Enthralled: Viking Lore, Book 1 (21 page)

Something that sounded
close to a growl escaped his throat. His cock was now straining against his
pants. Laurel’s hip was nestled along his pelvis so that with each one of her
little shifts and twitches, she rubbed his length in unconscious seduction.

He matched the motions
of his tongue to how he had licked and caressed her sex five nights ago. She
moaned again, and her leg drifted up to brush the outside of his left thigh in
invitation. He moved his sore arm down so that he could cup her sex in his
hand. He could feel how hot and wet it was even through her shift. She ground
herself against his hand.

“Do you remember what
my fingers felt like?” he breathed against her lips. She nodded, her eyes
fluttering over him. They were almost black in the dim light from the embers.

“And do you remember
what my tongue felt like?” She moaned as her eyes closed again and her body
arched against his cupping hand.

“Do you want more?”

She sank her teeth into
her bottom lip as her hips moved in a little circle, pressing into both his
hand and his aching cock.

“Aye,” she panted.

“I need to see you.”

Her eyes fluttered open
again, and a glimmer of confusion shone through the hungry desire. He tried to
move his hurt arm across their bodies to undo her other shoulder strap, but he
halted halfway, wincing in pain. She made a sound of understanding and gave him
a little nudge backward so that he was partially propped up on the bed’s
headboard once more. Then she stood from the bed and gazed down at him.

With her eyes locked on
his, she reached for the other pin holding her shoulder strap. She unfastened
it and pulled the woolen overdress down the length of her body. As the fabric
bunched and slid, he was treated to the view of first her curving breasts, then
her narrow waist, and finally her gently flaring hips before the material fell
lifeless to the floor.

With the
still-smoldering embers behind her, he could faintly make out her rosy nipples
and the dark hair between her legs as she stood before him in her shift. She
bent for a moment to clasp the hem. Then slowly, one inch at a time, her skin
was exposed to his eyes.

He held his breath as
the shift brushed past her calves, then her knees. Her thighs glowed red-gold
in the light of the embers. The hem hugged her shapely hips for a moment before
sliding past them. His gaze was riveted on the apex of her legs for one breath,
erotic thoughts of touching, tasting, delving into her there roaring through
his mind.

Her arms drew over her
head and her flat, smooth stomach came into view. Then the faint shadows
underneath her breasts appeared. The linen shift whispered over the swells of
her breasts, snagging for the briefest moment on her hard nipples. Suddenly her
hair cascaded down around her shoulders as her head came free of the shift.

Eirik’s head spun as he
gazed at her hungrily. He was greedy for the sight of her. Every inch of her
pale skin, warmed by the light of the dying fire, captivated him. His stomach
clenched in anticipation of what they were about to share.

He reached for his
tunic but had to stop when his left shoulder twinged in pain. “Will you help
me?”

She stepped forward and
leaned over him, her breasts coming closer to his face. Her hair spilled over
one shoulder and tickled his chest. Her fingers reached for his tunic and
brushed his swollen cock. He sucked in a breath at the contact.

“Did I hurt you?” she
asked, freezing.

“Nei,” he bit out.
“Well, ja, actually. You torture me with your beauty, Laurel. And your touch is
driving me to the brink of madness.”

She blinked at him, but
then a little smile played at the corners of her mouth. “That sounds terrible.
Do you wish me to stop?”

“Nei,” he groaned.
Leave it to the ever-serious Laurel to tease and find humor in a moment like
this. As she eased his tunic up his torso and over his good shoulder, he added,
“You, too, know something of this wondrous torture, don’t you?”

She blushed and the
smile spread on her face. “Aye, I am feeling it now.”

She slipped the tunic
over his head and then carefully worked it down his injured shoulder and arm.
She stood back for a moment, her dark eyes riveted on his bare chest. His cock
pulsed under her gaze. He was glad his form gave her as much pleasure as hers
gave him.

Her hands skimmed over
his chest and along his ridged stomach. He held his breath and gritted his
teeth at her feather-light touch. He wanted more contact, but he had to give
her time to explore and test her instincts.

Her fingers stopped at
the top of his linen pants, and he had to bite back a curse at the proximity to
his needy cock. She slowly undid the tie there and parted the material
slightly. As she eased the pants down his hips, he clenched his jaw, his cock
rubbing against the linen.

Suddenly his cock
sprang free and she gasped as he groaned at the abrupt freedom. But then his
eyes flickered down to her and the ache deepened, for her gaze was locked on
his manhood, her lips parted in surprise. She unconsciously licked her lips
,
and he wondered for the first time in his life if
it was possible for a man to lose his seed without even being touched.

There was so much he
wanted to do with her, so much he wanted to show her. But they had time, he
reminded himself. This was only the first of many nights of pleasure.

“Lift, please,” she
said as the pants got stuck against the bed. Using his good leg as a support,
he thrust his hips upward. It didn’t help him maintain his hold on the need
pounding through his veins in the least.

She eased the linen
over his wounded leg and he had to hold his breath again to keep the pain at
bay. All this moving was difficult, even with the haze of lust settled over his
limbs. He felt his first flicker of doubt about whether he should be engaging
in these intimacies with Laurel. What if the pain was too great? Could he even
move properly to bring them both pleasure?

Then a new idea came to
him, filling his mind with erotic images.

“I don’t think I
can...take you on your back,” he said.

Her gaze flickered
between his eyes and his rigid cock, which was standing up from between his
legs.

Her eyes widened. “But
how else…” Even in the low light, her deep blush was visible.

He took her wrist and
gently drew her back down so that she sat on the edge of the bed facing him. He
let his hands skim over her skin, brushing her shoulders and down her arms,
feathering his fingers along her back. She shivered and closed her eyes.

“There are many ways,
Laurel,” he breathed, his palms sweeping against her nipples. He moved lower to
trace his fingertips down her stomach. Then he wrapped his hands around her
hips. He lifted her slightly and guided her over him. To accommodate his
movement, she had to lift one of her legs over his hips to avoid his wounded
thigh.

“Oh,” she gasped as it
became clear to her what he was doing. She now straddled him, with his erect
cock jutting between them.

Before she could blush
in embarrassment again, he reached between her legs and brushed the damp seam
of her sex. She gasped again at the contact and unconsciously parted her legs a
little more around his hips.

“You’re so wet for me,”
he gritted. He parted her folds and found that pulsing spot of a woman’s
pleasure. She moaned and her head fell back. To keep herself upright, she
propped her hands on his chest. As he slowly circled his finger against her
clitoris, her hands turned into talons, clawing at his chest and stomach. He
reveled in the sensation, knowing that his touch drove her mindless with
pleasure.

He doubted she realized
it, but her hips were beginning to twitch and shift. Clenching his stomach, he
pulled himself close enough to flick his tongue over one beaded nipple. She
jerked and arched at the contact. He licked again and this time was rewarded
with a roll of her hips against his hand.

“That’s it,” he
breathed. She was finding her rhythm, letting her instincts drive her toward
pleasure. Given how she was raised, he was awe-struck by the well of passion
deep within her. It was as if they had been meant to share their bodies, their
desires, their pleasures, all along.

He lowered himself back
so that he was half-propped against the headboard once more. He returned his
hands to her hips, grasping her hard, letting his fingers dig into her yielding
flesh. He shifted her slightly forward so that her sex pinned his manhood to
his lower stomach. Then he slid her wet folds up the length of his cock.

This time he didn’t
manage to repress the curse that rose to his lips. The feel of her warm sex,
its wetness gliding along him, the sight of her straddling him—it was all too
much. He nearly lost himself after that one touch.

He guided her down and
back up his length, feasting his eyes on her high, round breasts, her spread
legs, and the folds of her sex as they slid along his cock.

She was panting hard,
her hips beginning to move of their own accord. He couldn’t take any more of
this exquisite agony.

“I need you—now,” he
growled. He clutched her hips and lifted her off his length long enough to
position his cock at the entrance of her sex. She inhaled as the tip of his
manhood found her opening. He froze, his fingers digging into her hips.

Laurel’s eyes fluttered
open and found his at his sudden halt. Though their dark depths were hazy with
passion, he saw a flicker of clarity cross them. She gave him a little nod.

With all his control,
he moved an inch inside her. He clenched his teeth against the
nigh-overpowering urge to thrust all the way in. Her wetness allowed him to
glide another hair’s breadth, but she was so tight. This was going to hurt her,
but he swore to himself that he would give her pleasure once the necessary pain
had passed.

In one swift movement,
he pulled down on her hips, thrusting himself fully inside her. He heard
himself groan in ecstasy, but the noise was drowned out by her own cry. He
forced himself to loosen his grip on her hips so that she could pull back
slightly to ease the pain.

“I’m sorry, Laurel,” he
bit out. “The pain will soon be gone.”

He thrust into her once
more, the tightness nearly driving him mad. She slumped forward over his chest,
her arms going limp. A sound that was a cross between a moan of pleasure and a
whimper escaped her. He strained his neck forward so that he could capture one
of her nipples in his mouth, laving it.

Her hips twitched
slightly, so he withdrew and re-entered her again. This time, with his cock
buried inside her and his tongue laving her nipple, the sound she made was more
pleasure than pain. With each one of his slow thrusts and flicks of his tongue,
her breathing increased and her back arched a little more.

At last, he felt the
telltale roll of her hips. She wanted more. She began matching his rhythm,
meeting his thrusts and arching into him. He struggled not to lose himself. Not
yet. Not until he heard her cries of pleasure, felt her pulse around him.

He moved his mouth to
her other breast, giving it the same attention as the first. Now her fingers
were once again digging into his flesh as their bodies pulsed and drove
together. Her dark hair spilled all around him like a veil, surrounding him
with her scent.

He wasn’t going to make
it. It was all too much. Just as he felt his control slipping, her breath
hitched and caught in her throat. Her fingers flexed and clawed reflexively and
her back arched even more. A wordless cry of ecstasy rose from her throat, and
she squeezed around his cock.

His last thread of
control shredded in an instant. He bellowed out his own pleasure as wave upon
wave of sensation crashed over him. He felt himself erupt deep within her,
spending himself. As he spiraled down through the pleasure, their breaths
mingled.

He slowed their rhythm
but stayed buried within her until the last quakes of ecstasy had finally
faded. She slumped all the way down onto his chest, fully spent. He gently
eased her to his side so that he could tuck her under his good shoulder.

“I am no longer a
maiden,” Laurel said quietly after a long silence, her voice unreadable.

“Nei, you are not.” He
looked down at her for a hint of her emotions, but her face was obscured against
his chest.

“I am going to be a
wife.”

“Does that please you,
Laurel?” he asked, suddenly fearing that she was having regrets. “Do…do
I
please you?”

She lifted her head so
that he could fully see her face. Tears shone in her eyes, but they were tears
of happiness.

“Oh, aye,” she said,
her face splitting into a smile more radiant than the sun.

He pulled her to him
and kissed her until they were both laughing against the other’s lips. She
settled her head back onto his chest and sighed contentedly. Soon her breaths
fell into the easy rhythm of sleep.

Eirik forced himself to
stay awake. Though sleep called, he didn’t want to miss any of this moment. He
was going to be married to the strong, smart, good woman lying next to him. And
it wasn’t an arranged marriage, as he’d always expected to be wrangled into
some day. This was a marriage of—was there any other word for it than love?
Nei, he loved Laurel. A powerful surge went through him at the acknowledgment.
When she woke, he’d tell her. Then he’d speak with his uncle and make sure
Laurel’s fate was safe. After that he’d have to see about getting the
goði
down from the mountains by Frigga’s Day.