by Ingrid Hahn
“The jarl commanded me.”
Ozrik shoved him. Thorvald stumbled, balance compromised by the weight of the princess. “You’re a coward.”
The word was worse than all of the princess’s hate. At least she had reason for how she felt.
Thorvald withdrew his sword and shoved the end against Ozrik’s throat. “Say that again.”
“I’m ashamed to have called myself your friend. Sigurd would be too. You’re a disgrace to his memory. You’re a disgrace to your father’s memory, who died like the warrior he was.”
It was better that the secret of Thorvald’s father would die with him and the jarl, but sometimes he wished he could throw it all in their faces. The man they remembered as brave and honorable had been anything but. Thorvald would set himself on fire before being anything like his sire.
As for Sigurd… If he were here, he could raise the men to fight against the jarl. Once the jarl was dead or driven away into the woods to hide, Thorvald would be free to claim the princess as his own.
Instead, Thorvald was imprisoned by his word. He could hate his restraints all he wanted. That wouldn’t make them vanish. “Because I honor my oath of loyalty and serve the jarl I swore myself to?”
The other warrior snarled. “Exactly.”
“This isn’t over.” Thorvald pushed past the man and into the side chamber, pulling the door shut and barring it. Inside and alone, he set his burden lightly upon the floor. He remained silent long enough to make a point without having to speak. But he spoke nonetheless, to emphasis the gravity of her actions. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
She crossed her arms and glowered at him. “Your jarl deserved no less.”
His jarl? Vexing as it was, he couldn’t deny it, but hoped it didn’t show in his face how much her words rankled.
“On the contrary. He deserved far worse. All the same, you shouldn’t have done it. Because now…” Only one torch burned in the room, making it dim by comparison to the hall with fires and torches alike, but his eyes adjusted quickly. “Now I have to punish you.”
“You said you wouldn’t raise a hand to me.”
“I’m glad you remember.” All he’d felt that night when he’d caught her escaping returned…and in force. His need wasn’t merely a lone warrior ready to assume single-handled combat. There was an army inside of him, raised by the force of his desire, and ready to conquer her. Heart. Mind. Body.
“Do you have to do everything that diseased rat testicle says?” Flippant defiance infused her voice.
He grunted. At any other time, hearing her speak like that would have been amusing. Apparently, she’d learned plenty on their sea voyage. And by the gods, how he wished he could be as free to express his true feelings. “I’m not going to cut out your tongue, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”
“You can’t do this.” A note of panic entered her voice. “Wha—what are you going to do?”
“You may choose your own punishment.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Being near you is punishment enough. There. Are we finished?”
“For me as well.”
She raised her brows at him. “Pardon me?”
“It’s a punishment for me to be near you.” He stepped closer. His voice was raw and needy. “Torture. In ways you don’t even want to know about.”
Awareness stirred between them. All the things Thorvald had thought he could live without—around her, they became as vital as air.
Her voice lowered. “Nothing you can say will frighten me.”
“This would. But I think…I think you already know.” The admission was so close he could taste it.
“Sometimes things need to be said.”
It was what he needed to hear. “Don’t you see? I want to touch you and caress you and do things to you like I’ve never done to a woman before.”
She licked her bottom lip. “And yet you handed me over to him.”
“It was what I had to do.” Thorvald rubbed his brow and let out a heavy sigh. “I gave him my word—”
“Your word. Your word. Your word. Are you as weary of hearing that as the rest of us?”
“It’s not an excuse.” There was a note of desperation in his voice that made him hate himself. It was like he was clinging to a thrashing beast that would kill him, yet he was still unable to release himself.
“Then you have no right to say these things to me.”
“I’ve wanted you for so long.” Now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop. “But while you were in thrall to me, I couldn’t touch you. Not because I knew you would ultimately belong to him—”
“I belong to nobody,” she snapped. “And you did touch me.”
He nodded. “I was wrong to do so.”
She paced to one side of the room and lingered, her back to him. Neither spoke. Beyond the walls were the sounds of the food being enjoyed and laughter that would only grow louder as more ale was consumed.
“Is that your idea of punishment? Is that why you brought me here? Were you merely obeying him or did you think that you and I…we might…”
They were perilously close to speaking of something dangerous. Something forbidden. Something he wanted with all the dust in his bones. Did he dare?
He was a warrior. He’d been trained to tread into the unknown. Since his first summer as a man, he’d fought and felled bigger, heavier, stronger warriors than himself.
Being with her was different. What he said here didn’t threaten bodily harm. It threatened what was inside of him should she see how desperately he wanted her. If she saw that, she could rip him apart and he’d never recover.
Oh, yes. He dared. If he remained silent, he’d never forgive himself. “I think about it constantly. You. Me. Everything a man and woman can have together, I think about that with us. More than you can probably begin to imagine.”
“But you still have to punish me.” Her voice was flat.
A tortured sigh escaped his lungs. “I still have to punish you.”
The silence drew long between them.
He was keenly aware that no matter how hard she clung to her hatred of him, she still wanted something more from him. Something…not very nice, but utterly irresistible.
She whirled suddenly. “Then spank me.”
Chapter Thirty-One
The Princess’s Name
Thorvald stared at her, struck dumb. “You want me to…”
“Spank me.” She gave a quick little nod and inhaled, as if hoping the reserves of courage she’d called upon were actually there. “Yes. That’s what I want as my punishment.”
His throat dried. All the pent-up longing to take her with the tender care he thought she deserved vanished. Blood rushed through his cock, hot and furious. He was no longer merely thick and long. Now he was massive and hard. There was no wishing his erection away now. “I can’t believe you really mean what you say.”
“Do me the honor of taking me at my word the way you expect others to do for you.”
“Fair enough.” He made no move. His hand flexed. Would he attempt spanking her bare bottom? He would cut off an arm for a glimpse of that rounded flesh.
This wasn’t about him. He had to keep that in the front of this mind. If they did this—
No. He wouldn’t consider it. “Pick something else.”
“You said you had to punish me and you said I could pick how you’d do it. What did you expect?”
“I expected you to choose something involving less bodily harm.”
“He said he wanted to hear me scream. You do everything he says.” She glared at him, the fire in her eyes challenging him to accept. “So spank me.”
But it wouldn’t come down to a contest of wills because Thorvald possessed no more ability to resist. As soon as he realized he was going to give in, he relaxed. The battle raging inside
of him, fighting between what he wanted to do to her and what he thought was right, came to a hasty conclusion.
“Very well.” The small space seemed oddly still and silent as he took a place on the bed of furs, sitting on the edge of the mattress elevated off the ground by a wooden frame. If they were going to do this, they were going do it right. She was going to bare herself to him. “Come. Lift your dress. And lay yourself over my lap.”
She obeyed, coming to him slowly and purposefully, fingers pinching her skirts, ready to raise them, but not doing so quite yet.
“Go on, now. Lift your dress.” He paused and gave her a frank stare directly in the eye. “Everything is up to you, princess. You tell me what you want, I’ll give it.”
Her color went high. Anticipating what he was about to see made his cock pulse.
She stayed still a moment, clearly struggling internally. With a huff, she did as he told her. Her skirts went up quickly, exposing long legs. She bunched the fabric before her so he could get no glimpse of the hair between her legs, while pulling it high in the back.
He helped her position herself over his lap, her weight pressing gently down upon him. “Tell me this is all right.”
“I put myself in your hands.”
Thorvald’s hesitation melted away. She trusted him. Whatever else was between them, that remained.
And her ass…oh, her ass. It was magnificent. Full. Fleshy. Round. Far better than he’d imagined it when he could only see the shape under her garments.
Thorvald’s breath came hard and deep. He issued a few light smacks, rubbing after each to learn the feel of her.
It was merely the beginning.
He whacked again, somewhat harder. The flushed glow he longed to see was beginning to appear. So sweet and lovely. So feminine and enticing.
Without warning, he raised his hand and brought it down with an echoing crack. Her flesh was firm, but still wobbled alluringly under the rough treatment, and she squealed and jerked. Instead of raising his hand again, he let it linger. Moving his palm over the surface of the warm skin. He needed to see the skin turning redder and redder with every smack he inflicted.
Aroused beyond what he’d ever dreamed possible, his breathing came rough and deep. But he couldn’t hurt her—not if she didn’t wish it. They had to both want it together with the same ferocity. “Shall I continue?”
“Don’t stop.” Her voice came out needy.
He raised his arm and brought his hand down again, harder this time. She let out a sharp scream.
That she trusted him to exert power over her sent an intoxicating rush through his veins. This was precisely why a quick rut with just any woman wasn’t good enough.
Releasing animal need held certain appeal, true. He was as human as the next person. And what were humans but glorified creatures with strong needs? His need had narrowed to a single point of focus. Her.
He brought his hand down again. Everything he’d sworn to himself time and again he wouldn’t want to do to a woman, everything he’d tried to believe he wouldn’t take pleasure in, he unleashed upon her. Her flesh wobbled and her cries pierced the air. Blood rose to the surface of her skin, making her prettily pink. The color was a tantalizing temptation to explore in more depth between her legs and discover what shade she would be there.
“I want to touch you.” His voice was deep and rasping.
“You are touching me.”
“More of you.”
She arched her bottom, urging him onward. “Do it then.”
He followed the line of her cleft down into the shadows and slid his middle finger lightly along the outer line of her sex. “Should I stop?”
“Stop now and I’ll curse your name with my dying breath.”
“Princess—”
“Alodie. My name is Alodie.”
“Alodie.” It was a strange sound. Not conventionally beautiful by the standards of his language, but it was hers. Upon his tongue, it was nothing less than a jewel.
“There is only one way this is going to end. Are you prepared?”
She touched her finger to her forehead, her heart, and either shoulder. “God save me, yes.”
He released a tense breath. “I’m going to spin you so dizzy on pleasure that tomorrow when somebody asks you your name, you’re going to have to stop and think about it because all you’ll be able to remember is that I made you mine.”
Thorvald slipped his finger into the slick flesh, rubbing gently back and forth. There was no more silken substance to be found than what a woman kept between her legs. He found the entrance to her body and eased his way into the snug passage.
Sometimes on voyages to distant locations the men gave him grief about not liking sex as much as Sigurd had liked sex. It wasn’t true. He just wasn’t as vocal about it. And his tastes were narrower. The satisfaction of sleeping with a woman for no other reason than to slake his urges held little appeal. His appetites were strong, but his control over himself was stronger.
So he’d thought.
Until this moment, he’d never known how powerfully he needed to join his body to a woman’s. This woman’s. Alodie’s.
She moaned. “That’s…” He moved deeper and she caught her breath. “Yes.”
He stayed, playing with her. Withdrawing his finger, he went upward and found the hard tip of flesh, swirling around it this way and back the other way again. Letting the pleasure linger and build. She moaned and whispered needy sighs.
She was so beautifully aroused. Should he have been forced to choose, her perfume could have incited him to forgo mead the whole rest of his life. So long as he could keep Alodie’s fragrance for all the summers of his life, he could have vowed never to let a drop of the honeyed drink pass his lips again.
“I want you to take my cock.” Using his finger, he mimicked the movements of thrusting inside of her. His erection had never been stronger. “I want to feel your body squeeze mine. I want you writhing underneath me and begging me to stop because you think the pleasure may well kill you. I want you so sore tomorrow, you’ll think of me with every step you tread. Can you take me?”
“I can take you.”
He smiled. “We shall see.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
The Inevitable
Alodie’s backside stung. Between her legs, she throbbed with heat. Her skin had turned acutely sensitive. He merely had to brush against her to stir the pleasure simmering just under the surface.
He withdrew his finger and smacked her bottom again, holding nothing back from the force of his swing. She shrieked like a terrified ghost.
She ached to open her legs and have his hardness fill that empty place inside of her.
With the blacksmith, she’d wanted to know what sex felt like. With Thorvald, she wanted him. How she could hate a man with such burning, bubbling vitriol and still be so desperate to impale herself upon him made no sense, but Alodie was past rationality. Whatever her life had become, she was going to take this now. It was hers because she wanted it.
“Enough, please, I beg you, Thorvald. Enough.”
For the first time, Alodie was not questioning herself when she thought of Thorvald as a man.
He said nothing. He simply put her on her feet, stood, and pushed her back down on the bed. Below her body, the furs were soft and fine. Thorvald was upon her in a flash, his kisses hungry and urgent and desperate upon her mouth as he pushed up her skirts. He slid himself down and pushed open her legs so he could look between them.
His eyes glazed with pleasure. “I’ve dreamed of tasting you.” With a strange tenderness he’d not displayed previously, he nuzzled his nose in the hair and inhaled.
Then he began working her with his mouth.
It was nothing like she’d ever imagined a man and woman would do together.
When he began kissing and sucking,
all thoughts vanished. She was nothing but a receptacle for pleasure and the sensations built quickly.
He pushed her higher and higher. Alodie was reaching for what she knew was possible but didn’t believe could ever happen again. Beauty like that couldn’t happen twice in a lifetime. Reaching and reaching and reaching. It was so near and so far away. How much more of this could she take?
Then…it happened.
In one sweeping moment, her back arched and she burst like a heavenly body, spilling fire and light out through every glimmering fiber of her limbs. It was better this time. Stronger. The awareness drawn-out, tingling.
She was slowly drifting back, recovering with heavy breaths, when it all changed again.
He sat back long enough to tear away his belt, pull up his tunic, and push down the waist of his trousers to expose the length of his cock. Long, thick, and wholly erect.
He grinned wickedly at her. “Still think you can take me?”
“I will die if I don’t.”
With a growl, he pressed his body upon hers. The pressure of his weight could have sent her spiraling into the abyss all over again.
“I need to feel you moving under me.” He pinned her down. “Tell me this is all right.”
“It’s all right.”
“If you want to stop—”
“I don’t. Oh heaven help me, but I don’t.”
“Alodie…”
“I give myself to you.” The tip of him pressed against her entryway. Her breath caught. Holy Lord, forgive me this—
Their bodies began to join.
“Oh.” She tensed as he slid inside of her.
“You’re beautiful, princess.” He kissed her with rough urgency, pushing himself deeper and deeper.
Alodie had believed herself prepared. She wasn’t. She wasn’t fueled by curiosity, or as frightened of what she was doing as she was aroused.
No. The physical process itself might have been the same, but with Thorvald, it was different. It wasn’t simply a test of how a man’s part would feel. She was entrusting herself to him. It was a completion, of sorts. Everything she’d never known she needed.