The Viking Wants Forever (19 page)

“What does
what
mean?”

Reese frowned at his method of avoiding the obvious. “Why are you giving me to him when you fought to keep me for yourself?”

“It is not your place to question my motives.”

Irritation bubbled to the surface. “It is when you just warned me about him.”

Eyes narrowed, Bjarni glared at Eirik. “You warned her about me?”

“Choose!” Eirik barked, ignoring him and heightening her suspicions.

“I wonder...” Reese edged over to Bjarni and pressed herself against his back. As if hit by an electrical shock, he jerked and then made a slight strangling sound. She disregarded him, after all he was only a means to an end, and continued to bait Eirik, “Do you really want me to choose this beautiful Viking?”

He answered her with a dark glower.

Going in for the kill, Reese wrapped her arms around Bjarni’s waist, earning herself a gurgled ‘yes’. “Aren’t you afraid I could like his cock as much as yours? Want him more than once...more than you.”

“Choose, wench.” So far he’d spoken in an agreeably soft tone, but this was stated quite firmly. He was determined to see this through.

And so was she. “I will
if
you tell me why?” To sweeten the incentive, Reese trailed her hand down Bjarni’s rock-hard abs.

When Eirik remained silent, her hand drifted lower. 

“He. Lost. A. Wager,” Bjarni choked out.

Finally getting somewhere, Reese threaded her fingers into the crisp hairs surrounding her hostage’s groin, causing him to groan in torment.

“I told him—”

Eirik lurched to his feet. “BJARNI!”

You’ve got to better than that, Viking!
 Reese tiptoed her fingers lower, stopping just above his manhood.

“I wagered I could help him woo you, win you over,” Bjarni gushed as a shudder racked his powerful frame. “I succeeded and earned a night with you.”

Shocked, Reese instantly released her hostage, and then took a couple of seconds to process Bjarni’s confession. Both Vikings watched and waited. “Is this true?” she finally asked.

Cheeks now flaming red, Eirik raked a hand through his hair. “I made the wager because I did not think he could help.”

“He made the wager because he was desperate.” Bjarni placed his hand over his heart. “And the good friend that I am, I came to his rescue.”

Obviously happy with framing the situation to his advantage, Bjarni stretched his legs out in front of him and closed his eyes while Eirik silently shot daggers in his back.

Reese never liked throwing anyone under the bus and she damn sure didn’t like when it happened to others. “Leave.” 

Eirik grabbed Bjarni in a chokehold. Taken by surprise, the other Viking could do nothing but hold on for dear life as he was pulled from the shallow pool.

“Oh my,” Reese whispered. Penis limp between his legs and turning a violent shade of purple, Bjarni could give the gum-chewing Violet Beauregard a run for her money.

“Wait!” Bjarni wheezed. “She did not choose.”

Eirik, playing deaf and dumb, continued to drag Bjarni toward the door. Taking pity on him, she called out, “Wait. Let him go.”

Now the daggers were reserved for only her. “But you wanted him gone,” Eirik snarled.

“I do, but you and I both know we need to settle this now or he’ll keep after you to honor the wager. And it’s my behind on the line not yours.”

“So be it.” He loosened his grip and the dark Viking slumped to his knees. Clasping the other man’s shoulders, Eirik leaned down and pressed his lips to Bjarni’s ear. A beat passed and then he opened his mouth, baring white teeth. Reese’s heart beat violently.
He was so not going to go Mike Tyson on him!

“Will you still want payment?”

Bjarni, still gasping for air, lifted his gaze. His eyes reddened and slightly unfocused, landed on her while a crooked smile curled his swollen lips. “
Ja,”
he croaked. “Every time I look at her, I will want to bed her.”

Clearly disgruntled by the man’s sentiment, Eirik flexed his hands, his fingers biting into Bjarni’s skin. His blue eyes bored into her. “Before I kill him, choose.”

Reese almost wanted to laugh. Back home she could barely get a date. Now she had two, very hot Vikings lusting after her. She needed to relish the moment.

“What’s your favorite position?”

In need of guidance, Bjarni glanced at Eirik. Not getting any, he abandoned that avenue. “My favorite position?” he asked, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously.

Reese rested her arms on the pool’s edge. “When you’re with a woman, how do you like to...you know?”

A lusty gleam twinkled in Bjarni’s dark eyes. “If the woman is you, I would—”

“Stop these games and choose, wench!”

Reese pretended to clutch a pair of pearls. “You don’t have to call names.” In the face of Eirik’s deepening glower, she plastered on a saccharine smile. “Well, someone’s a sore sport.”

Straightening up, only slightly, Reese pointed at Bjarni. “Eeny,” and then at Eirik, “meeny,” and back again, “miny, moe,” on an operatic note, “my mama said to choose the very best one. And you—”

Eirik growled.

Before he ate them both, Reese came clean, “Bjarni...you are
not
the one I choose.”

Eirik slammed Bjarni’s clothes in his chest. “Leave.
Now
.”

With one last wink, Bjarni left them alone. Before the door closed behind him, Eirik was already removing his clothes. Silently, Reese watched him. The man was so perfectly formed, he made her teeth ache.

How could she have ever assumed, even for the briefest second, that Bjarni was just as handsome as Eirik? The dark Viking couldn’t hold a candle to the warrior standing in front of her. Mayhap, her feelings for him made her more than a tad bit biased.

Reese gulped. There was that word again. Feelings. She couldn’t be falling in love with him. No way. No how. And yet...she kept thinking about a future with him.

“Eeny meeny miny.” As he stalked toward her, the water rippled around his lean hips. “I felt like strangling you.” He slid his hand around her neck, and pulled her up against him. Reese gasped when his free hand settled on the rise of her belly and then dipped lower. “But you choose me, and all I want to do is bury myself inside you.”

He ran his thumb along her slit, parting her nether lips. Moaning, Reese closed her eyes as he flicked her clit back and forth and then rolled the throbbing button between his thumb and index finger.

He leaned into her, his cheek grazing hers. He hadn’t shaved during the past week, so he’d grown a pretty impressive beard. With a fetish for hipsters, his whiskers rubbed her the right way, and a shiver rippled down her spine.

“Your nipples are peaked and ready to be suckled. And my hand is already coated with your juices,” he remarked matter-of-factly, as if describing the finer points of ice fishing. “Would you have been this responsive with Bjarni?”

“No.” She rocked her sex against his hand.

“Why,” he whispered and then nibbled on her earlobe.

“Because you’re the only person that does it for me.” Her voice was hushed, her mouth only inches from his. “Kiss me.”

“Where?”

Reese wrapped her hand around the hand between her legs. “Here.”

His hands spanned her waist, and with barely any effort, he lifted her onto his shoulders. He buried himself inside her before he said on a rushed breath, “Cannot wait to taste you.”

And holding her firmly between his large hands, he dove in.

The position alone almost made Reese cum. Light-headed, she linked her fingers behind his neck and held on.

He alternated between rimming her and sucking her clit with both skill and a paralyzing energy. He nuzzled his stubble over the swollen button, circling in languorous circles, and her lips parted around shallow breaths. She’d never tingled like this in her fingers and toes. She was practically trembling with pleasure.

“So sweet and all mine.” He used his thumbs to open her like a flower, then thrust his tongue inside. Between lusty licks, he murmured, “I plan on eating your quim until it quivers and pours its honey all over my tongue.”

“Almost there,” she moaned as her thighs clutched his shoulders, and her hands grasped handfuls of his hair. Her hips ground against his lips, moving in a feverish rhythm, her murmurs were softly pleading, “So close...,” He speared her with his tongue. With each thrust, a powerful need clawed at her insides. “Eirik I’m so close,” she implored. The pressure of his warm mouth and wicked tongue so intense and riveting, the entire focus of her life was momentarily in his hands.

Quivering on the orgasmic brink, the pulsing in her sex spread all over her body. She stretched her thighs wider, opening her body to even deeper penetration.

“Yes!” she cried out, coming almost immediately, shooting her juices onto Eirik’s lapping tongue.

Heart thundering in her ears, Reese felt him unhook her legs from around his shoulders. Limp as a noodle, and thankful for the support of his hands cradling her bottom, she slowly slid down his body.

“Now it’s my turn.” He plowed her with a mind-jarring, upward thrust. Slick with come, her sheath accommodated him easily as he dropped and lifted her onto him.

“Touch me,” he whispered against her lips. “Touch me like you never want me to let you go.”

A mixture of desire and angst, his expression sparked a like response in Reese. Mind already reeling at the implication in his word, she threw herself into his arms, melding their bodies together. As he continued to drive into her, she ran her hands over every accessible inch.

Emotions she’d disdained for common sense overpowered her. She swooned with confusion, her thoughts tangled. Her mind losing the battle over her heart. Her hands framed his face, forcing him to look at her. Their eyes met and his look seemed to convey everything she was wrestling with.

How could she ever return home when she could not bring herself to steal the black tourmaline from the man she loved?

“I
s it necessary for me to put all of this on just to go down to the docks?” Reese, pouting like a five year-old, refused to hold still as Eirik shoved a pair of fox-trimmed gloves over her hands. Underneath a long-sleeved wool smock with attached apron, he’d insisted on not one but two pairs of wool braies. “It’s barely snowing outside, and you’re acting like its 1993’s Storm of the Century.”

Reese tensed. Over the past four short weeks, she’d become a professional at not alluding to her past, or in her case, her future. Every now and then she would slip up, and every time she would have to come up with some elaborate lie, which she hated doing.

Thankfully, Eirik hadn’t noticed. Too preoccupied with dressing her, he was rummaging through a trunk. When he emerged, he held a beautiful green cloak trimmed in the same fox fur as the gloves. Unquestionably feminine and way too small for his powerful physique, the garments had not been made for him.

Interest piqued and more than a little green around the gills, Reese changed the subject to something more pertinent. “Nice duds. Where did you get them? Do they belong to a former lover?”

“Does it matter?” he asked irritably.

“It does matter. I don’t want to wear some other woman’s clothes if she was someone you had feelings for,” Reese charged, tugging the gloves off and throwing them onto the floor at his feet.

Eirik rolled his eyes heavenward. “Can you for once hold your tongue? I swear you try a man’s patience!” he growled, stooping down and snatching the gloves off the floor. When he straightened, he did not move to put them back on her; he slapped them against his thigh as he regarded her.

“Instead of thanking me for such fine gifts, you ask me whether or not they belong to someone else, specifically someone I held dear.” Hands on hips, his eyes narrowed. “Mayhap someone is jealous because they have feelings for me.”

And just like that the room suddenly became charged with an odd undercurrent—an air of anticipation—that made her heart do backflips.

She would have to be heartless not to have feelings for him. Even though her status as a slave had not changed, he didn’t treat her like one. Her kitchen duties were now voluntary, and she was allowed to move about like a free woman.

What they did beneath the bed furs was also a contributing factor. A demanding lover, Eirik made her crave him. In turn he wasn’t the only one who instigated when and where they made love. Just yesterday, she’d cornered him in the larder and earned herself a wallbanger.

“Wolf got your tongue?” he smiled and it took every last bit of will Reese possessed to remain where she was and not throw herself into his arms. She was head over heels in love with him, but for now she would keep that to herself. She didn’t need emotions to hinder her progress.

“You see too much, Viking.” Reese was proud of the way her voice remained even, not giving anything away. “I’m simply wondering if there’s competition.”

“Competition? I moved you into my bedchamber. Every night you sleep in my bed. We share the same trencher at meal times and you wonder if there is any competition?”

Reese stomped over to the chest and threw open the lid. “Then why keep a trunk filled with women’s clothes?”

Eirik sat down on the bed and looked down at the gloves, fingering them. “They were made for Oona Sigurðardóttir, my betrothed. I had them made, like I built this house for her. When I went to collect her, I learned she’d played me false, used me to sweeten her prospects. She married the king’s cousin—someone richer and not a bastard.”

Reese stuck out her tongue and made a farting sound. “Where I come from being a bastard isn’t a big deal.”

“Wish I hailed from there. Life would have been so much easier.”

“And still you’ve done quite well for yourself. Your lands extend for miles beyond the bay.  You have a beautiful home. Your people love and respect you. Would you appreciate your hard- fought gains if they’d been handed to you at birth?”

“I did not gain what I most desired.” He dropped his chin in his hand and sighed loudly.

“Oona,” Reese whispered barely working her tongue around the sour taste in her mouth.