by Sandra Hill
But Hauk wasn’t about to admit to that kind of mistake, not out loud. He smiled and pretended it had been a deliberate action. Thankfully, Kirstin’s female channel had been ready for him, melting around him like molten honey.
He almost said something embarrassing, like, “Loki made me do it,” but then he noticed the expression on his wife’s face. Wide-eyed with wonder.
Well, praise the gods and pass the mead! Apparently he’d done something right, without even intending to. That would be a good “oops,” he supposed.
It took every bit of his self-control to remain still, the instinct to begin the age-old thrusting rhythm almost overwhelming. He bit his bottom lip to the point of nearly breaking the skin and tried to think of other things, like turnips, which he considered a gagsome vegetable, or riding a longship during a fierce sea storm, or waking after a night of drinking in the bed furs of an ugly, wart-nosed, gray-haired woman. Not that he had ever experienced the latter, but many of his friends had. The skalds told sagas about such lamebrained men.
But then, Kirstin moaned with pleasure, breaking into his reverie.
And Hauk tasted blood.
“I wasn’t expecting that,” she said breathlessly.
I wasn’t either. “’Tis one of my talents.”
“You have a lot of those, do you?”
Oh, gods! She is going to talk now! “Do you doubt it?”
“Not for a Viking minute. Wanna see one of mine?”
Is she serious? What kind of question is that to ask a Viking man, especially one who is knee-deep, rather cock-deep, in enthusiasm? “Mayhap.” Perchance a one-word answer would halt her chatter.
Which it did, except that now she did something with her inner muscles, causing them to flex, several times, which caused him to move a little bit deeper inside. Who knew that was even possible? His eyes were probably rolling back in his head. “What was that?” he choked out.
“That was my va-jay-jay saying ‘Howdy’ to your happy tail.”
He had no idea what those words meant, specifically, but he suspected they were bawdy names for body parts, and that “Howdy” was a word of welcome. The blush that emerged on her face confirmed his suspicion.
“Why do you keep trying to shock me?” he asked.
At first, she stiffened at his question…he was still lying over her, still buried inside her nether parts…but then she told him, “It’s probably the result of growing up with nine brothers. They had no mercy for feminine sensibilities. So my best defense became a frontal assault. Shock them before they could shock me.”
“But I am not your brother.” He smiled, then turned serious. “I want to make love with you.”
She reached a hand up to cup his cheek. “I want to make love with you, too.”
Thank you, gods…or God. He turned his face to kiss her palm. “Then let us make love to each other, heartling.”
Whatever the cause, Hauk knew in that instant that Kirstin was a gift he’d been given for some predestined reason. Was it a forever gift, or one that would be taken away without notice? He had no idea. Facing that uncertainty frightened him more than a berserker’s axe or a rash on certain body parts. He must do everything in his power to convince her to stay, or leastways he must cherish each moment that he had with her.
With that in mind, he eased himself out of her, almost but not quite the whole way.
She sighed her appreciation, or mayhap she was trying to bridle her own passions.
He stroked in and out of her. Unhurriedly. But only a few times because his body demanded faster and deeper.“I need to slow down,” he rasped out.
“Faster,” she demanded, and clasped his buttocks with her two hands and pressed tightly. He would probably have finger marks.
He tried to laugh but it came out as a chortle. “I’ll hurt you if I lose control, sweetling.”
“I’ll hurt you if you don’t go harder, ding-a-ling.”
She didn’t know what she was asking. He was half again as big as she was. He tried a different tack. “I’ll be done too soon.”
“Did I tell you that in modern times, they have invented a little blue pill that helps men to get and stay hard?”
“That is not my problem at the moment,” he told her.
“I noticed.”
He looked cross-eyed at her. “Truly, we are going to talk? When I am locked in you like a sword in a blacksmith’s vise?”
“Nice image!”
“Aaarrgh! Truly, do you deliberately chatter in an effort to incite me to end too soon?”
“That’s the best thing about sex. We can do it again. And again and again and again.”
There were a few too many “agains” in there for Hauk’s comfort. But the most important thing was that she had her way, which was of course his way, too.
Succumbing to the growing urgency that swept over him, he was mindless with the savage need for completion. With chest heaving and blood roaring in his ears, he pounded into her woman heat. Once, twice, thrice, and his neck arched back as he roared out his ecstasy. Thankfully, Kirstin’s sheath clasped him spasmodically as she reached her own peak.
He collapsed onto her body with his face resting in the arch of her neck. Despite the coolness of the bedchamber, both of their bodies were covered with perspiration. He might have actually fallen asleep for a second or two, as some men were wont to do when satisfied in the bedplay.
But then he felt her body shaking under him. Was she crying? Oh, gods! Had he hurt her?
He raised his body on straightened arms and looked down at her. She was not weeping. She was laughing.
Now that was an ardor crusher for a man, if ever there was one. In truth, he could not recall any woman ever laughing at him after bedplay.
He arched his brows at her. “My lovemaking is cause for mirth? You laugh at me?”
“I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at myself.”
He frowned with confusion. “Huh?”
“I’ve been so hot for you all night, and I promised myself I wouldn’t jump your bones, but that’s exactly what I did, so to speak. I’m a disgrace to the single women’s rule book that says men prefer their partners to let them lead the way, to seduce them.”
What? It’s not me she’s laughing at? Whew! “That bloody rule book is wrong. Men love sex no matter how it comes.”
She put a hand to his face and smiled. “In any case, that was amazing.”
“It was? Even short as it was?”
“Long, short, hard, gentle, standing up, lying down, on top, on bottom, whatever…there’s an attraction to all of those, isn’t there?”
He nodded, and moved his chest back and forth over her breasts, the bristly hairs causing her nipples to engorge. He could swear he almost felt the points pressing against his skin.
“I don’t know how you’re going to outdo, or even match, what you’ve already done…here, in the bathing hut, back at the castle, in the tent.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him coquettishly.
Is she challenging me? Has she not learned that lesson yet? He was still inside her female channel, though limp and needing a rest. Still, he thought of something. “Have you ever heard of the famous Viking S-Spot?”
Her inner muscles flexed, hard. Just once.
But that was enough. His cock stood to attention and probably said that word that Kirstin had used, “Howdy!” Apparently Hauk did not need a rest, after all.
Role reversal: a modern concept, a timeless practice…
Actually, Kirstin had heard of the famous Viking S-Spot before. Her brothers were always talking about it with each other, always in a lusty, boastful manner, always in hushed tones so that she and her sisters wouldn’t overhear. As if that wasn’t the inducement for them to make sure they overheard!
Not that Kirstin had ever experienced it herself, if it really existed. She’d never done the deed with a real Viking…until Hauk. A college professor, a Navy SEAL, a wine merchant, and a journalist, but never a true blue Nors
eman. And, hoo-boy, it was true what they said about Vikings, by the way.
But she decided to give Hauk a break. “Lie back,” she urged, pushing upward.
He eased himself out of her with a grimace of supposed pain and rolled to his back, taking her with him to rest on her side with her head on his shoulder and an arm over his chest. “Like this?” he asked.
“Exactly,” she said, kissing his chin. ‘Let’s just relax a minute. This isn’t a race. We have all night.”
“Ah, so I wore you out already?” He chuckled with sheer male overconfidence and squeezed her tighter so that her breasts were pressed against his side.
Let him think that.
“You didn’t answer my question.” The fingers of his free hand trailed over her shoulder and down her back to the small of her waist and the top of her crack. He hesitated there…thank God! She didn’t know a woman alive who wanted to be touched there. But then, he repeated the trail upward, back to her shoulder. He left a ripple of goosebumps in the wake of his wicked fingers.
“Yes, I’ve heard of the Viking S-Spot, from my bragging brothers, but I’m convinced it’s just a bunch of Viking baloney. The kind of skill men claim to have but are never called on.”
“Are you saying you have never experienced it yourself?”
“Hey, there aren’t that many Vikings in modern-day California.”
He grinned and started to rise, putting his hands on both her shoulders, presumably to arrange her on the bed.
“Not yet,” she said.
He paused, only half reclining by now, and arched his brows at her.
“I have something else in mind for the moment. Something that will require no work on your part. Give you time to recover from your last orgasm.”
“Who said I needed time…ah, whatever you want, dearling. What would you suggest?”
“A bit of role reversal.”
“Hmmm,” he said, obviously having no clue what she meant. Even so, he volunteered, “I am always up for games in the bedsport.” He smiled and glanced downward to his rising enthusiasm. “Orgy-asm, though? I like the sound of that.”
“You’ll like what I’m planning even better.”
“Oh?”
“I want you to sit on the edge of the bed.”
He frowned with confusion, but did as she asked. His bare feet were firmly planted on the floor, knees spread in a manly fashion.
She scooted over and off the mattress, standing in front of him. For a moment, she let his eyes travel over her, while his enthusiasm got more enthusiastic.
Then she knelt.
If there’s one thing a Viking does well, it’s ride the waves…
Hauk was shocked.
And he was pleased.
Nay, “pleased” was too small a word to describe how he felt. In fact, he was chest-thumping, mouth-roaring, head-lifting jubilant. All those emotions being held inside, that this woman…his wife…would do that for him, made his heart feel too big, kind of achy. It would be foolish to attribute such an act to love, or some such fanciful notion. Still…
It’s not that he’d never had his cock in a woman’s mouth before. He had. Well, truth to tell, it had only been a few times in his thirty-five years, and one of those had been when he was a youthling and it had involved a great deal of begging and a small bribe…a slightly soiled blue riband…to a dairy maid who reeked of cow, as he recalled.
With Kirstin it had been an entirely different experience. Afterward, he dropped back onto the mattress with a whooshing exhale and watched, stunned, as she pulled a gunna over her head and said, cheerily, “Hold that thought, honey. I’ll be right back.”
She could talk after that? Whilst he could scarce put two words together? Was this not such a momentous event to her, as it had been to him? Apparently not. “Where are you going?”
“Gotta go pee.” With those words and a saucy wave, she left, giving her hips an extra swing. Or so it seemed to him. She could have relieved herself in the bucket behind the screen in the corner, but then women were squeamish about such things, preferring the garderobe or the outside privy.
Upon her return a short time later, she washed her hands with water that she poured from a pitcher into the bowl on the wall shelf. Drying her hands on her gunna, she then turned to look at him.
He was leaning back on an extra bed fur he’d placed at the headboard, his arms folded behind his head. His body was covered with another fur up to his waist. “Thank you,” he said.
She arched her brows but didn’t ask what he meant. Instead, she smiled and said, “My pleasure. You can reciprocate later.”
Reciprocate? Does she mean…? How do I do that? Mayhap she refers to the Viking S-Spot, which involves the tongue, but, nay that is different. Oh, well, I’ll figure it out. Or Kirstin, bless her blathering heart, will tell me what to do. He lifted the side of the bed fur and invited her in. To her credit, or his, she removed the gunna before ducking under the fur with a shiver. Unfortunately, she didn’t stand long enough for him to enjoy the view, but then, the air was cold. Even that short exposure chilled her skin. But not for long. He pulled her tight against his side, again, and she, brazen wench that she was…praise the gods!...lifted her knee up and over his thighs, thus placing her even tighten against him. They created a wonderful heat together.
She yawned and cuddled her face into his neck. To his further amazement, and disappointment, she fell asleep almost immediately.
He remained awake for a long time, though. Thinking, thinking, thinking. Even as he worried, a sense of serenity fell over him, like a blanket, or the bed fur he had drawn up over both of them, to the neck. Partly, it was gratification, the physical kind gained after good sex. But more than that, he felt contentment filling him. Well, not totally. Yea, he was content being back at Haukshire, to his ever-increasing surprise, and he was hopeful that with his hunting trip on the morrow and Egil’s trip to Hedeby for supplies, and the removal of Zoya from his premises, he and his people would make it through the autumn and winter. After that, springtime and the inevitable return of many of his cotters and warriors, would bring prosperity, not just survival. There was a purpose to his life that had not been there before.
The only thing blocking his complete contentment was lying beside him, snoring softly against his chest hairs. Kirstin. His wife. Even saying, or thinking, the word “wife” caused a lump to form in his throat and his eyes to water. She was coming to mean way too much to him. And he knew without a doubt that she still planned to leave at the first opportunity.
I need to convince her to stay.
And how will thou do that? that infernal voice in his head asked. Was it Odin or the Christian One-God or just himself questioning himself?
I’ve already tried forcing her. She is here because I drugged her, not by her own choice.
And how has that worked out, Viking, if she is still planning to leave?
Definitely the One-God, he decided. Um, do you have inside information on her plans?
None that I would disclose to you.
Oh, well! Time, that is my friend just now. I have time to seduce…uh, sway her emotions toward me.
Seems to me, thou art the one being seduced…uh, swayed.
Do Christians know their God is so sarcastic?
Dost think it wise to alienate the One being who can help you?
You would help me…a heathen?
Oh, I forgot thou art a pagan.
I could convert, he added quickly.
He thought he heard a smile in the voice when it replied, Of course thou could. The One-God had to know that many Vikings allowed themselves to be baptized to gain lands or treaties, while at the same time maintaining their old ways.
Hauk hated these wavering emotions that were assailing him. He’d always been confident of his abilities, both as a warrior and a lover, but he was oddly insecure now, when it came to Kirstin. Mayhap it was because the outcome mattered so much to him.
She woke then, and they ta
lked of inconsequential things, skirting around what was surely on both their minds. The future. Their future.
“I must leave at first light.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“Three or four days…a sennight at the most.”
“Depending on…?”
He shrugged. “How much game we can get close to home?”
“How far have you had to go in the past?”
“Well, I haven’t hunted here for many years, but in the old days, when game was most plentiful, two days of walking. Beyond that the cold and terrain become too difficult.”
“Is there danger?”
“There’s danger in everything.”
“How about Bjorn? Will you take him with you?”
He shook his head. “He is improved, but I fear that so much walking could reverse all his progress. I’ve asked him to supervise the fishing.”
“And he was okay with that?”
“Pfff! Not at all! But I told him that men were needed here to provide protection. Also, I promised him that he could go a-Viking with me next spring if he is able to obey orders.”
She nodded and remained silent, though she probably had thoughts on what a by then thirteen-year-old boy should be doing with his time. But that was neither here nor there. He wanted to ask her if she would be here when he returned, but instead he said, “How will you keep busy whilst I’m gone?”
“Hah! There’s plenty to do. We’ll probably make soap tomorrow if the weather is all right.”
“Flavored soap?” he inquired with a grin.
She pinched his belly for his teasing. Which, of course, caused a body part somewhat lower to rise with attention. “Tsk! Scented, not flavored,” she said. “And, actually, yes, I might try some scents. I’m thinking you might be a perfect candidate for something like, oh, I don’t know. Maybe turnip.”
“Turnip? Turnip?” he exclaimed, then realized that she must have discovered his aversion to that particular vegetable. “Do not dare!”
She giggled and told him, “Just kidding.”
“How about mead? That would be a smell men might not mind.”
