Should she try to give Bodin his knife? Stay back? The men fought their way around the dwindling fire in the hearth.
“That’s enough, Father. Cease this.” Bodin tried to reason between gritted teeth.
The old man stumbled back, knocking the empty chair beside the tub onto its side. “The girl is for me!”
The wrestling men closed on her. Chessa’s hands trembled, the weighty blade shaking in front of her as she tried to inch closer to Bodin’s side of the argument.
“You stink of mead!” Bodin scolded. “Go back to your quarters—”
“No!” Kaol grunted, the fight beginning to take a toll on him. Spit sprayed from his lips as he carried on in drunken anger. “I did not grant her freedom for you to have! She was to warm my bed tonight!”
“Chessa earned her freedom from you.” Bodin pushed his father against the wall, wresting the knife temporarily into his own control.
On wobbling legs, Chessa pressed herself into the corner, dropping her head back for a moment, swallowing the shock of Kaol’s words. The old Viking was not the man of honor she’d thought. He’d planned to see her in his bed…this very night…when she returned from the hall….
Kaol had planned to—
Her legs shook, bile churning in her stomach. She could scarcely grab ahold of the truth. He would have never agreed to return her to her home—that was never his intention. He’d planned to use the freedom she’d earned against her.
Kaol swung his fist at Bodin and missed. “Your mother only lived so long”—he gasped for air—“to spite me.” The old man began to run out of steam. “She knew I wanted more children….” He tried to breathe but could only cough.
Chessa’s heart pounded in her chest. The lump in her throat thickened, cutting off most of her air. Kaol had had no intention of allowing her out of his household, not with any measure of real freedom. She sucked in a fractured breath. He would have allowed her to keep his protection by becoming a whore. His whore. Good only to bear his children and keep his house. Nothing more. Not far different than the women he kept imprisoned for the soldiers to take their pleasure with at any time, day or night.
Her bottom lip trembled. Tears rimmed her eyes, blurring her vision. If she hadn’t braved to speak to Bodin when she did, to gamble herself as payment—
“Chessa! Look out!” The chair splintered as Bodin sprawled sideways.
Startled, Chessa stiffened at the unexpected blur of motion that loomed and then slammed into her. The jolt shook large tears from her lashes and onto her cheeks. Eyes wide, she looked into a face contorted with shock and pain. A rush of foul air hissed at her, and she squeezed her eyes shut.
Kaol slumped forward in silence, pressing with increasing weight onto her as she slid to the floor. The blunt end of the dagger’s bone handle dug painfully between her breasts.
“Chessa!” Bodin pulled at his father’s excessive body. “Chessa!”
As Kaol’s crushing weight rolled off her, the handle of Bodin’s dagger slipped from her hands. The blade had lodged hilt deep in the old man’s chest. Chessa looked down, tilting her head to the side. She stared at the flats of her palms, covered in a liquid red.
Bodin dropped to one knee. “Chessa…” He pulled the hair out of her face so he could better look at her.
She continued to stare at her hands, turning them over and then back again. Blood?
“Chessa, look at me.”
Bodin’s words mixed with the loud buzz that filled the inside of her head. Something shook her by the shoulder. Odd, she thought as her fingers blurred. Her hands weren’t usually this color….
“Look at me!” Bodin cupped her chin in the palm of his hand and forced her to meet his gaze. “Chessa, are you hurt?”
Wide-eyed, she whispered, “There’s blood…” A numb, tingling sensation crept down her arms and legs. Chessa looked back down, trying to find a place to wipe her trembling hands clean. But her skirt and apron were wet through with blood, too. She swallowed. Hers? Was that why she couldn’t seem to move?
Bodin cursed and lifted her small, shaking body into his arms. He carried her closer to the fire, setting her beside the hearth. Not much wood burned, but the coals still glowed with a little heat.
He pressed his lips into a thin line, frowning as he plucked the fabric away from her skin. Chessa shuddered again, and he used the dagger he’d wrested away from his father to slice into her blood-soaked garments. Bodin peeled them off her and tossed them onto the coals. The fire caught and began to consume the dry edges of her skirts and apron.
Bodin rubbed his tired eyes and then gathered from his bed the clothing he’d bought for her. He paused. The soft bed gown had been chosen with special interest and purpose. Now he wondered if it even mattered. He turned around. Chessa sat on the hearth, naked and trembling, eyes fixed on his father’s dead body.
“By the gods,” he cursed under his breath, shaking his head. He moved to block her view of the gruesome sight. Clearing his throat, he kept his voice level and firm. “Chessa.”
She leaned forward, her forehead coming to rest against his thigh. “I—I’m sorry.” She wiped away the tears streaming down her cheeks. She slid to her knees before him, arms wrapped tight around his leg. “I didn’t mean to…” She hiccupped. “To…” Her shoulders vibrated in time with her sobs as she struggled to explain. “He—he was just there, and, and the knife…”
Bodin put his hand on the top of her head. “I know, Chessa.” He hooked his fingers under her arm and pulled her to her feet. Her eyes were red and swollen. How could he have been so foolish as to let this happen? He knew of his father’s fixation with the girl—he just hadn’t thought it went so far.
“I know you did not intend to kill him.” Her body trembled at his words. “Kaol was drunk and not of his right mind. You are not at fault.”
“But I’m a slave. Killing a free man is punished with death.” Her voice broke. “Or worse—”
“That is not going to happen.” Bodin pulled her against him. “That is not going to happen.” He would not let that happen. “Now, come. We must get you dressed and aboard my ship.”
A storm skirted the horizon, wind and waves slamming against the sides of the ship. Bodin pulled at the oar alongside his men.
But his thoughts drifted below deck to a small room. And Chessa.
He’d purposely kept her by his side, keeping an eye on her shattered state, while he finished the necessary preparations for the voyage, until, finally, she’d fallen into a fitful sleep at his feet, clutching the bottoms of his trousers. She had not wakened from her haunted dreams when he’d wrapped her in the heavy cloak and carried her aboard the vessel in the early morning darkness.
He looked to the sky and the position of the cloud-covered sun. It was well past midday now. Had she wakened? The vision of her atop the small cot, the soft bed gown clinging to every female curve and dark hollow, filled his mind, causing his cock to remain a steady affliction beneath the leather laces of his trousers.
A cold mist of salty ocean sprayed over the side of the ship. Bodin wiped his face on the sleeve of his tunic and dug the oar deeper into the storm-swirled current, pulling with every muscle he had. But no amount of physical exertion seemed to distract him.
He needed to touch her.
“I’m going below. Keep your eyes to the horizon!” Bodin shouted above the wind to the old man beside him. “Beach the ship before the full force of the wind hits. We’ll wait out the worst on land.”
The elderly man nodded, putting his hand on Bodin’s arm to keep him seated for a few moments more. “I was aboard the ship that brought the girl to our village, you know. Not one of us agreed with Kaol choosing one so young.” He patted Bodin’s shoulder in sympathy. “I’d known your father since we were but boys, and never had I seen him so…unreasonable.” The old man paused, remembering. “Even then, he was unnaturally taken with the girl.” Distaste in his tone, he shook the memory from his head. “She was but a
child all those years ago, far from capable of giving your father what he wanted.”
Bodin turned away. More children. Those had been his father’s words. And, specifically, more children from Chessa.
The defiant, green-eyed girl of ten years ago came to mind. The littlest one of all the slaves, who’d stood steadfast, refusing to take orders until his father had whispered some secret threat in her ear. Chessa had never dared show defiance to his father again. Bodin’s jaw clenched.
That very evening so long ago, Bodin had gathered his belongings and sought different quarters, despite the pleas and tears of his ailing mother.
Kaol had been no great hero, but the man had sired him. And for that, Bodin owed a debt. But Chessa would not be the one to pay—Bodin had seen to that before they’d left the village. No one would ever know his knife had been held by her hand. Bodin nodded to the old man and stood, making his way across the ship. Out of habit, he checked each rigging line as he went. Dropping to one knee on the deck, he pulled open the bow hatch, running a hand across his sleep-weary eyes.
Below, in the hold, the shipboards groaned and strained against the storm-tossed waters. Bodin pulled a key from beneath his leather belt, where no one could sneak it from him unnoticed.
The small room dimmed to pitch black as he closed the door behind him and secured the wooden bar, ensuring privacy. He’d spent many a voyage in this secret hold, but never with a woman at his fingertips. He adjusted himself against the chafing laces that held his trousers closed.
A rustling of blankets drew his attention. “Bodin?” Her whisper was almost lost against the sound of the waves crashing into the sides of the boat.
Her voice stirred his blood, heating him. He closed his eyes as his cock grew harder with each beat of his heart. His fingers ached to touch her, pull her small body to his and warm her as she did him.
“Is that you, Bodin?” Her voice wavered.
His gut tightened—had her mind settled from the horror of last night’s events? “Yes,” he answered. The air in the recessed room lightened noticeably at his answer. He unbuckled his belt. Bodin frowned as his cock continued to harden, demanding release and satisfaction inside her. His body tensed. He wanted her to have this one opportunity to afflict him with pained need—his own self-imposed penance for having had to breech her maidenhead.
“Are you still there?” Her voice rang of uncertainty and worry.
He moved forward with ease, familiar with where he’d placed his personal belongings for the voyage. “I’m here.” He reached out, fingers brushing against her cool, wet cheek. “Are you well?”
“Yes,” she answered, nodding into the warmth of his hand.
“The waves do not bother you, then?”
“No.” She sucked in a quick breath, unwilling to yet return to the heavy silence. “Bodin?”
“Yes.”
Chessa closed her eyes, leaning deeper into his large hand. After she’d wakened alone in the dark, she’d had no sense of time or direction—just motion. And even now, with Bodin this close, she could not tell if he suffered for her actions. Did anger or grief fill him? Her voice faltered. “What is to happen to me?”
His hand dropped away, and he sighed. “Not a thing.”
Her eyes flooded with tears. “How is that possible after—”
“Shhh…put it from your mind.” Bodin rubbed his tired eyes, dragging his fingers through his wind-whipped hair.
“Are you angry with me, then?”
Bodin sighed deeply. “No, sweet one.” He shook his head in the darkness. “I am not.”
“Then why have you sentenced me here?”
“I have put you here for protection, not punishment.”
“I don’t understand—”
“You’ll remember what almost happened on the beach with Gavit?”
She did. And he knew it. Her head, still in the comfort of his hand, turned to the side.
“I have a dozen men twice over aboard this ship, Chessa. What keeps them rowing and not down here fighting for a turn with you is their duty to me. And I see no reason to tempt them further than the knowledge that you exist.”
Chessa thought on his words as the ship pitched and rolled in the heavy seas. She relaxed a little.
“Now, tell me the truth.” With her there in front of him, easily within reach, he would not be able to wait much longer. “Do you suffer from last evening?”
The reminder brought Kaol’s pained expression to mind. The old man’s horrible words and twisted face were something she would likely never forget. And more than anything, she wanted to forget, to disappear in Bodin’s embrace and think of nothing but the smell of him, wood smoke and sweat. “Touch me.” Her hand went to his. “Please.”
Bodin caressed the side of Chessa’s face. His thumb moved to skate across her bottom lip, tugging at the soft pad of flesh as he whispered, “Are you certain?”
She nodded her consent against the calloused tip of his thumb. “Yes, take him from my mind…please.” Chessa’s hand went to his muscular thigh; the leather of his trousers warm and supple.
Bodin took his hand from her face and grabbed the rafter above him. His fingertips dug into the rough wood, a distraction for control. His other hand threaded deep into the mass of wild hair at the nape of her neck.
Chessa closed her eyes and leaned her weight into him, her forehead resting against his hip as she wiped the tears of worry from her cheeks, inhaling a shuddered breath. He didn’t hate her. A nervous relief rolled through her.
Tentatively her other hand went to his knee, palm inching upward along the salty, damp leather of his trousers. His fingers tightened into the tangled mess of her hair, holding her so she did not pull too far away, but not forcing her either.
Bodin took her hand and put it to his swollen cock, urging her to ease his need.
Chessa fumbled with his laces, the darkness making it difficult to find the ends and untie them. A long, deep groan rumbled from him at her innocent efforts, and he compelled her to move just a little higher. She was raised to her knees before him, the soft mattress of the cot a cushion. His fingers dug into the back of her neck, pressing her forehead to the hard muscles of his stomach.
The moment she freed the knot, his other hand slipped between them to hurry open the lacings and pull out his hard cock. Chessa gasped as he brushed it softly against her cheek. Deep inside her belly, a longing for the pleasure he’d given her before began to grow, warming her, taking the away the chill of worry.
He let go of her head, pleased she did not try to move away from him. “Take me into your mouth.” The instruction was spoken on a tense, exhaled breath.
Chessa swallowed, nervous, as his manhood hovered against the side of her face. She moved back, nearer the tip of him. Licking at her dry lips, her tongue accidentally grazed against him. He tensed, his breath straining loud and fierce from his lungs. Chessa froze. Had she done something wrong?
Bodin panted, desperate to control the need to press his cock past her full, moist lips and into the wet, warm depths beyond. “Suck my cock. But be gentle.”
Wary, Chessa admitted the tip of him into her mouth. His body stiffened and pressed forward. He tasted of salt and sweat, the skin startlingly smooth. The contrast surprised her, all softness and hard strength at the same time.
“More.” He strained to speak the word.
She braced her palms against the solid pillars of his thighs as he slid himself deep into her mouth until he reached the back of her throat. Shocked, she dug her fingers into the tense muscles of his thighs as she started to panic for lack of air.
Bodin backed off but did not remove himself completely from the sanctuary of her mouth. “Use your tongue,” he encouraged and grabbed the base of his cock, holding it steady for her.
Chessa did as he asked, relaxing as she began to understand that her attentions pleased him. She found she liked this manner of tending him, of affecting his need without her own being so close to the foref
ront.
But no sooner did that conclusion come to mind than he urged her higher. His fingers raked down the side of her neck, dipping low, beneath the neckline of her bed gown to caress the outside curve of her breast. He pinched her nipple. A fiery need flashed through her, increasing her need for air.
In an effort to distract Bodin from touching her just yet and finish the first task he’d given her, she dared withdraw the attentions of her tongue and take him again to the back of her throat.
Bodin sucked thick, salty air through clenched teeth. He groaned, struggling not to force the entirety of himself into her mouth. “That’s it, sweet one…faster….” His fingers dug painfully into the rafter seated just above his head as his balls drew tight to his body. “By the gods—” He snagged a handful of hair from the back of her head and forced her to still her attentions.
Chessa gasped for breath as Bodin pulled almost the entire length of his shaft from her mouth. Only the slightest bit of him remained poised between her lips. The sounds of his harsh, ragged breath made her nipples contract beneath the soft fabric of her bed gown. A throbbing heat pulsed between her thighs.
She swallowed, and her teeth grazed ever so softly against the tip of his manhood. His body tensed, fingers tightening their grip in her hair.
She so wanted to please him, to prove she could hold up her end of the bargain. But at the moment she didn’t know just what he expected.
A groan roared from him seconds before a hot, tangy liquid pulsed against her lips and teeth and into her mouth. Frightened at the fierce suddenness of it all, Chessa whimpered, fingers curling and digging into his rock-hard thighs. But Bodin held her firmly in place.
He remained frozen in a state of disbelieving and uncontrollable release. “Ye gods, girl….” he hissed, finally releasing her. Bodin slumped forward, bracing both hands against the inside curve of the ship, trying to slow the pace of his heart. “Have the gods no mercy….”
A long sigh blew past Bodin’s lips. He eased his considerable frame down onto the cot, trapping Chessa between his body and the wall. He was not done with her yet. Not in the least.
Pleasure of His Bed Page 20
