When she slid between the sheets, she snapped her fingers to dim the light. “They will watch,” she whispered, moving closer to his side. “We must do more than sleep.”
His curse was soft, but he rolled toward her, edging a thigh over hers, pressing his semierect staff against her hip. “How long must we do this?” he asked, his voice pitched low.
With his sex snuggling against her, she fought the urge to pull away. But they had a game to play. She laid a tentative hand atop his hip. “I don’t know. Aliyah will want to know that I engaged in sex with someone or she’ll be suspicious. Also, she gave me orders to find out more about the Wolf.”
His lips grazed the top of her shoulder.
She feigned a loud moan, which caused his chest to shake against hers, even though his cock was growing more rigid by the second.
Her fingers combed through his hair, and she dug her head into the pillow, feigning ecstasy. “What other orders did Eirik give you?”
“To keep you safe,” he said, his voice muffled against her skin. “Unmolested.”
She snorted.
He nipped her breast. “I’m not to enjoy the comfort of your woman’s channel.”
Warm lips on her skin caused a pleasant, sensual stirring inside her. “No fucking?” she asked, her tone wry because that left so many other things on the table to try.
“No fucking.”
Her fingers curled around his ears and pulled. “I have to ask my questions.”
His teeth clamped around a nipple and bit.
Hard enough to make her gasp.
“Ask away. Loud enough for them to hear. Then dive beneath the covers.”
She grunted. “Why don’t you?”
“Because I am the one you wronged.” He smiled against her breast. “You deserve to lose a little dignity.”
When his mouth glided across her chest to nip and suck her skin, she couldn’t keep her reaction to his touch a secret. Her nipples bloomed, drawing tight like sun-dried raisins. “’Tis harder to feign the act than to just do it. And we must leave semen on the sheets.”
“Then do it. I have a preference for a firm grip with a little twist at the end.”
A gust of laughter surprised her.
His teeth flashed white in the darkness.
This one wasn’t a rough barbarian, wasn’t a womanizing lech. To survive, he’d lie abed with other women and pleasure them, but she could tell from the steadiness of his gaze that he hated this.
Her palm cupped his cheek. “I’m truly sorry,” she said softly.
“’Tis good to hear. But I need more than words to soothe the anger boiling inside me, Fatin.”
“Close your eyes.” Her thumb grazed his jawline. “Pretend another soothes you. It’s how I got through many a horrible night here.”
“Don’t think I won’t tell every man here what I press upon you. Each one of them would do so much more to make you squirm.”
“You want revenge. I get that. You’re entitled.”
His chest expanded around a deep breath, his lips thinned, and he scooted up her body, then rolled to his back, arching an eyebrow. “You have questions,” he reminded her under his breath.
Fatin came over him, straddling his hips and pulling the covers up to her waist.
With a slow move, he reached for the edge and held them to keep their lower bodies hidden from the watchers.
Rolling her hips, she centered her slit over his cock and rubbed him forward and back, tossing back her hair and sighing loudly.
His mouth stretched into a tight grin as he played along. His gaze didn’t veer from her swaying breasts.
She covered them with her palms and squeezed, then bit her lower lip. Her performance was for more than show; she needed the watchers enthralled so that they forgot about the lengthy conversation she’d just had, which they hadn’t been able to hear.
When Aliyah asked them about what they’d observed, they’d fight smirks and rush to tell the high points of what Fatin wanted them to hear and see.
She leaned forward and braced her hands on his broad chest, pumping her hips to mimic fucking. Then she cleared her throat. “The one called Wolf, do you know him well?”
“Not as well as you,” he said, narrow eyes glittering with mirth.
She banged his cock with the hard bone of her pubis. “Why did you choose him to lead you?”
His shrug was casual, but a hand clamped on her hip to keep her from being rough with him again. “We chose him,” he said, his tone biting, “ because he wasn’t known to us, but seemed strong and calm in the face of everything that had befallen us.”
“Do you know his family? What he was within his clan?”
“A mason, I heard. Working on the Wolfskin keep’s curtain wall.” His hands closed around her waist and he lifted her off his cock. “But why talk about him? You chose me this night.”
Knowing he thought they’d shared enough with the watchers, she let him push her down the bed. By flipping her hand, she pulled the sheet over her head.
His laughter was low and husky. “Are you shy? We all saw how well you pleasured Wolf last night.”
“Last night’s demonstration served a purpose,” she gritted out.
His fingers twisted in her hair as he pushed the top of her head lower. He bent his knees and closed them around her shoulders to keep her where he wanted her.
Hidden under the covers, Fatin made a face. Then smiled and cupped his balls in her hands. She gave them a squeeze and slight twist, which made him gasp, then growl. His knees eased their hold.
Now that she’d made her point, she licked her palm and began to massage his cock, working him with a practiced intent.
The sooner he came, the sooner they could stop this farce. She needed to get that helmet away before the staff found it when they replenished the tables.
“We’ve all noted the way he looks at you. Wolf,” he said, his voice coming through, muffled by the sheet.
Fatin slowed the motion of her hand. “What do you mean? If a glance could kill, I’d have been dead several times over.”
Through the sheet, he bracketed her face, and brought it directly over his cock.
“Not what we agreed on,” she hissed.
“I but pretend, as you told me to.”
Amused and annoyed, she bit the tip of his cock, but not deeply. Then she stroked her tongue over the place she’d bitten. What did it matter if she gave him ease? She swallowed the cap and resumed pumping her hand along his thick shaft.
His knees fell farther apart. His hands gripped her tighter. “His gaze follows you wherever you go. His face tightens. But it isn’t anger. Hakon thinks he’s soft for you.”
Her chest filled with pleasure. “Hakon’s an idiot.”
“I’ve seen it too. Why else would he ask that you be protected?”
“So that he will have first taste of revenge.”
“Perhaps. But think on it, Fatin. You know what he is. You know that a Viking, once his anger or his passion is aroused, will move mountains to achieve his goal. If you are now his goal . . .”
The thought was heady—more attractive to her than it should have been. But a lie. She sank her mouth deeply over his cock and quickened her strokes to finish him.
If she let him continue trying to convince her, she might begin to believe that more than hatred, more than sexual attraction, drew Eirik to her. But she knew the truth.
Fatin Sahin would never have a place in any human man’s life.
Eleven
Sweat beaded on Eirik’s upper lip, and he licked it away. Watching Zarah pleasure Livia, his blood heated to a slow, aching boil.
Aside from the wings, watching the woman before him was like watching Fatin loving another woman. Soft dark hair, like sensuous, gliding fingers, slithered and stuck to the thin glaze of sweat on Livia’s breasts. Rosy brown nipples beaded into sharp points and scraped across Livia’s paler brown. His mouth watered, imagining them scraping his tongue.
When she moved lower, nipping and sucking at Livia’s taut abdomen, producing shivers and moans from the woman whose legs moved restlessly open and apart, Eirik struggled not to grasp his cock and stroke himself. He could imagine all too well what being pleasured by Zarah would feel like, to feel the slide of the soft down and the stroke of her golden feathers over his body.
However, mindful of his promise to Fatin—one he’d made because he courted her cooperation, he told himself—he fought his arousal, breathing deeply to calm his heart.
Too bad his cock wasn’t quite so noble.
His sex stood at attention, tenting his satin pants. And because he was sweating, enclosed in so many sticky layers, he began to quietly disrobe.
Naked and much more comfortable, he thought on the fact that he’d gotten accustomed so quickly to his constant nudity. All the men, it seemed, were equally unabashed, treating their bodies, their arousal, with humor and a steadfast acceptance.
If he were home, he’d not remark on a man striding about with a cockstand—but only when the hour grew late and the children were abed. A joke, a gesture, soft laughter at the sight might occur, but there’d be a similar acceptance of a man’s natural needs.
In fact, for him and his brother, their aggressive sexuality was something to be boasted, to be held up for all with pride. Their ability to breed being a necessity for their survival as the ruling family within the Ulfhednar clan.
While their family had ruled Thorshavn for several generations, their crown wasn’t something assured. Each generation had to prove their continued strength of body and character. Every new day on their harsh planet was a test.
But had he already failed that test? Had his capture proven his unsuitability to succeed? His brother was the king now, but had never seemed disposed to take a wife or sire an heir of his own.
Eirik wasn’t eager to assume the position. Brother to the ruler held its own obligations and benefits. He’d played hard, battled to prove his prowess, swived through most of the comely women within his own keep, but never with an eye toward usurping his brother or assuring his own future.
He loved Dagr. Wouldn’t wish him harm. His brother had always seemed indomitable, a rugged, forceful man whose blunt ambitions were simply to keep his clan safe and healthy.
Now Eirik’s love of pleasure seemed to have fated him to live out his days in its endless pursuit. Not his own pleasure, though. And there lay the rub.
Livia sighed loudly, drawing his attention.
Stretched on the bed, side by side, the two women touched and petted each other. Slender fingers stroking over soft curves, trailing down bellies that shivered with delight.
If Fatin’s sister wasn’t truly aroused, she was a consummate actress. Her darker nipples dimpled; her nude labia swelled. When Livia rubbed Zarah’s clitoris with vigorous back-and-forth strokes, Zarah’s wings extended and quivered. With her head thrown back, tiny, broken, birdlike cries leaked between her lips.
Eirik watched, caught by her splendor, and wondered if she pretended in order to please the patron or indulged herself for her own sanity. He couldn’t imagine living for years in this environment and not becoming affected by the constant attention. The constant demand to be aroused, to touch, to love.
Fatin’s hard outer shell was brittle and thin. What would she have been like if this place had not left its mark on her psyche? He’d worked hard to pierce the armor she’d erected. Unless her surrender was also part of an act, a game she’d learned here.
The women rolled together, thighs pressing against mounds.
One wing stretched on the bed, and now both women lay atop it. Livia rubbed her back and ass against the feathers. “It’s heaven. You’ve yet to revel in her, Viking.”
Knowing that was his cue to join the party, he strode to the bed and knelt on the edge with one knee. His glance cut from Livia, whose languorous undulations and rosy cheeks proved her excitement, to Zarah, whose face, once again calm, was in stark contrast to the spiked breasts and the slick of feminine arousal that glazed her inner thighs.
Livia reached for his hand, then, cupping the back, guided his palm over the feathered edge of the wing Zarah had drawn up behind her. His fingers riffled the soft and silky feathers, which released a spicy citrus fragrance into the air. A blend of lemons and the white flowers in the garden.
The Falcon’s breaths shortened. Her golden eyes blinked lazily, then opened wide to meet his stare.
With a gentle push, Livia guided his hand to her shoulder.
He was surprised to feel a soft, fine down cloaking the skin along the top, then around the back to where the wings jutted from between her shoulder blades. The down was the same warm, pale color as her skin, which explained why he hadn’t noticed how far the down extended.
“Lovely, isn’t it?” Livia said, catching his gaze and smiling.
“Yes,” he said, smoothing his hand upward to cup the Falcon’s chin.
Zarah’s eyelids dipped. Her gaze slid to the side.
Eirik wondered how she felt, being on display like this. Touched as though she were a beautiful animal rather than a woman.
He wondered if the mix of bloods affected her mind as well, her emotions. She seemed so removed, so emotionally distant. Not something he could ever achieve. Not living here. Every day he spent inside these walls he grew angrier, more frustrated.
He’d not treat her like an object, like a novelty. Not speak of her in the third person as though she wasn’t a person at all. Not until he knew her better.
Catching her gaze, he held it. “Zarah, don’t you think our generous patron needs our attention?”
Livia’s breath left her in a soft, delirious laugh. “Gods, Wolf, I thought you’d never get down to business.”
Eirik lay beside Livia, opposite Zarah, whose hand stroked over the patron’s nude folds. He moved closer, slid an arm beneath Livia, and pulled her against him, her back to his front, her head resting on his shoulder. Eirik brought his hand under her long, dark hair and pushed it up, baring her nape, then kissed her there, trailing his lips and tongue from her neck to her shoulder. At the same time, he centered her buttocks against his cock and rode the crevice, stoking his own arousal with her warm globes heating his length.
Zarah moved closer, kissed Livia into a low, aching moan, then raised her mouth to his. The veil of calm she wore slipped. Her gaze was dewy; her lips parted around shallow, excited breaths.
How did one disappoint an angel? He gave her a gentle kiss, rubbing his mouth over hers in small circles. Her tongue pushed against his lips, but he resisted, groaning, his cock digging harder between Livia’s cheeks.
When Zarah bit his lower lip, his cock jerked, his mouth opened around a deep growl, and he stroked his tongue inside hers, bending toward her, over Livia, to ravage her mouth.
Gods, she tasted like honey. Kissed like a goddess—sweet, pure, silken heat. And because he knew she could make him forget his promise, he lifted Livia’s thigh, dipped his hips, and speared into her woman’s channel, fucking her while he continued to kiss the sister forbidden to him by his word and Fatin’s sad, doe’s eyes.
Fatin slid from the bed, not looking back at the man who lay with his legs splayed, cum sticking to his belly.
His eyelids drifted upward. His hard gaze speared her, then fell away.
Had he just remembered he had a wife? Did he feel shame? His couldn’t begin to match her own.
She made her way to a stand beside the door and poured water from an urn into a basin and quietly washed.
A whore’s bath. She dipped her hands into the water again, then let the water grow still. Moonlight shone on the surface. Her haunted reflection wavered. She’d been here so many times. After s
o many men.
She splashed the surface to erase her image, then dipped her hand into a pot of scented soap and scrubbed her hands together, sudsing to the elbows to remove the cum, the sweat, the scent of the man she’d just left. She hadn’t come all that far in four years, after all.
Shivering, she picked up her costume and slipped out the door, pulling the loose-fitting gown over her head and dropping the corset on the ground as she made her way down the corridor to the salon.
She didn’t pass anyone. Didn’t see anyone at all in the common room. Acting as though she didn’t have a single purpose in mind, she paused to eat a sliver of cheese and popped a grape into her mouth, then dropped the next one and bent to retrieve it, her hand fishing beneath the table for the helmet.
But it wasn’t there.
She straightened and glanced around. Had the guard come searching for it? Or had the staff found it? “Damn, damn,” she whispered furiously.
All for nothing. She stalked out of the building, heading straight for the tram, hoping the guard she’d knocked out wouldn’t be waiting there with friends to punish her. But no gray uniforms lurked.
Waiting on the tram platform for the commuter to arrive, she avoided the bright lights, staying in the shadows as workers milled about, talking softly among themselves as they too killed time until the conveyance arrived to take them home.
A footstep scraped behind her, and she whirled, fists coming up. But it was Baraq, leaning toward her with a finger to his lips for her to keep silent, then drawing back into the shadows.
She faced the tracks again and glanced around. No one had noticed her alarm. No one watched. “What are you doing here?” she whispered harshly.
“Making sure you come back to us, bounty hunter,” he said, his warm voice evenly pitched. “Too many places you could disappear, if you skipped our stop. Did you get your audience?”
Fatin shook her head. “No, but Aliyah said I can see my sister tomorrow.”
Enslaved by a Viking Page 14
