by Kate Pearce
“Mmm?” She flicked open the tab on his pants, easing down the zipper. Hooking her fingers in his belt loops, she pulled his jeans down around his ankles. The fabric was tight enough that it dragged his boxers down too. His dick popped free, curving in an arc to dance just below his navel. She blew a cool stream of air over his pulsing shaft, and a bead of precum slipped downward.
His hands knotted into fists at his sides, but he did nothing to stop her. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk—”
“Erik, I don’t really have any interest in talking. At all. I have other activities in mind.” And then she took his cock in her mouth, all the way down until the head nudged the back of her throat.
His hoarse groan echoed in the bedroom. She formed her fingers in a ring around his erection, stroking him as she licked and sucked the head. The sounds he made were of ecstatic desperation, and they lit a fire deep within her. She’d started this as a way to sidetrack him, but his pleasure became hers. Her sex grew slick with juices, her breasts heavy and her nipples impossibly tight. Shivers of lust ran through her and every time she sucked him, her pussy contracted. She braced her free hand against his thigh, not wanting to stop, but needing the support as tremors ran through her legs.
“Fuck. That feels…Bryn, I…shit, I can’t…gods.”
Humming deep in her throat made him inhale sharply, and she knew the noise vibrated along his dick. She continued to work him with her hand and her mouth, keeping the rhythm fast enough to bring him right to the edge, but not so fast he could go over unless she wanted him to.
Then a sprite of impishness sparked through her. Slipping her hand up his thigh, she massaged the soft sac between his legs. That was rewarded with another round of appreciative cursing and gasps of her name. Oh, but she wasn’t done with him yet. She moved to stroke the sensitive strip of skin behind his balls. He seemed to freeze for a moment, then a harsh shudder quaked his body. His hand plunged into her hair, pulling the strands taut. She ignored the pressure on her scalp and instead slipped further back until she circled the pucker of his anus. He widened his stance to give her more access. His breathing became a ragged rasp, small groans breaking free. She pressed one finger into his ass, then two, then three, while his hips bucked, shoving his cock deeper down her throat.
“Please, Bryn! I need…I have to…Bryn, please.”
Oh, she liked that. Him, begging. Wasn’t that just a nice little fantasy come true?
She was relentless and she was damn sure they both enjoyed it thoroughly. She fucked him with her mouth and her fingers, rubbing over that spot she knew would drive him mad with lust. A low shout ripped from him and he climaxed in long jets of come. Shudders wracked him and his hand in her hair yanked painfully tight. His knees buckled and he managed to land in front of her rather than on top of her. His palms set on the floor on either side of her knees. His forehead pressed to her belly, and they were both panting for air. Need still twisted within her, but she let her fingertips drift gently over his shaved head.
“Are you all right, Erik?”
“Yes,” he rasped, another shudder quaking through him. “A moment, please.”
“Take your time.” She patted his shoulder.
A few more seconds, and then he moved with that lightning-fast speed, pulling her into his arms and standing.
“That was amazing, sweetheart. I think I should return the favor.”
She arched her eyebrows, managing a sardonic tone, though her hormones were jangling for some relief. “Oral? I thought you did that the first day you got here.”
“Hmm, no.” He set her on the bed. “I meant I should fuck your ass.”
Her breathing shallowed to nothingness, excitement wrenching through her. She loved anal, had since the moment he’d introduced her to the sport. The one night they’d been together so long ago hand redefined wild. “There’s lube in the top drawer of my dresser.”
A rich chuckle issued from him after he’d opened the specified drawer. “That’s not all that’s in here.”
“No,” she agreed, propping herself on her elbows to watch him.
“We shouldn’t let anything this entertaining go to waste.” He pulled out the largest of her vibrating dildos, of course. Nipple clamps came next, and then a tiny spiked pinwheel.
She licked her lips, her heart pounding so loudly the rush of blood roared in her ears. “Most of that hasn’t been touched in quite some time. I typically use those last two items on my lovers, not the other way around.”
“Ah, but you’ve already blown my mind. You should get to lay back, relax, and have fun. What do you think?”
“Okay.” At this point, there could be a gun to her head and she still wouldn’t refuse what he was offering. Her body demanded release. Immediately, if not sooner. “Do you want me face up or face down?”
He considered her for a moment, flicking the pinwheel thoughtfully. “Up. I like to see your face when you come for me.”
“Whatever floats your boat.” She winked and stayed right where she was.
His chuckle was more sinful than dark chocolate. Glancing down, he waggled his eyebrows, and stroked his fingers up and down his renewed erection. “We’re afloat.”
The sight was enough to make her toes curl. His cock was perfect—long, thick, with just enough curve to hit her G-spot when he fucked her pussy. She throbbed with need that wouldn’t quit, her nipples contracting into taut nubs.
His gaze zeroed in on her chest, and his smile promised all kinds of naughtiness. A promise she knew he could fulfill. Two long strides brought him to the bed, and he sat beside her. He lifted the clamps. “These first, I think.”
His fingers curled around one breast, his thumb circling the tip. Impossibly, inevitably, her nipple beaded tighter, the ache between her legs so intense she had to squeeze her thighs together. He applied the first clamp. It bit into her flesh, shooting dual messages of pleasure and pain to her brain. The two sensations twined, became one, and she moaned, letting her head fall back.
“Too tight?”
She swallowed, trying to get her tongue to form words. “No.”
“Good.” Then his mouth closed over her other nipple, suckling the peak. His fingers toyed with the clip on the other breast, and moisture gushed into her pussy. Her arms gave out, and her shoulders collapsed to the mattress. Her nipple popped free of his mouth and he clamped it too.
Her hips bucked, her eyes slid closed, and her hands balled in the sheets. “More. Now.”
“Anything you want, sweetheart.” He pressed a hand between her thighs, spreading her. Cool air rushed against her hot flesh, and she shuddered. A low buzzing drew her attention to the dildo he held. He flashed the kind of grin a marauding Viking would wear on a raid. Teasing her clit with the vibration, he made her cry out. Pleasure jolted through her—almost too much to contain—and her fingers snapped around his wrist, forcing the phallus lower. He pushed it into her pussy in one quick thrust, and she came in a rush that had stars bursting behind her eyes.
“Erik!” Goose bumps exploded over her skin, her sex spasming around the dildo. Her body writhed against the sheets, sweat slipping down her temples. Gods, it felt so good.
“Ah, yeah.” He groaned. “You, looking all flushed and well-fucked, screaming my name. My favorite wet dream just came to life.”
An inelegant, snorting little laugh erupted from her. “Shut up and screw me, Erik.”
“And a giggle, even. The night just gets better and better.” He dropped a quick kiss on her lips, nipped at her neck, and then flicked a nipple clamp with his tongue.
She could only manage a mewl of pure want, and the dildo still vibrating inside her meant that one orgasm did very little to take the edge off her lust. She was far from satisfied. “More.”
“Insatiable,” he admonished, but spoiled it with a dimpled smile. “I like that in a woman.”
She heard a creaking pop and knew he’d opened the top of the lube bottle. Excitement sent frissons of need
coursing through her. Gods, yes. That was exactly what she craved. She eased her legs wider, giving him as much access as he wanted. She caught her lower lip in her teeth and watched him slip his hand between her thighs. He bumped the vibrator, and she stifled a moan as her sex clenched. “Hurry, Erik.”
Two thick fingers pressed to her anus, the lube cool on her intimate flesh. He circled her entrance, then pushed both digits in. He pumped into her, working the lubricant deep. She couldn’t hold back a shivery little moan. This was her favorite sex act, partially because it stripped you down to the raw, feral part of your soul, and partially because it was a little dark and forbidden. The illicitness made it so much better. Her breathing became erratic, her talons ripping through the sheets. He added a third finger to her ass, fucking her with them, but this wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted everything he had to give tonight.
“Inside me. Now. Inside me.” She was barely coherent, but somehow he understood her.
“Yes.” He pulled his hand away, lifted her legs to drape her ankles against his shoulder, one arm holding her in place. The head of his cock nudged her ass, and she felt immense pressure as he bore down on her. The angle made it a tight fit as he slid into her one slow inch at a time, stretching her anus. The fact that she already had a thick dildo vibrating in her pussy meant she was almost too full. Almost. She skated along the razor’s edge of agony and ecstasy. Moans broke from her throat, the feeling so damn amazing.
He pulled back until just the bulbous crest of his dick remained within her, then he pushed in, faster than before. Again and again and again. He picked up speed and force, and his pelvis slapped against her ass.
A metallic ping made her look at his hand. He held the small pinwheel aloft. “You didn’t think I’d forgotten this, did you?”
She shook her head. “You assume I’m willing to think about anything but having another orgasm right now.”
That made him laugh. Switching back and forth between legs, he ran the pinwheel up her pinioned thighs, the sides of her knees, her calves, the bottoms of her feet. The prickling tickle made her shriek and jerk against his hold, but he kept her in place, still plunging his dick into the tight ring of her anus.
“No tickling!” It was difficult to assume a threatening expression when a man was fucking your ass, but she managed.
“It’s so tempting to ask or else what, but I have a better idea anyway.” He tossed the pinwheel aside, then reached for the nipple clamps, slipping them off quickly. The sudden end to that pleasure-pain made her eyes pop wide, a new wave of sensation rocking her. He winked, curled his fingers around the dildo, and began pumping it in tandem with his cock. “Time to come, honey.”
It was more than enough to launch her into orbit. Every inner muscle clenched at once, and he gave a choked groan. Her pussy flexed around the dildo, the vibrations just catapulting her higher. He continued to work her with his hand and his cock, dragging out her climax. She felt as if she would detonate like a firecracker, her skin too tight and hot to contain the heat. He pounded into her ruthlessly, and she came again, a harsh cry spilling from her throat. His claws dug into her thigh, his eyes going wolfish as he exploded inside her, hot come filling her.
He collapsed next to her on the mattress, and they both sobbed for breath. Reality faded away for a while, and she drifted in that lovely place where she wasn’t quite asleep and wasn’t quite awake. She was jolted abruptly back to alertness when he opened his mouth and ripped away whatever was left of her shattered defenses.
“I know the timing of this sucks, but there doesn’t seem to be a good time. I need the truth, Bryn. Call me a sick fuck if you want, but I want the blow-by-blow.” He leaned up on an elbow and stared down at her. “I get why you had your revenge on me. I deserved it. But…why would you kill Sigmund, how could you do it?”
She felt as if she’d been punched, crashing hard from such an amazing high. “I already told you this. He would have grown up and tried to avenge you.”
“I don’t buy it.” His gaze went darker than storm clouds, boring into her. “You would never have sat there and coldly thought that someday your little skuggi might possibly turn on the girl he thought was his cousin.”
Her mouth worked, but she couldn’t look away from his demanding gaze. “I killed him. I wasn’t lying, but…it was Grimhild who decided he had to die. Not me.”
“I don’t understand.” He shook his head. “He was her grandson.”
Maybe he deserved the whole truth. Maybe it would push him out of her life for good, prophecies be damned. The gods knew she’d never been strong enough to resist the pull he had on her. It wasn’t the only thing she hadn’t been strong enough to stop. “She had a vision, that your death would twist his mind. He’d take both his sisters to his bed—Svanhild as his wife, Aslaug as his concubine. The children born of these unions would be hideous monsters that would warp the fabric of human history.”
Air rushed out of his lungs as he pushed himself up to sit cross-legged on the bed. Utter rage suffused his face, and his fist slammed against the mattress. “Grimhild.”
“Quite the psychotic bitch, that one. Every power she had, she twisted and abused.”
The rage didn’t lessen, but the ghost of a smile touched his lips. “For her sake, I’m glad she’s dead.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, and then focused on the ceiling. “I’d help you kill her if she was still around.”
Taking in several slow, deep breaths, Erik finally spat, “Treachery like hers doesn’t inspire the gods to bring her to Valhalla. She’s rotting in Hel’s realm now.”
Turning her head, Bryn looked at him. “That’s the only time I’m ever going to hope a giantess does her worst.”
“Yes.” He was quiet for a moment, though she still felt the heat of his anger. “How did she force you to kill him?”
“That’s where things get…complicated.” She swallowed, wishing she could tell the story without reliving the details of that awful day. “Right before your funeral, she and Gudrun brought Sigmund to my chambers. Grimhild said she’d given him eitr poison, and if I didn’t want him to suffer, I’d—”
He twitched next to her. “It could have been a trick. She could have lied. It wouldn’t have been the first time.”
“Maybe, but I don’t think so. He started convulsing, blood dripping from his nose and mouth.” She cleared her throat, pushed herself up to sit against the headboard, and clutched a pillow to her chest. It was ridiculous, but she couldn’t lay there completely naked while she stripped her soul bare. “Erik, he looked so scared.”
“Bryn…”
She stared down at her lap, her hair falling in front of her face, offering at least a little cover from his penetrating silver gaze. “I didn’t know if I should believe her about her vision, about Sigmund turning into a sick, perverted man, raping his own sisters. But I’d seen what eitr could do, how long a person would linger. It’s a slow, awful death.” She scrubbed a hand over her eyes. “And Gudrun just stood there like a half-wit while her kid cried for help.”
Memories exploded through her mind, as crystal clear as if it had happened yesterday. Bryn remembered how she’d held the little boy close, kissed the top of his head, rocked him and sung to him. Trying to offer what scraps of comfort she could in those final moments while harsh spasms shook his tiny body. Then she’d pulled her sharpest dagger out of her boot, where she always kept it, careful not to let the child see. She’d made it quick, as painless as possible. But his blood was on her hands, just as Grimhild had wanted. No one would care about Bryn’s intentions, nor would they ask if it was a mercy killing.
In the end, it didn’t matter what anyone else thought, did it? Bryn had had to live with what happened. Immortality gave no rest and no peace, just a lot of ugly recollections to a keep her up at night.
If she closed her eyes, she could still see the dark red blood pooling on Sigmund’s unnaturally pale skin, still feel the limpness of his body. Her husband�
�s nephew. Her nephew. If things had gone differently, he might have been her son.
She’d carried him outside to Erik’s funeral pyre, the blood soaking through her clothes, a stain she’d never been able to get out of her soul. She’d been so shell-shocked she hadn’t even been able to shed a single tear. She hadn’t cried since, not once in a thousand years. She had no right to tears after helping slaughter that sweet boy. Her skuggi.
Laying the boy beside his father, she’d stood over them and stared for long minutes. Numbed with grief and rage, she’d seen a flash of sunlight on stones and looked down at the ring on her finger—the cursed ring that had engendered so much greed and suffering—and she’d known a moment of cold, rational understanding. There was only one way to end all of this, to break the curse so it wouldn’t fall on her daughter. A curse like this demanded a blood sacrifice to be broken, scoured clean by pure, purging elements. So she’d stretched out beside the man she’d loved and hated more than life itself, and called up the fire that had once surrounded her castle. She’d given the ultimate sacrifice, hoping her death would please the gods enough to end Andvaranaut’s reign of destruction.
“I couldn’t save him. I’m sorry.” Her tone came out harsher than she meant it to, ripping through the silence of her bedroom. She hugged the pillow tighter, wishing it offered even an ounce of solace, but nothing ever did. Nothing ever would. “I wish I could have, but it was already too late by the time they brought him to me. Even knowing that, I still—” She jerked her chin to the side, cutting herself off. It was done and over with. There was nothing she could do about any of it.
Erik’s hand closed over hers, his skin a blistering furnace against her chilled flesh. “I forgive you.”
“What?” She couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d slapped her. Actually, she might have been less shocked if he had.
He squeezed her fingers. “I forgive you for getting me killed. I forgive you for not being able to save my son.”
Those simple statements rocked her down to the foundation. It couldn’t be that easy. Hadn’t he heard what she’d said? Didn’t he understand what she’d done? “I—”