There was no chance to ask him what he meant by that as he brought his lips to hers in a kiss that caught her completely off guard. He was surprisingly tender. She parted her lips, and his tongue swept into her mouth and made a gentle exploration. Ytha wound her arms around his neck, trying to draw him closer, but he pulled back.
“Remove your dress,” he commanded. “Show me this blemish on your perfect skin.”
Eager to please him, Ytha sat up, wincing at the movement. How could she have forgotten the ache in her bottom? There was a numbness there now, but when the pallet beneath her pressed upon her well-chastised flesh, it sent pain juddering through her body. Taking a breath, she lifted her hips and brought her dress and the shift beneath it up over her head in one swift movement. She had no stockings on, and sitting there completely naked before her husband for the first time, she blushed. Would he find her pleasing? She could not bring herself to look up into his eyes to find out.
His fingers traced around the outline of the mark that tarnished her. His touch was so gentle, she almost didn’t feel it. Her skin tingled beneath the light brush of his fingertips. He placed a kiss at the centre of the purple mark that almost brought a tear to her eye. Then he sat back from her and sighed.
“I am not a kind and loving man, little Pict.”
A protest against that nonsense lay on the tip of Ytha’s tongue. His actions a mere moment ago told her he was capable of great tenderness.
“But I want you,” he continued. “Do you accept me?”
“Aye,” Ytha said with a smile. “I accept you, Viking.”
Garth blew out a long, slow breath of relief. He was not sure why it mattered so much to him to have her consent, but he wanted it desperately. He was a man who was used to taking whatever he desired, but this woman was his wife. Although that gave him certain unquestionable rights over her body, the thought of forcing himself upon her was repugnant to him. He wanted a willing participant to fuck, not some damsel who lay weeping while he selfishly took his pleasure from her.
“Help me out of these clothes,” he instructed.
Making a face that told him she was feeling a little stiff and sore, Ytha got up onto her knees. She grasped the hem of his tunic and helped him to pull it off over his head. His bare torso revealed, she gave a murmur of appreciation, and his chest swelled with pride. Women tended to respond well to his body. Like his fellow warriors, he was muscular from hours of training for battle. There was a deep tan in his skin where it had been exposed to the sun during their travels. The way his new wife glanced away shyly and bit her bottom lip confirmed to Garth that she liked what she saw. She held her hands up for a moment as though she might touch him but seemed to think better of it.
Shaking, her fingers moved to the fastenings of his loose leather trousers. It pleased him that she seemed unaccustomed to undressing a man. He had not had any expectation that his new bride would be a virgin, but he preferred that she was not practised in the seductive arts. He cupped his hand beneath her chin and nodded encouragingly. She unlaced his trousers to free his turgid manhood and made a sound he was familiar with—a gasp of utter disbelief. The gods had bestowed a gift upon him and, when Ytha gazed up at him with wide eyes, he knew she was impressed by his size.
“Fear not, little Pict, you will be able to take all of me,” he assured her.
A small, unconvincing squeak showed her doubt, but she didn’t try to deny him. In fact, as he stood to remove his trousers and boots, Ytha lay back on the bed and opened her legs for him. He made a twirling motion with his finger, to indicate she should lie on her stomach. He wasn’t sure why, but he wasn’t ready to take her face to face. It was too intimate, he supposed, like a declaration of feelings he did not yet have for her. The furrowing of her brow told him she had not understood the instruction.
“Turn over,” he said, impatience making him sound more abrupt than he’d intended. “Get on your hands and knees.”
Confusion flashed in her eyes, but then she smiled and rolled over, onto her stomach. She placed her hands above her head and then pushed back to raise herself onto her knees. Her movements were slow, deliberate, feline in their grace. The position might not be what he’d intended, but she gave the appearance of bowing in supplication, and he found he liked that better. Garth took a moment to appreciate her innate elegance before climbing onto the bed behind her.
He leaned over and kissed her neck. She tasted sweet, like the lingonberries that were so abundant back in his homeland. He sat back on his heels and trailed his hands down the length of her body. Soft skin covered subtle curves. She quivered beneath his touch. Garth reached under her, to cup her breasts in his hands. Round and full, they were a perfect fit for his palms. He took her nipples between his fingers and teased them, pulling and squeezing until they formed hard peaks. Then he pinched while she moaned with desperate desire. Continuing to play gently with one breast, he ran his other hand down to her bottom. The skin was tinged with a vibrant pink hue. The thought of her cries when he’d thrashed her with the belt stiffened his cock. He had to get a grip, or he was going to spill his seed before he even got inside her.
Garth slipped his hand between Ytha’s legs. He ran his fingers along her feminine slit and was surprised to find her slick and ready for him. It seemed this new wife of his was incredibly responsive to his touch. He took hold of her hip and positioned his cock to slide an inch or so inside her. She was deliciously tight, but he was sure she was not a virgin. He was glad, though, that she was sopping wet as it would ease the discomfort for her when he pushed all the way in. He held her steady, allowing her time to adjust to the penetration, and she whimpered and rocked back. To oblige her unspoken demands, he drove into her with one brutal thrust. Her pussy immediately clamped around his shaft, and she shuddered. His earlier assessment was correct. She liked to play rough. He groaned loudly but held himself still. Ytha wriggled her hips.
“Garth,” she begged, looking over her shoulder at him with a hooded gaze. “Please.”
“Please, what, little one?”
“Please move.”
“Move?” he could not resist teasing her, just a little. “What do you mean? You wish me to leave you alone?”
“No, I want you to fuck me,” she said quietly.
“What was that?”
“Fuck me,” she said, a hint of aggression in her tone. “Please, Garth, make me yours.”
“As you wish.”
Slowly, he withdrew from her before slamming back into her snug channel. He enjoyed the slapping of his flesh on her reddened bottom and the low groan she gave at the reminder of the thrashing she’d endured.
“One day I will take this pretty arse of yours,” he said, thrusting even harder. “Would you like that?”
“Yes,” Ytha moaned.
Fisting his hand in her hair, he pulled so her head was drawn right back. He took an animalistic delight in seeing her throat exposed. She was vulnerable to him, and he liked that more than he should. As he pounded into her, she whimpered and groaned. She pressed back against him, demanding more. Garth reached under her belly and slipped his hand down between her legs, finding the pulsing bud of her femininity. He took the sensitive nub and applied a steadily increasing pressure.
Ytha cried out. She clawed frantically at the fur covering on the bed, the sounds of her pleasure growing. Her pussy clenched, and she screamed out her release. Garth followed her a moment later, his seed spilling inside her. She winced noticeably when he withdrew from her, and he knew she was sore. But, her shy glance back at him confirmed what he already knew—she had enjoyed their fucking every bit as much as he had.
3
Garth dropped down onto the bed next to her, and Ytha rolled over onto her side to study him carefully. It took her a few moments to recover herself. She had never experienced anything like the pure ecstasy his skilful touch had brought her. Suddenly, she felt incredibly lucky to have been matched with Garth. He was an extremely fine specimen of mascu
linity. Feeling a little bolder with him than she had before, she ran her hand across his chest, marvelling at the tautness of the muscles that lay beneath his lightly tanned skin. As she examined him closely, she found a nasty scar on his left side and several smaller scars on his arms and torso. They told the story of a man used to battle.
“That was not your first time,” Garth said.
It was a statement of fact rather than a question.
“No, it wasn’t,” Ytha said defensively. Had he expected her to be untouched? “Nor was it yours.”
He barked out a laugh, and she breathed a sigh of relief that it did not seem he was angry about her not being a virgin.
“Indeed not, but I was not sure what to expect from you,” he said. “You have certainly not been with many men.”
“Only one man.”
“I thought so.”
Was there some slight in his words? She wondered whether he was disappointed in her lack of experience. Perhaps there were tricks other women knew that she did not.
“I did not please you?” Hurt crept into her tone.
“You pleased me,” he confirmed. “And what of you? Did your husband please you?”
“Yes, that was much better than before.”
There must have been something about the way she spoke that sparked concern in Garth. He sat up and looked down at her with a frown.
“Did some man hurt you?”
Ytha was surprised by the anger in his voice. It seemed odd to her that he should be so worried that she might have been harmed in the past when only an hour or so earlier he’d wanted nothing to do with her. Perhaps what she’d heard about these Vikings was correct. They were ridiculously protective of those they felt some responsibility for.
“No, he didn’t hurt me. He just didn’t know what he was doing.” Ytha could not help but smile fondly, remembering how Giric, a lad she’d met when travelling with Nessa, had slobbered all over her like a puppy. “He was tender, but it was…uhm…”
“Unsatisfying.”
Yes, that was precisely the word she’d been searching for. She had been left wondering what it was that all the older women in the village huddled together to giggle about. Now she had been fucked by a man like Garth, she finally knew why they made so much fuss over it.
“He could not have liked it much either,” Ytha said, screwing up her nose. “He did not want to do it again.”
“Then he was a fool,” Garth said with a derisive snort. “Now that I have had you, I will never have my fill.”
She blushed at his words, but when Garth took her hand and guided it down to his fully erect cock, she could not doubt his sincerity. She could not believe he was hard again. Had she not heard that men needed time to recover after they had spilled their seed? His cock twitched beneath her touch, and she bit her bottom lip. She was sore and was sure she would not survive being taken so soon after the last time. Seeming to read her thoughts, Garth shook his head.
“It matters not,” he assured her. “I know that you are feeling tender.”
His considerate words flew in the face of everything she had heard about his people. They were supposed to be hard, unforgiving. These men were reputed to take what they wanted and to hell with those they hurt along the way. Yet, here he was, foregoing his own pleasure so she would not feel discomfort. She was sure, though, that she’d detected a little disappointment in his voice. She might not have much experience, but she was not totally uneducated when it came to men. There were other ways she might bring him pleasure.
Taking a deep breath to dispel her nerves, she placed her hand on his chest and shoved him hard, so he fell back onto the bed. His eyes widened, but before he could challenge her actions, she moved to position herself between his legs. She smiled at the way Garth’s brow creased in confusion and made a careful study of his shaft. It was long and wide with thick veins on its underside. The head was a reddish purple, and there was a bead of moisture pooled right at the tip. She tentatively reached out a hand and cupped his balls. The softness of the skin that covered them surprised her.
Ytha licked her lips and lowered her head to run her tongue around the head of his cock. It was completely different to what she’d imagined. There was a slightly salty taste to the drops of fluid she captured on her tongue. She tried not to let Garth see that she was completely unsure how to do this as she opened her lips and took him into her mouth. She flicked her tongue out to explore him more and then sucked lightly while pulling back.
“Again,” Garth instructed.
Ytha did as she was told, taking him deeper this time. She bobbed her head, finding a rhythm and his cock glided back and forth over her tongue.
The moans of pleasure coming from her husband spurred her on, but it seemed her efforts were not quite enough for Garth. Putting a hand behind her head, he held her in place to thrust in and out between her lips. Panic rose in Ytha when it became harder to breathe. She shot her hands out to grab his thighs. As she dug her nails into his skin, Garth fucked her mouth.
“You are doing well,” he soothed her. “Try to breathe easy.”
Ytha attempted to relax but, his cock swelled and her eyes widened in fear. A moment later, Garth shuddered and came. She sat back on her heels, his seed dribbling from her mouth. She wiped her chin with the back of her hand.
“Try to swallow next time,” Garth advised.
Deflated, Ytha nodded and bowed her head. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she didn’t want to cry. Bad enough that she had failed as a wife without him thinking she was an emotional fool on top of everything else. Ytha got up from the bed and bent over to pick up her dress. Without warning, Garth’s palm smacked across her inflamed bottom. She yelped and turned to find him grinning at her.
“Make me something to eat, wife,” he commanded.
Ytha clutched her dress to her bosom and nodded eagerly. Making a meal for him was something she knew she could do well.
What she lacked in finesse, his little Pict more than made up for in enthusiasm. Garth could not ask for more. Technique could be learned, but a genuine eagerness to please was something that clearly came naturally to her. He watched Ytha slipping her clothes on then bustling around the room. She lit the fire and fetched a cooking pot. He thought about the rabbits he had caught earlier which would make an excellent meal. Getting out of the bed, he pulled on his trousers before padding outside, barefoot, to collect the rabbits while Ytha prepared some vegetables.
The moment he stepped out into the open air, a light drizzle of rain fell on his skin. He glanced up to where the clouds had darkened. His wife, it seemed, was right about the change in the weather. He retrieved the rabbits and took them inside.
“Here, you can cook these.”
He handed the rabbits he had not yet skinned and gutted, to Ytha. She took them eagerly, and he went back outside to gather the rest of his things. As always, he had travelled light, but he had brought a few items of clothing, some furs, and several finely crafted weapons with him. He also had several pieces of intricately designed jewellery that had belonged to his mother. As eldest son, he had been given them when she’d died, and they should, by rights, go to his new wife.
Garth did not feel ready to present them to her yet so wrapped the box that contained them up with his other belongings. Taking them inside, he placed them on top of the trunk at the foot of Ytha’s bed. He looked around the room, which was fairly sparse.
“You need better furniture,” he commented. “I shall build some.”
“As you wish, husband.”
As he wished. He liked the sound of that. He took a seat by the fire and watched Ytha making quick work of gutting and skinning the rabbits. He was impressed by her efficiency when she broke the creatures down for cooking. She threw the pieces into the pot along with the vegetables she’d prepared and some herbs and stirred it for a few moments. Then she got up and fetched a cup of water from a bucket by the door. She poured it into the pot and then placed a lid on it.
Garth nodded, and Ytha hurried to bring him a platter with some bread and a mug of ale. She handed them to him, and he balanced the plate awkwardly on his knee while taking a drink of the surprisingly refreshing ale.
“You always eat this way?” he asked.
“I sometimes sit on the bed.”
Garth did have his work cut out for him if he wanted to make this place habitable. He would not call it a hovel, exactly, but this very basic little house could not compare with the fine longhouses his people inhabited. He would see what could be done about extending the home but first he was going to have to build a new bed. That simple pallet she slept upon was not suitable for a man of his size. Once he had taken care of the bed, he would see to installing a few low benches around the wall. Then he would construct a table bigger than the one she already had, so they might sit and eat without having to juggle their plates.
“Or, if the weather is fine, I eat outside,” she continued. “It is not so bad, really. I am lucky to have this house.”
Her tone was apologetic, and Garth was sorry he had made her feel as though her home was not good enough. She had simply not had a man to look out for her, and it was clear she had done her best, but he was here now and would ensure she lived in as much comfort as he was able to provide for her.
“Tell me,” he said, deciding to change the subject, “how is it you speak my language?”
He had noted her proficiency the first time she’d spoken to him in an almost perfect accent.
“I learned from Nessa. She has met your people before. She thought it would be useful for me to know how to communicate in case there was ever a raid upon us.”
“And the other women here? Some of them speak in our tongue also.”
Garth Page 3
