everyone saw us, if they watched what my husband, my Viking did to me. I stared into his eyes, saw fire in the blue depths, icy flames of passion, of need. I knew what was about to happen, where this was headed. I was pleasantly sore from last night and ready for more.
I knew I’d always be ready for more with Gunnar.
Gunnar
I stared at my wife, the cream dress she wore, the flowers on her head, around her crown, making her seem like a gift from the gods.
She is a gift from Odin, my own prize to forever cherish.
We held our swords up, touching them, sealing our union. The words being spoken, tying us together, making this union official, played through me. Everyone watched us, my loved ones, my people.
Her people now.
When the sword ceremony was finished, we held hands, a woven piece of fabric tied around our wrists and arms, bonding us. All the while Ingrid smiled, her gaze locked on mine, the truth and genuine emotions for me clear. I loved this female, had since the moment I stared into her wide blue eyes, her face covered in our enemy’s blood.
And then she was mine in the eyes of my people and our gods. I pulled her in, cupped the back of her head, and kissed her. I didn’t have to make a huge show of this, but I wanted to. I wanted everyone to see she was mine, that I’d show her how I felt for her, how she made me feel, no matter where we were. When I pulled away, the cheering of our people was loud, surrounding us, making us whole.
“My wife,” I whispered. I cupped her face, kissing her over and over again, never able to get enough. She’d come with me, taken a chance on the unknown. She was so strong.
“A feast fit for the gods.”
Everyone seemed to roar out in unison. Ingrid laughed, her smile wide, her eyes bright. I pulled her against
my side, and together we turned and looked at our people. They cheered, waving flowers, colorful cloths and flags in the air.
This was what I’d been missing, what I’d been searching for, fighting for. I just hadn’t realized it until Ingrid came into my life.
Epilogue
Gunnar
I watched as the pleasure washed over Ingrid’s face, saw her cheeks flush further, her mouth part, and heard her cry rise above everything else. My heart thundered, a war drum beating against my very soul, the very heavens, as if knocking on the gods’ door.
“Gunnar,” she whispered, and I came right then, filling her up, making her take all my seed. When she’d wrung me dry, my balls emptied in her tight, warm body, I slowly pulled out of her. Our bodies were dotted with perspiration, and I didn’t stop myself from leaning forward and running my tongue between her breasts. She tasted salty and sweet, and all mine.
I collapsed beside her, breathing like the winds that whipped around our longship when we sailed. Looking at Ingrid, I was struck by my love for her, by the fact that I made her smile daily.
“You’re happy, sweetness?”
She had her eyes closed, but the smile she gave me told me she was. That had pride filling me.
“I am,” she whispered. I pushed the damp hair from her face, slid my finger along her jawline, over her neck, and kept descending. “They’ll be waiting for us.”
I grunted, not caring if the other warriors were in the main hut with mead and food. I’d rather starve and please my wife any day. “Tell me you’re happy, that I make you that way.” She turned over and faced me, and I slid my hand down her belly, cupping the slight roundness. My child rested in there, safe, warm, healthy. She had her hand over mine, her smile still in place.