by Ree Thornton
"Valen..."
He fought back the victorious cry that threatened to overcome him at the desperate breathy sound of his name falling from her lips, then cupped the back of her head and lowered his lips to hover over hers.
"I know what you need, Princess," he growled. Heat flooded his body as he claimed her mouth, gently coaxing it open with unhurried strokes of his tongue.
Unwilling to accept his slow pace, she bit down on his bottom lip, making his heart race. She wanted him with a passion that matched his own. She covered his mouth with hers and her tongue darted out in commanding strokes as she devoured him.
He groaned and let her take what she needed, though his heart beat so fast that he thought it would explode if she took much more. Finally, when he felt his body nearing release, he pulled away.
"Not so fast."
She squirmed in his lap in protest, the press of her soft folds against the outline of his hard cock in his breeches wrenching another growl from his chest. By the gods, he had to slow this down, or the woman would be his undoing. He flipped them over, laying her back on the silk cushions and settling between her legs.
"Don't stop," she begged, looking up at him.
"I won't," he promised. He couldn't have stopped even if he'd wanted to—rational thought had deserted him long ago. He pulled off his shirt, desperate to feel the heat of her skin against his chest. He inhaled the exotic musky perfume in the curve of her neck and laid a path of soft kisses downward.
She clutched his head in her hands, her fingers tangling in his hair to keep him in place as he swirled his tongue around one puckered nipple and his fingers plucked at the furled bud of the other.
"Já. That feels amazing."
He was just getting started. He knew what she needed. He licked his lips and took her nipple into his mouth, sucking in the primal rhythm he knew would make her ache.
She writhed beneath him as she surrendered to the pleasure. Slowly her body tensed, and then her breath quickened, her chest rising rapidly as she neared the edge.
He released her breast and rose above her on his forearms. She looked like a bronzed goddess, with one hand thrown up over her head and her skin flushed from the rough touch of his beard. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He'd done that to her. He'd made her limp with desire.
Her dark eyelashes fluttered and her eyes slowly opened.
The noise of his heart beating in his ears was deafening as he saw his own fervent need reflected back at him. He moved down her body and settled on the rug between her legs.
"What are you…?"
He studied her glistening sex as he slid his hands across her waist to hold her still. He could smell the sweetness of her desire.
"I must taste you."
"What?" Her knees came up as she moved to shield herself from him and shook her head.
"Trust me? I'll make you feel good."
"I trust you." She watched him warily, but let him guide her legs back down.
Gently, he slid his hands up and brushed his thumbs over her nipples until her eyelids fluttered closed. She gasped as he pressed his mouth to her sex, sliding his tongue along her folds and delving inside in search of her honey. She tasted sweet and creamy—he couldn't get enough.
"Oh." She threw her head back when his tongue caressed her swollen nub, and then cried out again when he suckled slowly with long hard strokes.
His chest swelled with pride as she began to toss back and forth, her dark hair falling in gentle waves across her breasts. He longed to release his hard cock from his breeches, but he ignored his own needs and held her firmly in place. He wouldn't let her down now, not when she was so close. He pressed his tongue against her and flicked.
She tensed, her mouth falling open in a silent cry as she shuddered. Never had a woman looked as beautiful as her in that the moment.
Something shifted near his heart as he watched her soar. This woman had found a way into the secret place he'd sworn he'd never open again. When a satisfied smile settled on her face, he lay down beside her and pulled a blanket over them both. He ran his fingers up and down her arm.
She raised her hands above her head and stretched before rolling on her side and throwing a leg across his waist.
"That was…"
"Já." He wrapped an arm around her, ignoring the brush of her bare breasts against his chest, and grinned at her loss for words.
"But you didn't… We didn't finish."
He pressed a finger to her lips and shook his head. This was about her pleasure, it always had been.
Her eyes twinkled as she slid her tongue along his finger, and then sucked it into her warm mouth down to the knuckle.
Óðinn! The hair on the back of his neck stood on end at the wanton look in her eyes as she pressed her tongue against it and then released him. How did the woman know about taking a man in her mouth? What in Hel had Rúna and Ásta been teaching her?
"I want to, Valen. I don't want to wonder what could have been. I want everything with you." Her fingers drifted down over the ridges of his muscular stomach.
His skin heated beneath her touch. The thought of claiming her was so dangerous, so tempting, that he could hear his own heart pounding in his ears.
"Everything?"
She nodded slowly, and then her hand skimmed the waistband of his pants and dropped to unbutton his breeches. "Everything…"
He groaned and crushed his mouth on hers. He'd never wanted a woman as much as he wanted her. Their mouths moved in a frantic dance as she pushed his breeches down and he kicked them off.
Her hands tugged at his shoulders until he rolled atop her, his throbbing cock cradled in her slick heat.
Mother of Óðinn. What was he doing? He cupped her face in his hands and gently brushed his thumbs across her cheeks. The urge to join with her was impossible to resist. He pulled back and raised himself above her, his arms shaking as the head of his staff aligned with the place he was desperate to invade.
"Oh." The soft sigh fell from her lips.
He swallowed hard and looked down at her. There was no turning back after they did this. Now that they were here, she deserved the chance to change her mind. He raised an eyebrow.
Her eyes widened briefly at his unasked question. She looked down to where their bodies met, then back up at him with unrestrained desire. Her breasts jiggled as she curled her fingers around his wrists.
"Everything," she whispered.
"Já, Princess. I will give you everything." He slowly rocked forward until he slid into her warm heat. She was everything he had imagined, Valhalla on earth—warm, tight, and wet. When she sucked in a shaky breath as he met the barrier of her innocence, he lowered to his forearms and kissed her deep and demanding, until she relaxed and cautiously rocked her hips. He rose above her once more. He was loath to hurt her, but she was ready. He grit his teeth and plunged deep.
Her eyes widened and she stiffened, crying out as her body clamped down on him. Her nails dug into the tender flesh of his wrists and the metallic tang of blood filled the air.
"The worst is over. Breathe, just breathe." He ignored the pain, knowing that hers was much worse, and held himself frozen above her.
She looked up at him through teary eyes and sucked in shaky breaths.
He wouldn't move, even if it killed him. He'd do nothing more to hurt her. As her breathing slowed and the tension eased from her body, he lowered himself to rest on his forearms and trailed wet kisses down her neck. "You undo me."
She shivered and wrapped her arms around his neck.
Good. She was ready to move beyond the pain. "You are the sweetest treat," he whispered, then scraped his teeth across the tender flesh of her earlobe and sucked it into his mouth.
She moaned and arched her back, her hard nipples brushing against his chest as she rocked her hips against him.
"Já." He lost himself in her, rocking back, and then thrusting forward as he felt the bond between them growing as though infused with the magic of the gods as
together they found a rhythm.
Her hips rose to meet his, her hands sliding down to his backside and then pulling him into her faster.
If she didn't stop, he would be spent. He couldn't let that happen, not when it would leave her wanting. He slid his hands beneath her and rolled onto his back.
She froze above him, the flickering light of the lantern casting shimmering light across her skin and the rich tones of the gold and orange drapery hanging from the center of the tent roof.
The gods had opened the gates to Valhalla to give him a taste of paradise. She'd wanted this night together, so it felt right that she would be the one to take them both to release.
"Like this." He put his hands on her hips and rocked her along his length.
Her eyes widened in surprise.
By the gods, he was so close already. "Now sit up."
She placed her hands in the center of his chest and pushed herself upright. Her long hair fell down around her until the tips slid across his thighs like silky fingers and stole the air from his lungs.
"Take what you want." He grasped her firm ass and guided her motions, showing her how to rise up and thrust herself back down on him.
Her lips parted, and a soft moan slipped free as her eyes drifted closed and she began to bounce with slow deliberate strokes.
He clenched his teeth and reached up to cup her breasts, plucking at her nipples as he fought back his own release. Then he slid his hand down her stomach and through the soft hair that hid her swollen nub, and feasted on her nipples as he worked her furiously. The more he tasted, the more he craved her. He thrust upward, pumping his hips hard and fast. He couldn't stop now—he was past the point of no return.
Then she collapsed forward, her nails digging into his chest as she quickened her pace. She was close.
"Já," he groaned, and bit down on her nipple, giving her just enough pain to send her catapulting into bliss.
She arched her back and cried out as she began to quiver around him.
He lost all reason as her slick heat squeezed his cock. He thrust once, twice more, and joined her, muffling his throaty roar against her neck as he exploded inside her.
A few minutes later, she pulled the blanket up over them and cuddled into his side with her head on his chest. "Is it always like that?"
What should he tell her? Their lovemaking, and he had no doubt that's what it was, had shaken him to his core. He shook his head.
"Nei. That was everything…and more." He cradled her in his arms and cupped the smooth globes of her ass.
"Much more," she whispered in agreement.
He watched as her eyes drifted closed and she fell asleep. Damn the gods and their spiteful games—now that he knew she was perfect for him it would destroy him to watch her leave.
Chapter Fifteen
Samara
Samara held the quill over the parchment, eager to record the final few trades and escape to back to her tent. She fought the urge to rub her hand over her face. Would this meeting ever end? For hours, Valen had sampled the various spices and foods available on the Silk Road as she'd mediated the negotiations and recorded the details of their trades on the parchment resting on the small wooden table across her knees.
The Caliph leaned back in his chair. "It is a fair price for a rare spice."
You can do this, just a little longer. She sighed inwardly. It was exhausting maintaining the peace between her father and Valen whilst hiding her attraction to the Viking Jarl. She could not fail. She didn't want to think of the consequences of her father discovering their illicit affair. She lowered her lashes to hide her uneasiness—nothing could jeopardize the trade deal for Valen.
"You ask for too much gold for such a small jar," Valen insisted, holding the Caliph's penetrating gaze.
The Caliph sipped his wine, his long fingers tapping on the side of the cup in a movement that exuded power and elegance. It was a carefully crafted tactic intended to intimidate his opponent. Unfortunately for him, it was having little effect on Valen.
Watching them quibble over a tiny jar of saffron reminded her of two strutting roosters fighting for dominance, and her patience was long gone.
"Must you argue over every item?" she said, waving her hand at the table still covered in items they had yet to discuss. "We will be here all day."
Valen sat back and crossed his arms over his chest, his blue eyes boring into hers.
She looked away, attempting to douse the heat that pooled between her legs. How was she supposed to pretend there was nothing between them when he looked at her like that?
Don't look. As long as she did not look at him, she could hide how she felt. If their secret was safe, then there was no reason not to continue their affair until she left.
Do. Not. Look. She could do that.
She turned to her father. "There must be compromise on both sides," she said, raising an eyebrow at him. He was overcharging for the saffron and could easily drop the price and still make well above market value for the item.
"What has come over you, Daughter?" he replied, with a flicker of warning in his dark eyes.
"I merely seek a fair resolution for all."
"You would lessen our profits and take food from the mouths of your own people, just because of the hospitality you received here?" Though her father left the rest of his thoughts unspoken, she could tell that he was questioning if her loyalties had shifted. His expression was cold as he picked up the jar and removed the lid.
Her eyes drifted closed as the earthy aroma of the spice tickled her nostrils, a sudden wave of nostalgia crashing over her—saffron rice, watching the shifting desert sands from her balcony, and the laughter of her people washing in the Tigris.
"I will trade for the spices and other stores..." Valen said.
She blinked and opened her eyes. The soft rumble of his voice brought memories of last eve flooding back—his hands on her body, the hard planes of his golden chest hovering above her. Her heart raced as she recalled the caress of his beard across her skin that had left her feeling utterly lost, yet with no desire whatsoever to be found. If his gentle lovemaking had been a ploy to make her want him even more, she did.
Her father inclined his head. "A wise choice—"
Valen held up his hand to interrupt and stroked his beard as though deep in thought.
The Caliph's jaw tensed, and then a gleeful shine lit his eyes as Valen dragged out the extended pause until it bordered on rude. He was enjoying this battle of the wits with the Viking Jarl. Valen may not be as schooled at negotiation, but he had a natural instinct for the thrust and parry of the game and the Caliph's respect for him had grown as the morning progressed.
"...But I will only pay half. And I will also take the silks and the beads," Valen finally finished. His gaze never strayed from the Caliph or the goods on the table between them as he shifted in his seat and casually crossed his outstretched legs at the ankle.
She looked down at the parchment to hide her smile. Valen was no fool. Whenever the Caliph became distracted, Valen wielded these surprise tactics with timely precision to spark his interest and keep him at the table.
The Caliph held Valen's gaze. "Half for the saffron and you will take all of the silks. They are of the finest quality. I will gift thirty just like these to Samara's future husband. They will make a fine gift for your woman."
Samara stiffened at her father's exaggeration—they were far from the finest silks that were traded on the Silk Road. And curse him for reminding her of her impending marriage. She knew that he thought he was doing what was best for her by finding her a husband, but his lack of consideration for her opinion on the matter was infuriating. She was a grown woman, not a child. Valen at least respected her enough to allow her to make her own decisions.
"Indeed they would make a fine gift," Valen replied.
Her eyes flicked between the two of them, the shrewd reserved leader and the fierce Viking warrior, forthright and bound by honor, they couldn't be mor
e different. What should she do? She wanted to warn Valen that it was not a fair trade, but doing so would be betraying her people. Her people... She was an Abbasid princess—they deserved her loyalty. Her head began to ache with the pressure of being caught between two different worlds.
Valen raised his cup to his mouth as his eyes met hers over the rim. "I am yet to wed, but they are for someone special."
Sparks flew between them. The hair on the nape of her neck stood on end. He was talking about her. She glanced at her father, hoping that he had not noticed.
His dark eyes narrowed as his gaze flicked between her and Valen suspiciously.
Her stomach dropped, all remnants of her lingering desire vanishing as a deathly chill swept through the tent. She'd been a fool to think that she could continue to walk in two worlds without consequence. It would tear her in two if she continued, and even worse, destroy both of their worlds if her father found out. She had to stop this dangerous affair, now.
Valen drained his cup and set it on the table.
She motioned for it to be refilled, and then looked down at her quill, squeezing it between her fingertips until they ached. As much as it would hurt, she knew what she needed to do. She would play the cold distant Princess until Valen understood it was over between them.
"I am sure your wife, when you choose one, will love them," she said dismissively.
When she looked up, his heated stare and the flare of his nostrils spoke volumes. She glanced over at her father, and then back at him. Her meaning clear, this cannot be, not here, not now, never again.
"That she will," he said, then turned to her father and continued as though her rebuff was of no consequence to him. "I will have all the silks."
The breath rushed from her lungs as she looked down and added the silks to the tally on the parchment. What a fool she had been to forget that Valen too would soon wed another. Inside she was drowning, sinking into the abyss as she broke under the loss of everything she'd ever wanted—Valen, friends, freedom, love.
Love...
The soft whisper in her mind was undeniable—she loved Valen. Over these last weeks, she had fallen in love with the formidable Viking Jarl, and now she must let him go. She swallowed her despair and fought to maintain her mask of bland indifference.
