Besieged

by Jaid Black

  Peggy made a suctioning movement with her lips one final time, depleting the head of any remaining droplets. She swallowed it, then glanced up at him, her expression vulnerable.

  Would he act smugly because she’d caved in this much? Would he behave arrogantly, knowing as he did the power he wielded over her?

  “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice humble. His wolf-blue eyes looked anything but smug and arrogant. They looked grateful. And at peace. “That was a precious gift you gave to me.”

  Peggy blinked, tears welling up in her eyes. “I—I’m scared,” she breathed out. “I’m so very scared.”

  Geirwolf’s eyes softened. “I know, baby.” He held out his hands and pulled her down so she was laying on top of his chest. He kissed the top of her head, his hands gently stroking her back. “I know.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  One week later

  Geirwolf’s thoughts were in turmoil as he walked toward the breeding stalls. He hadn’t touched Peggy in a sexual way for nigh unto a week for he wanted her to come to him when she was ready. Or at least for now, he mentally qualified, until her fears had been allayed.

  But every night grew worse. Every night it became more and more difficult to resist the temptation of burying his rigid cock into her warm, pliant pussy or her talented, hot mouth…especially now that he knew what both of them felt like. He had no idea how or if he’d make it through even one more evening alone with her. He also knew, however, that he didn’t want to frighten her, so he’d have to find a way to make it through the evening whether she wanted to be sexual with him or not.

  Geirwolf didn’t want to be an arrogant autocrat who took what he wanted when he wanted it, consequences be damned. His father had been that way when first his mother had been stolen, and if his grandmother’s gossip could be replied upon (which it usually could) it had taken the jarl’s wife a full four years to accept her place at his side. Four years was a hell of a long time—a lot longer than Geirwolf wanted to spend with Peggy feeling ambivalent towards him.

  And so Geirwolf had held himself back, not wanting to make the same mistakes his father had made with his mother. The older couple was happy now, aye, but that happiness had come at the price of four years they could never get back.

  The last week with Peggy had been wonderful in all ways except sexually. They were becoming friends, which was something he had never before experienced with a woman. He even felt comfortable sharing his feelings with her, which was something he had never before experienced with a woman or a man.

  Geirwolf had been raised to be stoic and aloof, yet in a week’s time Peggy had managed to penetrate all of the walls he’d spent a lifetime erecting. He had been raised to be autocratic and domineering, yet the mere sight of his wife made him feel tender emotions he wasn’t entirely comfortable feeling.

  He wanted her—more than he’d ever wanted anyone or anything in his life.

  He was ready to be mated, and at thirty-four years was far past the age that most warriors reached before they took a bride. All of these years he had held himself back, hunting time and time again for a female who gave him the right feeling. Peggy was that female—he was sure of it.

  He had watched her from afar for weeks, studying the way she interacted with others, studying everything there was to know about her. He admired her keen intellect, admired her independent, adventurous spirit, admired too the beauty of her lush, fleshy form. He had known the moment he’d clapped eyes on her back in outlander Barrow that she was the one. The weeks he’d spent studying her had only confirmed it.

  The image of Peggy, naked and wanting him of her own volition, popped into Geirwolf’s mind—again. He sighed, knowing it was but setting himself up for a fall to fantasize about an intimacy she wasn’t yet ready to feel, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.

  He was already in love with her. He was beginning to wonder if she’d ever fall in love with him.

  Geirwolf walked stoically toward the breeding stalls, realizing as he did that in the end the answer to that question didn’t matter. They were wed. They would always be wed. Peggy would always belong to him even if his love was never returned.

  His jaw tightened as he considered the fact that it was possible his wife would never want him. He prayed to the gods that such would not be the case, but knew he had to prepare himself for that outcome.

  Geirwolf prepared to open the door to Peggy’s private stall, expecting to find her already asleep for he was coming to her later than usual. His hand stilled on the latch when the sound of soft moans coming from the other side of the door reached his ears. Stunned, he stood there in shock for a threadbare moment before a hot, all-consuming possessiveness coursed through him.

  She has taken a lover. My wife is cheating on me…

  Furious, and ready to kill whomever it was that was fucking her, Geirwolf pushed the heavy door open with all of his strength, inducing it to crash against the earthen wall. His heartbeat thumping like mad, adrenaline rushing through his blood, he stepped inside the dimly lit room, the sound of the door crashing shut behind him filling the small chamber. “What!” he bellowed, “is going on in—”

  His body stilled as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the chamber’s single lit torch. He swallowed over the quickly forming lump in his throat as he watched Peggy masturbate on her back, her fingers gliding over her erect, slippery clit as she rocked back and forth in a slow undulation.

  “I want you,” she whispered. Her eyes were closed. Her voice sounded tired, a bit weary. “I’m sick of fighting it,” she said hoarsely.

  Geirwolf’s mind now realized that no other male had fucked his wife, yet his body, still pumping full of primal adrenaline, hadn’t quite caught up. His breathing was labored, possessiveness swamping him. She was laid out on the mating bed, her legs splayed wide apart, his for the taking.

  Reacting instinctively, he came to her in a territorial fashion, pushing his braies down to his knees as he stood before her at the foot of the bed. Grabbing her thighs and pushing them apart, he entered her wet flesh without ceremony, seating himself to the hilt in one violent thrust.

  “Fitta mi,” he hissed, his teeth gritting. “My cunt.”

  Peggy gasped when Geirwolf thrust inside of her, then gasped again when he palmed her breasts and began to ride her body hard. Her husband had a menacing appearance every day, but tonight he looked downright dangerous, she thought. The tattoo of the dragon that snaked up his left arm seemed to move as his muscles flexed in time with his thrusts.

  “Faster,” she prodded him on. She had been given a week to sort out her feelings and now she wanted him so badly that even her nostrils were flaring. “Fuck me harder.”

  Standing before her at the foot of the bed, her legs spread wide apart by his callused hands, Geirwolf gave her what she wanted as hard as she wanted it. His fingers dug into the flesh of her thighs and his jaw clenched hotly as he buried his stiff cock inside of her pussy, over and over, again and again.

  “Oh god,” Peggy moaned, her head falling back and her back arching. She could hear the sound of their flesh meeting, the sound of her pussy sucking him back in with every upstroke. “Oh god.”

  “Come for me,” Geirwolf ground out. He rotated his hips and slammed into her pussy harder. His fingers dug more securely into her thighs as he picked up the pace and fucked her with fast, merciless movements. “Now.”

  Peggy glanced down between her legs, watching as her husband’s cock slammed into her flesh over and over again. The sight of his heavily muscled body holding her comparatively smaller one pinioned before him while his hips pistoned back and forth as he pummeled into her was the most erotic thing she’d ever laid eyes on. She came on a loud groan, her back arching and her eyes closing. “Oh god.” Her head fell back onto the pillows, her nipples stiffening to the point of pain, her body convulsing. “Oh my god.”

  Geirwolf fucked her even harder then, the vein at his jugular bulging. “My cunt,” he ground out agai
n and again as if it was a mantra. “Mine.”

  He went primal on her then, pumping in and out of her in fast, violent thrusts. He fucked her as if he was branding her, like an animal marking his territory.

  Geirwolf impaled her pussy over and over, again and again. Perspiration dotted his forehead and his muscles clenched tightly as his body prepared for orgasm. The look of pleasure on his face—that expression that so closely resembled pain—held Peggy spellbound once again as he buried himself inside of her to the hilt in a series of lightning-quick, deep strokes.

  “You’re mine, Peggy,” he growled, his teeth gritting. “All mine.”

  He broke on a loud groan, his body convulsing as he violently climaxed into her cunt. She threw her hips at him the entire time, using the movement to suck all of the cum out of his cock with her pussy. She kept the fast, furious movement up for a solid thirty seconds, not relenting until he collapsed on top of her with a moan, spent and satisfied.

  It was a long while before either of them spoke. They simply laid there, holding onto each other as if the world had gone mad and they were each other’s lifeboat to sanity. But then again, perhaps they were.

  “I love you, Peggy,” Geirwolf confessed. He placed a gentle kiss on first one of her stiff nipples and then on her lips. “I’ve waited my entire life to find you,” he murmured. “And I hope that one day soon you will come to love me.”

  Peggy ran her fingers through his silky, sunny-blonde hair. “That’s assuming I already don’t,” she whispered. She sighed. “And you should never assume anything.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  2 months later

  It had been a long two months. Life in the breeding stalls was, after all, rather boring and monotonous. There wasn’t much to do once your training was complete—other than watch other terrified women get trained during the days, then wait for your husband to come to you at night. And oh, how she had come to look forward to the nights…

  Geirwolf was, for lack of a better expression, the best fuck on earth. He was attentive and possessed great stamina and had also, she thought with a small smile, turned out to be orally fixated—a fact Peggy would never complain about.

  But it was more than the sex. It was also the talking. They talked a lot, she and Geirwolf. About everything and nothing. About the inane and the important. But mostly they discussed what their life would be like when she became pregnant and left the breeding stalls.

  She walked toward her private chamber, knowing that Geirwolf would be coming to her soon, her thoughts on the conversation they’d had last night.

  “I can’t deny that I’m falling hard for you, Wolf,” Peggy said, her hand absently stroking his chest. “But I also can’t deny the fact that my work with the Inupiat is important to me. Or the fact that if I do become pregnant I would want my mother to be able to see her only grandchild.”

  “Peggy,” he sighed. “I wish there was a way to grant you your desires. Yet my people would literally kill me did I try to take you from New Norway, if even for just a week or two.”

  “But Wolf…”

  He held a finger up to her mouth. “The way our people have survived all these years is by remaining unknown to the outside world. No one who comes here—no one—is allowed to leave once they set eyes on New Norway unless it is to join the gods.” He sighed. “I cannot say I am sorry you are mine, but what can I do?”

  Peggy closed her eyes, her heart sinking. “Nothing, I guess,” she whispered.

  Geirwolf placed her hand on his erect cock. He wanted to be sexual again, any fool could figure that out, yet contrarily his thoughts seemed far away. His next words confirmed it. “The priests who serve as interim to the gods have declared for a thousand years that we are to live below-ground,” he murmured.

  Peggy’s head came up. “Why?” she asked, genuinely interested.

  “Visions they’ve had. Visions of a future earth where women are scarce.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “That’s fascinating,” she said truthfully. She was forever the anthropologist, always interested in myths and legends. “So they believe that by staying below the ground—”

  “—That our people will never suffer this famine of females,” Geirwolf broke in. “For we will continue to breed women in the numbers the gods intended, rather than become like the depraved who live above ground.”

  Peggy chewed that over, intrigued by the prophesies that had fueled the invention of this culture a thousand years ago. “Interesting,” she murmured.

  And, once again, Peggy had dropped the subject of her career and her mother. But even when she had caved in she had also realized that, inevitably, the subject would come up again. Like tonight.

  Peggy sighed as she plopped down onto the bed. She had a lot of feelings swimming through her brain, all of them stemming from the knowledge that she was pregnant.

  Pregnant, she thought, her heart racing. She was well and truly pregnant. Ivara had given her the exciting news this morning after she’d taken some primitive looking, yet highly accurate, test. By now even Geirwolf must know, she mused. So how did she feel about it?

  Peggy raked her fingers through her hair, asking herself that question for the millionth time since she’d been given the news that she was to leave the breeding stalls tomorrow and go with Geirwolf to his home. On one hand she was elated, not only because she got to leave the boring stalls, but also because she was thrilled with the idea of having a baby.

  And not just any man’s baby, Peggy…Geirwolf’s baby.

  Geirwolf. She loved him—she was in love with him. He had gotten under her skin just as she’d known he would and had stolen her heart along with her body. And, just as Geirwolf had once predicted, she now held her hands out to him in the nights, wanting him to hold her, to love her.

  Peggy bit into her lower lip, her thoughts a mess. On one hand she was elated to be pregnant, but on the other hand she was terrified. Being pregnant, after all, made her life in New Norway seem more…real. More real and more permanent. She was a true New Norwayer now, a full mate to the man who would one day rule the people here. She didn’t know how to feel about that.

  Being pregnant also meant something else, something that made her eyes tear up just thinking about the reality of it…

  Being pregnant meant going through the delivery, and then through the joys and sorrows of motherhood, without sharing the experiences with her own mom. She knew Geirwolf disliked talking about these things for he felt as though his hands were tied where her mother was concerned, yet Peggy knew that a great sadness would always live inside of her without her mother in her life.

  Growing up, her family had possessed little money but a lot of love. Her mom had worked two jobs after her father had died just to keep food on the table and a house over their heads. She had also worked her butt off to put Peggy through college. The fact that she was so close to becoming a Ph.D. was a point of pride her mother prattled on about to anyone who’d listen—and even those who didn’t listen.

  Peggy smiled, nostalgia overwhelming her whenever she remembered her mom. How could she be totally at peace, she thought, when her mother would never lay eyes on her grandchild?

  “Hello little mommy.”

  Peggy glanced up from where she was sitting on the bed to a smiling Geirwolf. Her eyes lit up when she saw him, just as they always did. He was holding a gift wrapped in a silk covering, which she could only assume was meant for her. She supposed the gift was probably the gold arm bangles women were given to wear when they left the breeding stalls. “Hi.”

  Geirwolf’s eyes narrowed. His gaze raked over her nude body then back up to her face. “You are…different today.” His expression was stoic as usual, yet uncertainty lurked in his wolf-blue eyes. “Not so happy as I was hoping you’d be,” he murmured.

  “No—no! I’m very happy!” she quickly assured him. She shrugged, looking away. “Just not completely happy if you know what I mean.”

  “Your mother?”

 
She nodded. “Yeah.”

  He sighed as he sat down next to her on the bed. He was quiet for a moment, but then he said, “I want you to be completely happy about this baby—our baby. We made this child together and he or she deserves our devotion.”

  “Oh Wolf I know that.” Peggy shook her head. “How could you think that I—”

  He placed a callused finger to her lips. “I don’t think that.” He smiled. “But I want you to be happy.” He sighed like a martyr, mumbling something about the unholy depths a man would sink to for his woman. “Your mother—she is widowed?”

  “Yeah.” Peggy’s forehead wrinkled. “Why?”

  “I just needed to be certain,” he muttered.

  Peggy gasped. “You’re going to steal her?”

  “Yes,” he said without apology. “Since this is the only way you will be happy.”

  She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Steal her?” she whispered to herself, her feelings in overdrive.

  The thought of her mother coming to live here—and being forced to walk around naked for crying out loud!—competed in her mind with the thought of her mother cleaning rich people’s houses every day all day long just to make ends meet. And, worse yet, she believed that her only child was dead…

  “Do it,” Peggy murmured, hoping she was making the right decision. Her mother was a beautiful woman. The warriors here would be tripping over themselves to get to her. “Just promise me she won’t end up in the Commons or the Dungeon of Shame.” Her nostrils flared. “I mean it.”

  Geirwolf blinked. “Why should she dislike the Commons? And what in the world is a Dungeon of Shame?”

  Peggy huffed. “Don’t pretend ignorance. Ivara took us to both places and I know what they are.”

  Geirwolf smiled slowly. It was beginning to occur to him how it was that Ivara was able to break the reticence of brides down in mere hours. She lied to them. “Do enlighten me.”

  Peggy told him about her experience in the Commons and about how the men there touched any woman they wanted to. She told him about the blue-eyed devil who had pulled her down onto his lap and scared the wits out of her. (Geirwolf would be having a long talk with his blue-eyed devil of a brother.) And then she told him about the women who had been hung in cages in the Dungeon of Shame, splayed out on all fours for the use of any man who wanted them. By the time she was done talking, much to her disgruntlement, Geirwolf was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes.