Bera practically pounced on Torger, taking his erection into her mouth with a squeal of joy. And why shouldn’t she, Sif thought. Mykle watched, a smile growing on his face, his even white teeth visible. She thanked Freya that Mykle was only her nephew by marriage, not by blood, else she could not have kept watching.
Sif began stroking her nub with her own fluids. Her other fingers dug into the wood of the longhouse. She bit her tongue to keep a moan from escaping her lips.
A branch cracked. Sif froze and looked around for anyone who might notice what she was doing. All she saw was a squirrel. And she was at the back of the house, facing the woods rather than the square. No one would see her.
Inside the longhouse, Torger threw back his head, eyes closed, in something close to ecstasy. Sif swallowed hard as the sounds of sucking grew louder. She stroked herself quicker, with more urgency, and shuddered.
Mykle left her line of sight for a moment and returned with a ceramic bottle in his hand. He poured liquid into his palms. The liquid glistened in the flickering light of the house fire. Oil, scented with flowers, if the smell that tickled Sif’s nose was right. She put her other hand around her breast, enclosing her nipple again.
Mykle pooled the oil on his hands and then spread it over Torger’s back. Torger opened his eyes for a moment, grinning, and closed his eyes again as Mykle massaged his back, going lower and lower with the oil. Many times, Ragnor had done that to her, but none recently. She’d enjoyed it as much then as Torger seemed to be enjoying it now.
Torger groaned, loudly, and nearly toppled over. He grabbed Bera’s head for balance, and she wrapped her hands tighter around his thighs, never letting her mouth lose its hold on his erection. Mykle set the oil down on the table and shed his deerskin jacket and his pants.
Oh my. Mykle’s full arousal was impressive, as fully impressive as Ragnor’s own manhood. Sif grinned, thinking of how she’d teased Ragnor about having the equivalent of a short sword. It seemed some things did run in the family. That would more than fill Bera.
Sif closed her eyes for a moment, lost in a memory of Ragnor taking her, filling her. She stroked herself with long, slow touches, her body lost in shivers, and it was hard to open her eyes and watch.
Torger’s groan brought her back to the present.
Mykle rubbed the oil over his erection, making it glisten in the firelight. The wetness between Sif’s legs grew and her heart began pounding harder against her chest, as if she was the one in the room with them, not Bera.
Mykle closed in on Torger and Bera. Bera’s mouth still worked Torger’s erection, first taking it inside, then licking it up and down, then back inside again.
Mykle leaned over and whispered something in Torger’s ear. Torger’s eyes opened and he nodded. “Hurry,” he said. “Soon.”
Sif’s breath caught in her throat. Mykle wasn’t going to wait, then take Bera when she’d finished off Torger. No, Mykle was going to enter Torger. Sif nearly collapsed against the longhouse, her mind weak at the very idea, her body close to its own climax.
Mykle pressed his body against Torger. Sif gripped her breast so hard that it almost hurt. She’d done so many things with Ragnor. But not this, she had not seen anything like this. Well, neither of them had wanted another in their bed. She still didn’t. But this, this she must see to its end.
Mykle slipped a finger inside Torger, moving it up and down and cupping Torger’s balls with the rest of his hand. It was almost too much to watch, Sif thought. But not quite.
Mykle wrapped an arm around Torger’s chest, holding him tight, pinning his friend, not allowing him to squirm away. Torger’s head fell sideways and he let out a small, intense groan. He didn’t seem worried. They must have done this before, as the rumors said, even if this was Bera’s first time with them. Sif bit her lip again to quiet a moan that would give her away.
Bera ran her hands up Torger’s chest, long slim fingers over the hard muscles. She caressed the spear tattoo. Mykle removed his finger and replaced it with his penis, fully aroused. Torger’s head snapped back and his eyes widened and nearly rolled back in his head.
Bera froze, keeping Torger in her mouth, though Sif could see a little of Torger’s come leak out from Bera’s lips. Sif closed her eyes, imagining how that might feel, to orgasm in two directions. She slipped her own finger inside her, so close, so close…
Mykle slid in and out of Torger, both of them moaning together, over and over. Mykle gathered his friend tight against his chest and thrust one last time, with a long, low moan.
A long shudder took Sif’s body as she came with Mykle, her breath so fast and her knees so weak that she almost collapsed to the ground. Every nerve in her seemed to explode as her muscles inside gripped her wet fingers.
Oh, dear gods. I wish Ragnor would look that enraptured with me. He did once. He must feel that way again.
“I think you’re forgetting someone.”
Sif opened her eyes at the voice, trying to take low, deep breaths to let the orgasm drain out of her.
Bera stood rubbing her knees, eyeing the two men, still locked together. She cleared her throat. “You have forgotten me, have you not?”
Shameless, Bera was. And why shouldn’t she enjoy herself? Sif had certainly enjoyed it. Surely Bera could do better than just watch.
Torger opened his eyes and smiled. Mykle released him.
“Come here, love.” Torger crooked a finger at Bera.
Bera leaped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. He held her there for a bit, kissing her intently. He rubbed his hands all over her bottom and laid her on the table near the fire. “We owe you,” Torger said.
“You do.” She nodded. “What is the point of two of you if I don’t get the attention of both?”
Very true, Sif thought. She idly stroked her nipple, the tremors from her climax still coursing through her. She pressed her eye tighter to the wood to see better.
“Together, we might hurt you,” Mykle said.
Bera giggled. “Try.”
Mykle shrugged, Torger smiled, and they each attached a mouth to one of Bera’s breasts. Sif blinked. Oh, yes, that would be wonderful. Ragnor was inventive but, well, one couldn’t invent an extra mouth. Or an extra pair of hands.
Sif knew that if anyone touched her right now, she would explode all over again.
Mykle poured the oil over Bera’s waist, rubbing lower and lower with his hand until it touched the right spot, Bera’s small nub, just below her fluff of blonde hair. Bera bucked against Mykle’s hand, thrusting her hips, whining, moaning, her noises growing louder and louder. Torger muffled the sounds with a deep, bruising kiss on her mouth, caressing her breasts with his hands at the same time. Only their hold kept her on the table as Bera’s orgasm let loose and her body erupted in ecstasy.
Sif blew out a long breath, slowly, to calm down. The first climax had been wonderful but she wanted more. This was no good, alone.
Torger released Bera’s mouth and shifted to the end of the table. Bera’s face grew more intense. An orgasm, yes, but the men were not about to stop there.
What would it feel like, Sif wondered, to keep going like that? To be so completely overwhelmed? I need it.
Mykle grabbed Bera’s left hand, Torger enclosed her right hand, and they pulled her to a sitting position. Bera shuddered, falling back against Torger. Torger idly cupped her breast and fingered her nipple.
“You first,” Torger said. “It’s new for you.”
Bera’s eyes flew open, focusing on Mykle’s erection. His second one. He recovered fast, Sif thought. He had that in common with Ragnor.
“Oh, yes, you first, Mykle.” Bera handed him a wool blanket. “But wash off and apply oil, yes?”
Mykle hesitated a second, staring at Torger as something unsaid passed between them. How did they do this without jealousy? Did they all belong to each other? Torger picked up the blanket and oil. He cleaned Mykle’s erect penis slowly, with water from a bowl on the table
and the blanket, stroking, ever stroking. Mykle moaned.
Torger rubbed in the oil last, bent down and kissed the tip of the penis before stepping back. He smiled.
Mykle grasped Bera’s hips tight and shoved himself inside. Bera gasped, her body bent back. The heels of her feet rested on Mykle’s shoulders, banging against him but to no effect. One could sooner try to move a mountain.
Sif dug her hands into the packed dirt of the longhouse.
Torger caught Bera’s head before it slammed against the hard, wooden table. He wrapped his arms around her breasts from behind as Mykle thrust himself inside over and over and over until Bera seemed to be nothing but great shudders and moans. Sweat and oil mingled, making all three of them shine in the light from the house fire.
Sif’s limbs grew heavy. She wanted to slide down to the ground but then she would not be able to see the climax.
When Torger moved his hand down Bera’s body, to the right spot, the nub, now slick with oil and wetness, Bera completely lost control, flailing about with passionate moans and cries. Mykle went rigid, holding himself in her, and they screamed with one voice, though Mykle’s cry seemed one of challenge rather than joy.
Mykle cleared his throat, looked at Torger and pulled himself out of Bera. His penis dripped with wetness and come.
“Not yet,” she said, “it feels too good. Don’t—”
Bera still wanted more? Sif blinked. What was more than that? She was not sure she could stand to watch more.
Well, maybe a little more.
Torger released Bera and slid around to the front. “You’ll get more. My turn.”
And either he liked it more than Mykle or had more control over when he came, because Torger took Bera on the table with long, slow, deep thrusts that threatened to turn Sif into a quivering mess by association. Her own body was drenched with sweat. She rubbed her nipple and grew closer to orgasm again.
If Ragnor showed up now she’d not let him deny her. If any man showed up, she’d be ready to claim him.
Torger wasn’t finished. He put Bera on top of him and she rode him on the table, two bodies writhing together. Her head was thrown back. Her hands gripped his torso. He clamped his hands on her breasts, eyes wide, watching her ride.
And then…Mykle entered Bera from behind.
Well. Sif tilted her head for a better view, letting go a long, shuddering breath. Did bodies work that way? It seemed they did.
Bera screamed, almost spent. She made unintelligible noises, arms flailing, her body going back and forth between limp and rigid. Bera could not have gotten away if she tried. Maybe that was the best part, Sif thought, to not be able to get away from all that pleasure.
The men shifted their heads to the side and kissed again, then they kissed Bera, all three rocking together in the same rhythm, hands all over each other.
Finally, they collapsed on the mound of bedrolls in front of the warm fire. The men gasped for breath. Bera seemed unconscious.
Sif felt like collapsing too. Only a little more and she would be over the edge. Maybe she should go somewhere quiet, finish herself. She let the wall take most of her weight. If only Ragnor hadn’t gone to hunt today. And if only she had some oil.
“Sif. Enjoying the day?”
She whirled and almost stumbled.
Gerhard stood a few feet away, leaning against a nearby tree, looking as inscrutable as ever.
Chapter Three
Sif wished she could cover her face and hide the blush creeping over her cheeks. The other part of her wished to step forward, push Gerhard to the ground and ride him.
“I was checking on Bera,” she said, her voice as steady as she could manage.
“Mmm…is she well?” Gerhard raised an eyebrow.
She fought the urge to slap him and take that smug expression off his face. And then I would throw him to the ground… “They are doing better than you, Gerhard, I am sure.”
Gerhard laughed. Not a long laugh, more a short bark, but more emotion than she’d seen from him since his wife died.
“Bera is persuasive and passionate,” he said. “Torger and Mykle are fortunate.”
Sif stood straighter and gathered more of her dignity together. “You know of this?”
“I noticed something between the three of them on the journey. It was a distraction,” Gerhard said, no trace of sneering in his voice. Odin bless, he was actually talking, not brooding.
“Mykle watched Torger,” Gerhard continued. “Torger watched Bera, Bera watched Mykle. A nice tangle.”
“And Bera untangled it.”
“Women usually do. Torger and Mykle were already known to each other and Torger was certainly not averse to sharing with Bera.”
“Mykle seems to be handling his grief well.” And handling Bera and Torger well, too. No worries inside that longhouse, no responsibilities, probably no thought either. She wished that she could join them.
“Mykle deals with grief better than his father.”
“And better than you, Gerhard?”
“That would not be hard.”
“You don’t even try,” she said. “You could have gone hunting with the others.”
“I am doing something. I am praying quite hard for the gods to strike me down. So far, they have not obliged.” He shrugged. “They did not answer my other calls for help, so I suppose I am not surprised.”
She reached out a hand to him, as comfort not lust, but he scowled and she snatched it back. Once, years ago, her mother had favored a marriage between her and Gerhard. Her mother said, “Pick Gerhard. He is your age. He will be a fine warrior and a good companion.” But for her, it had always been Ragnor. He was the bright, laughing sun, already respected as a hunter and warrior.
She’d grown up with Gerhard. She saw all his faults, especially that brooding streak. He’d been well-matched with his wife and so obviously filled with joy at the news of her pregnancy.
“I wish it was not so hard for you,” Sif said. “I could help, if you’d let me.”
“Could you?” His voice turned harder. “No. You don’t understand. You still have Ragnor. And he has you.”
Sif clenched her hands into fists, all thoughts of comforting Gerhard gone.
“I lost my mother, my sister and my niece. And I have no son or even promise of one. Do not stand there and compare my pain and your pain. We are all in this.” She took a deep breath, letting go of the anger. “What you say was Leif’s complaint.” She held up her healing arm. “Do you want your piece of me as well?”
“I meant no disrespect to your dead. And Leif was wrong to hurt you.”
She let her arm fall to her side. “Thank you.” She resisted the urge to rub the scar. It had begun to itch. “I will not be whole until the tribe is whole.”
“How will you do that?” Gerhard gestured to the longhouse. “I grant you, Mykle, Torger and Bera seem to have it sorted. But I do not think this solution, as enjoyable as it seems to be for them—” he inclined his head toward the longhouse, “—will work for everyone. It may cause more problems.”
“Why?”
“They are willing to share. I would not be, if Bera were mine. I would never let another set his hands on my wife. The few who have wives left will never let anyone else put hands on them, Ragnor least of all. That, you should know well.”
As well she did. “But not all the women are married. Some are as young as Bera.” But as flexible?
Gerhard picked a small green leaf from the maple tree above him and looked at the veins in it. “Other men wouldn’t enjoy each other like Mykle and Torger. What those three want is not what most of the warriors want. Though some warriors turn to each other out of—” He cleared his throat. “Need.”
“But perhaps if women were involved, they would be willing to share.”
“No. A man wants his woman to himself.”
“So you believe there will be more fighting and more attacks soon? That there will be more bloodshed?” What had he heard? Sif w
alked closer to Gerhard. He retreated under the boughs of the maple.
“Grief makes men do unhappy things. As you know.” He bent down another branch of the tree, studying the buds. “Bera is enjoying this. Her choice. That will be lost on men who simply decide to take.”
“Are you saying that this, which is bringing joy to the three of them, is something that could tear our tribe apart?”
“Yes.”
“So we will drown in blood after all?”
He shrugged.
Sif thought of the sideways glances at her during Leif’s funeral. Some had blamed her for not submitting to him, though if she had, she would be dead. Leif had been after revenge, not sex, in the end.
They had all liked Leif, with good reason. He had been a fine brother. Until…
“You say you don’t care about what happens, Gerhard. But you must still care, to have seen all this, to be worried about it.”
He looked away, up at the sun streaming through the leaves, seeming to take her question seriously. The light framed his dark blond hair and his sharp cheekbones. Beardless, he was, like Ragnor, a sign of native blood. His face had depth, character, and he could charm when he wanted. He only showed grief now.
“I care,” Gerhard said.
“But you don’t wish to act.”
“The problem belongs with you, as chief’s wife. If you wish to lead us, then lead us.” Gerhard turned the full intensity of his gaze on her. “Find a way. Or else we will be planting bodies in the ground instead of seeds this spring.”
Chapter Four
Ragnor took the lead in the bear hunt. If someone wanted to stab him in the back, if he had misjudged his men that much, so be it. He would not live that way, doubting them.
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