We Roam The Seas

by Theresa Marguerite Hewitt

  “Don’t do that,” he whispers, pulling her to him so that his lips only lightly brush hers. Teasing her; pulling her in, so that she’ll hopefully never let go.

  “Don’t do what?” She breathes, keeping her arms tight to her chest as he moves his fingers to wrap around her forearms, the rough skin brushing the sensitive flesh of her nipples, making her jump slightly.

  “Don’t hide yourself when you’re around me,” he smiles, pulling her arms away and basking in the glory that is her perfect body. The pale, round mounds of her breasts just begging for his attention. The curve from under her arm to her hip, wanting him to kiss and nip every inch of it. The way her chest is heaving up and down, her lungs breathless from his touch makes a fire erupt deep within, the likes he’s never known. Not in battle, not in life, has he ever felt like he does at this moment with this beautiful woman standing before him.

  Removing his hands from her skin for only a second, Asgar wraps the marriage sheet around her, pulling her tight to his chest in a swift movement. Freya melts into him, the rough feeling of the wool in his clothing bringing her nerves screeching to life. With her hands on his chest, she rubs them up and around the back of his neck tangling her fingers in his warrior braid.

  He lifts her up, carrying her before the stone hearth and letting the sheet fall to the floor as he crushes his lips to hers, his hands splaying across her bare back taking in the soft feel of her skin. Her fingers find the hem of his tunic and travel up to hungrily dig into his stomach, feeling and tracing his muscles as she pushes the material up, no longer wanting to wait to truly be his wife.

  Shoving the fabric up and letting him pull it off himself, Freya rakes her eyes over his magnificent chest and stomach, the heat growing within her at every move he makes defining and outlining his strength. Wanting him, she pulls herself into his chest, kissing the muscles and running her hands over his back, wanting to memorize every line as his arms encircle her and his hand tugs her head back.

  Looking into her eyes, Asgar can see that Freya wants him as much as he wants her, the desire making her eyes burn bright green. The flush to her skin and the rapid, shallow breathing as her fingers burn into his skin makes a possessive growl rip from his throat as he crushes his lips to hers with bruising force, feeling her hands travel down his stomach to the ties of his breeches as she opens for him, her tongue swirling around his and making him groan.

  Lost in his kiss, Freya fumbles with the ties, gasping as Asgar bites down on her bottom lip playfully. Feeling as if she might explode, she yanks at his breeches, hearing the fabric rip and he smiles at her, leaving her breathless as he spies his torn pants. The sight of her with her hands clasped around his waist band as she sucks in her bottom lip leaves him undone and he guides her right hand past the fabric, encircling her fingers around his rock hard shaft. Her eyes go wide and he can’t help but chuckle softly.

  “Lay down, Beautiful,” he whispers, kissing her softly and nodding toward the floor.

  “This is it,” she thinks as she looks down to the sheet bunched around her feet, spying a few pillows resting against the hearth. Her breathing speeds up, making her feel a bit lightheaded as she kneels, straightening the sheet over the woven rug. Turning over as gracefully as her shaky body will let her, Freya slowly lays down, looking up and finding a hungry look on her husband’s face.

  ***

  The way she looks at him makes his heart swell and as he slowly pushes his breeches down, revealing his need for her, he watches her body flush again, her eyes closing as her body trembles. Kneeling beside her, hovering his fingertips over her skin without touching it, his heart aches to calm her and push away the fear.

  “You know that I will never hurt you?” His whispered question floats over her skin, making her whimper and turn her face to him. She sees the sincerity in his words and she nods, taking it to heart that he will never hurt her on purpose. “Do you trust me to bring you pleasure?”

  “Yes,” she breathes out as he lies beside her, his hand resting on her stomach and her skin immediately lights up; wanting more.

  His free hand pulls her face to his, his lips covering hers softly as his other hand draws lazy circles on her stomach, making her muscles contract. His tongue sweeps over hers and, as she moans, leaning closer for more, he slowly trails his fingers down to her curl covered mound, hesitating only when she gasps and pulls her lips away from his.

  “It’s okay,” he soothes, running his thumb over her cheek while resting his hand on the warmth of her core.

  She is shaking and he pulls her tighter into his side. She nods, knowing it will be alright, brushing his nose with hers and captures his lips again. Leaning up on his elbow, Asgar plunders her mouth as her fingers tangle in his hair. Delving his fingers into the virgin curls and finding that sensitive mound of nerves, he loves the way she moans and throws her head back when he swirls his finger around it.

  ***

  The movement of his fingers is driving her wild, sending shocks and tremors throughout her legs that she can’t control. With her hands on either side of his face she pulls his lips to hers hungrily, kissing him as if she is possessed. She can feel something warm dripping down her inner thigh as Asgar continues to circle the sensitive bundle with the pad of his finger, his tongue searching within her mouth. As his lips leave hers, trailing down her chin, his fingers move slowly toward her core, parting her sensitive and engorged lips to tease her entrance.

  As his mouth moves to her breast, his teeth grazing her nipple, she gasps as his finger enters her, the strange feeling causing a blast of heat to fill her and her hips arch up to meet his hand, shoving the finger deeper. Asgar groans against her breast, the tight flesh of her core gripping his fingers as he slips another one in, slowly moving them to try and make what is to come as comfortable for her as possible.

  The heat building within her feels as if it might boil over and she moans again, rocking her hips up. Opening her eyes to stare up at the ceiling, the orange glow from the embers in the hearth casting shadows, she sees little white stars start to edge her vision as the pressure and heat start to overflow. She grips the sides of his face as he moves back to her other breast, her release shocking her as she screams his name.

  The sound of his name has never been so sweet and as her body trembles with aftershocks Asgar slows his fingers, moving his lips back up to hers. Looking her in the eye, seeing the sated look on her face, he smiles, lifting himself up and situating his body over hers. “The most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” he whispers, looking her in the eye as he removes his fingers to her groan.

  “Asgar,” she mumbles, still reeling from the pleasure rolling through her as he lowers himself between her thighs. Running her hands over his chest, around to his back, she pulls him tight to her, feeling him at her entrance.

  “Mmm, Freya,” he murmurs, slowly, painstakingly pushing inside of her, feeling the tight flesh try and resist as a flash of pain rolls across her face. “You are mine. Open your eyes.”

  The commanding note in his voice causes her to rip her eyes open through the ache and pain in her core, stretching for him as he enters her. Her eyes are locked onto his as his hand caresses her cheek, his lips meeting hers sweetly as he stops his movement.

  “You are mine,” he says again, each word bringing something to life inside of Freya and she throws her head back, grabbing his hips and pulling him to her, gritting her teeth through the pain as he fills her to the hilt. She hears him gasp and groan as he moves, rolling his hips while pulling out and sliding back in slowly.

  “I am yours,” she breathes out, nipping his ear lobe as he rocks into her, feeling the fire ignite deep inside again. Hearing the rumble in his chest at her words, Freya gasps as he rocks into her harder, his hand moving to the back of her head to hold her lips to his.

  The pain is nothing compared to the pleasure she feels as he continues to claim her, spiritually and physically, and as the pleasant pressure builds she whimpers in his ear, bit
ing and licking at his flesh. Arching her back and meeting his thrust, she screams out as bolts of pleasure roll through her. His muffled cry, his face nuzzled into her neck, makes her skin vibrate as his release fills her with his essence.

  ***

  Pulling her to his side as he collapses beside her, the two of them being still connected, Asgar’s lips never leave hers, their breathing heavy and erratic. She is his, he can feel it deep within his soul and as he kisses her with all he has he silently thanks the Gods for guiding him to accept this marriage.

  Tilting her face up, he asks, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Rubbing his thumb over her cheek and bottom lip, Asgar loves the sated smile that fills her face.

  “Hurt me? No.” She gives him a little laugh, snuggling closer into his chest as she basks in the look from his blue eyes. No, she can get over the slight pain. The warmth in her heart is what really concerns her for she doesn’t know if he feels it too.

  Lying in each other’s arms, they stay silent for a while; Asgar’s hands running softly over her hair and back as he kisses her forehead and nose. Her content sighs fill him with happiness to the point where he thinks he might go crazy as she nuzzles into his neck, kissing him sweetly. When he can tell she is starting to fall asleep, he pulls her head back gently, laughing at the smile that plays on her lips.

  “Let us move to the bed, my wife.” She groans as he tries to pull out, her hands shooting to his hips to keep him in place as her brow furrows and he laughs. “We can’t stay like this forever.”

  “I know, but it would be nice,” she sighs, sagging into him. She gasps as he grips her face, claiming her lips as he rolls her over onto her back once more.

  “Don’t think that this night is over or that you’re getting any sleep,” he growls, nipping at the crux of her neck, making the wanton blush return and she giggles lightly. Reluctantly pulling away from her, Asgar gathers her in his arms as he stands, swiftly moving her to the feather filled mattress.

  Freya sighs as her bare skin meets the comfortable sheet and soft mattress, her hands pulling Asgar’s face to hers trying to coax him into the bed with her. “Not yet, my beautiful,” he laughs as she pouts. Her hair is spread out around her head, loosened from their love making and forming what to him looks like a halo, making him smile down at his naked angel.

  Turning from her, he picks the wedding sheet up off the floor, the sight of the blood stain making his heart falter thinking that he hurt her. Returning to the bed, he kneels next to her, wiping her thighs clean of the crimson remnants as she squirms, wanting him to drop the sheet and make love to her again.

  He only smiles and winks at her, making his way to the door. Before opening it to the crisp night air, he prays to the All Father, asking him for the wisdom to not rip apart anyone that may be standing outside his door. Taking a deep breath in, he rips the door open, ready to disembowel anyone standing nearby, only to see nothing but darkness before him; the only light coming from the great hall below.

  Letting out a frustrated sigh, he drapes the sheet over a protruding nail. Giving the landscape another once over, Asgar shuts and locks the door, intent on keeping his new wife up into the early hours of dawn.

  ***

  Freya watches him walk, his muscles stretching and flexing until he’s right beside her, his massive arms caging her in with one on each side of her face. The look in his eyes makes her skin tingle as she watches him skate his attention over her naked body on display for him. Reaching up to cup his cheek, she rubs her thumb over the stubble filled skin, falling deeper in love with him as his eyes roll back and close, a deep groan filling his chest.

  “My husband,” she whispers, pulling him down on top of her. The smile that fills his face makes her heart skip a beat.

  “My wife,” he replies, covering her completely and pulling her close. She is his and he is undeniable hers.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~

  From the shadows, Eska watches as Asgar throws the sheet over the nail, looks around and closes the door to his cottage. The sight of the blood makes his stomach turn and a scowl fills his face. The sight of her blood is affecting him more than he thought it would and, as he hears her giggles fill the air followed by the deep rumble of Asgar’s voice, he turns and heads deeper into the woods.

  Bracka and Callen will be waiting for him at the waterfalls. He has recruited them to help with his plan and they were more than willing to assist. Eska is hoping they will also have some useful information about Asgar and his family that he can use to aid in his cause.

  He wants Freya to hate her new husband. He wants her to scream out that she despises the barbarian and then run away with him. To be happy with him.

  Stomping through the waist tall weeds, with the sound of the rushing water before him, Eska looks back again toward Freya’s cottage. “You’ll be mine again soon, Freya. I promise.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN:

  The cool, early morning air nips at her bare skin, hidden just beneath her robe, as Freya makes her way quietly down to the docks; a smile seemingly permanently etched into her lips. A warm shiver runs over her skin as she recalls all the things Asgar showed her last night, all the pleasure he brought to her body that she thought wasn’t possible. She has to stop walking; bracing herself against one of the boats needing repairs and closing her eyes, the memory of the way his stubble filled cheeks brushed against her thighs making her knees shake.

  As her bare feet meet the cold wood of the dock, she sees fishermen just off shore pulling in a net full of herring and throwing them in their small boat. There is a thick fog hovering over the horizon, making her think once more of the way her husband’s body covers hers so completely and she giggles lightly to herself, pulling her loose hair over her shoulder and mindlessly playing with it.

  She can’t deny it. She is totally, without a doubt, deliciously his and she doesn’t want it any other way. Yes, she would rather be back on her own island, where everything is familiar, but this, this is an adventure. Asgar makes her feel safe and loved, or at least she hopes its love and her heart swells just at the thought of his warm blue eyes peering into hers.

  Looking from her feet tracing an invincible pattern on the dock, back over the water, Freya sends out a silent prayer to her namesake Goddess and to the All Father; one that selfishly asks that one day, just one day, Asgar’s heart would be hers as much as she is his.

  “Lass, you shouldn’t be out here all alone.” The familiar voice shocks her from behind and, gasping, Freya turns to face Eska, her best friend, standing only a few feet behind her. His shirt is unbuttoned, leaving the top of his chest exposed and his hair is loose and messy. Freya wonders with a smile, in which girl’s bed he spent his night. His brown eyes flash at her and he grins. “Why the smile, Lass? Last night was kind to you?”

  “Yes, very kind,” she whispers with a blush, her eyes locked on the ground to keep her friend from seeing the scenes she is pretty sure are playing across her expressions. She wraps her robe tighter as she slips by him, suddenly remembering she is naked underneath and dodges the hand he shoots out to stop her.

  “Why the hurry, Lass?” He smiles, catching up to her with no trouble and wrapping his arm around her wrist. In doing so, he tugs her arm from her body, letting her robe fall open enough so that he gets a peek at her perfect, pale, naked front. It takes his breath away and, as he freezes, his eyes locked onto the prize he’s dreamed of for years, her screech falls on deaf ears, her struggle to free her wrist being feeble against his strong grip.

  Trying to hold her robe together with one hand, Freya smacks Eska on the chest, repeatedly, seeing that his eyes are locked on her chest. She lets out a frustrated screech again, trying to pull her arm free, while a heat of embarrassment fills her skin. “Let go!” She screams, tugging with all her might as a deep, angry voice rises from behind her.

  “Let her go.” His voice fills the quiet morning air and as Eska’s eyes snap up to over Freya’s head, she is flung to the dock by her own might, gra
sping both sides of the cloth and hugging herself tight as she spots Keir now hovering over her, his long blonde braid swishing at his back as he pushes at Eska. Getting to her knees, she hurries to stand as the two men start to share curses, Eska shoving the slightly bigger Keir back getting a laugh from her husband’s brother.

  “I am okay, Keir,” she says as she tries to placate him but he just shoves her behind him, yelling in his native language; his nose only inches from Eska’s face. They were drawing the attention of the quietly working fishermen and others from nearby; Freya seeing the faces turn their way. “Really. I am okay. He just scared me.”

  Keir turns on her, grabbing her by the arm as she keeps the robe tight to her body with the other and pulls her from the dock; Eska’s voice trailing off behind them as he drags her toward his brother’s cottage. “You shouldn’t be out here in that,” he almost spits, eyeing the thin robe in disgust. “My brother will not be happy.”

  An intense fear spikes in her heart at the thought of disappointing her husband and her heart starts to race. Up the cart path, her bare feet skirt the tall grass and the cool mud as Keir basically carries her, his long legs moving twice as fast as hers. Stopping just outside the door, he takes a deep breath in, not really wanting to get his new sister in trouble, but he cannot lie to his brother.

  Kicking the door open, he pulls Freya inside, the naked figure of his brother leaping from the bed and drawing his sword at the same time. “Hold on there, Brother.” Keir laughs, seeing the shock, fear, and fight disappear from his younger brother’s eyes; replaced with anger and confusion.