Pleasure of His Bed

by Melissa MacNeal, Donna Grant, Annalise Russell

  Hazy fantasies of acts she’d yet to experience shimmered just beyond her imagination. A shiver of anticipation rippled through her sensitized body. He knew her every thought.

  Bodin swept back the stray hair covering part of her face and then unclasped the brooch that held the heavy cloak closed. Erect nipples, dark and persistent beneath the almost sheer fabric of the bed gown, bewitched him. The gods willing, he could spend endless days at her breasts. His cock swelled, pained with an urgent necessity to be inside her.

  He gritted his teeth, attempting to delay his desire and take her with a slow, punishing pleasure this time. He needed to consume each anguished wobble of her full lips and revel in every moan that escaped her sweet mouth.

  Chessa’s tongue skated over her tortured, swollen lower lip.

  Bodin cursed under his breath and pulled his laces open with violent speed. He yanked the bed gown up to her waist, fingers digging into the small circumference of her hips as he lifted and plunged.

  The moment he entered her, solid and deep, Chessa cried out. But the ferocious pleasure that ripped through every inch of her did not explode and fade. Instead his arm wrapped tight around her, pressing her down even farther, filling her to the point of pain. Her head dropped back, and she cried out a second time.

  Bodin bent his knees slightly and flexed, pushing even deeper as a roar of frustrated relief accompanied the pulsing release of his seed deep inside her belly.

  Pleasure and pain assaulted Chessa’s senses. Instinct took control as her trembling legs clamped tighter around his waist, desperate to hold him trapped inside her body. The world blurred from existence as her insides convulsed again and again and again, unable to stop. As the clawing pleasure slowly subsided, she shook, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Bodin eased down onto his knees, keeping his cock well seated inside her. Not a difficult task, given how tight she was. He stroked the great mass of wild hair hanging down her back, comforting himself as much as her.

  He squeezed his eyes shut, but it made no difference to the distressing crush of guilt in his chest. Chessa shivered and tried to worm closer for warmth. Bodin buried his face into the soft column of her neck, breathing in the flowery scent of her hair. With a soul-deep sigh, he freed the knot binding her wrists.

  He had not meant to risk a child.

  8

  O n shaky legs Chessa waded naked into the pool of heated volcanic water. Bodin led their way, holding her hand. The storm continued to bluster, dangerous and vengeful. But, so far, the rain had not come.

  Hair blew in Chessa’s eyes as she struggled to keep pace with his confident strides. She watched the muscles of his back and shoulders flex and give, stealthy beneath his tanned skin. How different their last coupling had been. She hadn’t been able to get enough of him. Even now, so soon after, she wanted more.

  Chessa shivered, her nipples tight and tingling despite the warm water. Would he take her here, out in the open or beneath the water?

  Bodin pulled her against his chest and dipped them both under the surface of the heated water, disrupting the serious thoughts that had her brows furrowed together. Strong currents swirled beneath the black water tugging at them as he tucked wet strands of hair behind her ears.

  “I adore your hair. Do not ever bind it in my presence again,” he whispered, continuing to play with the long, wavy tresses that floated on the surface all around them. Many a night since she’d grown out of girlhood, he’d imagined those red and gold waves spread across his cot, his chest. Or his belly. He gathered as much of her hair as would fit in his hand and held it up. “I took a lashing from my father because of this.” A weak smile crossed his face as he weighed the handful of wet strands in the water. “But you got to keep it, all of it.”

  She looked up at him, eyes wide with surprise. But Bodin wasn’t watching her; he stared at his palm, lifting some of the tangled mass out of the water, watching it warp into curls before his eyes.

  “Why? I wouldn’t have thought…”

  “Thought what?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “That you’d have been old enough to defy Kaol.”

  He grinned. “You showed me the true meaning of courage that first day when he put you on display. You were arguing with him.” He let out a brief chuckle. “And in front of the entire village, at that. I took the lesson to heart. And you kept your long hair.”

  “Your mother never told me.”

  “She confided in you, didn’t she?”

  Nodding, she answered, “Some. Enough to keep me out of trouble with your father and the other men.”

  Bodin released her hair and returned his interest to her face and eyes, continuing to smooth down strands the wind worked to corrupt. “You were but a girl when my father took you. I knew you had lost too much at one time. And when you threw a fit over having it cut, as they’d done to the other women taken that voyage, I knew you needed to keep it. Needed to hold on to something of yourself.”

  Chessa looked down into the dark, murky depths of the water. Her old life…that all seemed so long ago. Her memories held so little of her home. Mostly she knew only a life among the Vikings. And just like the depths of the dark, volcanic water, her journey to her rightful home held much uncertainty.

  Chessa sighed. Had she made the right choice to return to her parents? Had she been wise to leave all she really knew for a place that, for all intents and purposes, may end up existing only in her mind? What if the few memories she had of her father’s home were wrong?

  Bodin stroked her back, easing his fingers up and down each bump of her spine. Did she worry as he did over the possibility that his careless action had added to their bargain?

  “Bodin?”

  He touched his forehead to hers for just a moment. “Yes?” He turned her around, sweeping her hair to the side and started to massage her shoulders.

  “Mmmm, that’s nice.” Chessa sighed and leaned backward into his diligent attentions, tilting her head to the side, inviting him to expand the scope of his touch. Her eyes closed as strong fingers dug deep and probing, softening the muscles in her back and neck. A soft moan puffed from her lips. She could stay here forever, if only he…

  “You’ve a question, sweet one?” he reminded.

  She inhaled a luxurious breath. “Does it take long? I don’t remember.” Would the storm delay them? By days, maybe? Staying here, alone with Bodin, would be so nice….

  “Does what take long?” He put an end to the slight distance between them as his fingers slipped beneath her arms, grazing the sides of her breasts. When he reached her waist, he pulled her body against his, nuzzling her damp neck. One hand slid across the flat of her tummy, his thumb rubbing in slow, small circles beneath her navel.

  “The voyage.”

  Bodin’s lips tightened into a thin line. “Why?” His hands dropped away, and he moved back.

  Chessa spun around but saw only the broad expanse of his back as he made his way to the shore. Had she done something wrong? She started to follow in his wake but could not move through the deep water with the same balance and speed.

  He climbed out of the volcanic pool, grabbing his clothes from the top of a boulder.

  “Bodin—”

  “Stay there. Have your bath, Chessa,” he said over his shoulder, not bothering to pause.

  She stopped, blinking in confusion. He’d used her name, not called her sweet one. A twinge of hurt twisted in her chest. He was just going to leave her here? Alone? And what about his men—would they come to bathe, too?

  Her breath shuddered, her eyes growing moist. This time with him, their bargain, was not supposed to be about her, had not been made with the intention of forever. She’d debted herself to him as a slave. And that, undoubtedly, was how he saw her. How he’d always seen her. Nothing more. Had he read her thoughts as he’d seemed to do before? Did he know she longed for more?

  For the first time in her life, “more” was almost a possibility. “But not with him�
��.” she whispered to herself. Tears dampened her eyes.

  Bodin would never seek a slave for a wife.

  Chessa scanned the rocks and trees, hoping he would be there. But he wasn’t. She sighed and took the cake of soap he’d left and moved back into the deeper water. If his leaving now was so unpleasant, what would it be like when he sailed away forever?

  A tear slipped down her cheek. She scrubbed at her arms and back with the soap, rubbing until her outsides hurt as much as her insides. Bodin was a man of honor. He’d keep their bargain. Of that she had no doubt now. He would sail her home and then be on his way. Had he wanted her as a wife, he would never have agreed to their bargain. Well, it didn’t matter. It would have to not matter. She’d take the days and hours this bargain allotted her and make the most of them with him.

  From high on a cliff, Bodin watched, hidden behind a tree as she scrubbed her hair clean. The scent of flowers would be gone now. Just as she would—all too soon, for his taste. “That’s just the cock talking,” he whispered into the wind.

  The drying cloth lay draped over his shoulder, damp. He rubbed the corner of it over his face, the harsh stubble of his beard scraping against the stiff cloth. He’d meant to take down his beard for her at the bathing pond.

  He dropped to his knees, watching as she climbed out of the water. Her small hands took the cloth he’d left for her, drying every covert hollow and visible rise of her soft body, touching all the places he wanted to touch and kiss and touch again.

  She slid the cloth across the small span of her belly, drying the supple skin he knew to be there. He cursed under his breath. He’d made a bargain. He’d have to keep it.

  Chessa held the front of the cloak closed over her naked body as she struggled over the rock-encrusted deer trail, trying to reach the tent before the rain. Thunder rolled through the air above her head, the lightning threatening to tear open the sky and release an angry rain.

  The wind pushed against her back, urging her to hurry.

  She pushed through the tent flap and into the candlelit sanctuary, scanning each corner. Disappointment pricked at her. She’d hoped Bodin would be waiting.

  A shuffle of booted footfalls accompanied wild, swaying shadows cast by the dying fire outside. Hope lightened her mood, and she moved back toward the tent flap, peeking through the opening.

  Erek stood there, talking with several other men. Where was Bodin? Clutching the cloak tighter around her, Chessa moved as far back from the flap door as she could. Bodin hadn’t wanted his men near the tent. Had they come for her, as Gavit had tried to?

  Her chest constricted, her throat suddenly dry and unforgiving. She couldn’t breathe. Where had Bodin gone? Rain began to pour down, a solid, rhythmic thumping that drowned out what the men were talking about. Or who.

  The tent flap opened a crack, held stationary by the blade of a knife, and then fell closed again. Chessa drew up her knees and wrapped her arms tightly around her legs. Had they harmed Bodin? Found him and killed him because he’d kept her from them? A cold wave of fear rolled through her, turning her stomach and numbing her limbs. Erek had said the men resented—

  A deafening clap of thunder boomed as the dark, hooded figure of a man burst into the tent.

  Chessa gasped.

  Rain doused the last remnants of the fire outside, and darkness dropped like a stone. Her lungs burned for breath, hands and knees trembling as she launched to her feet at a run.

  She ducked for the flap. Too late. An arm caught her across the stomach like a wall, stealing what little breath she had in reserve. She was swung off her feet and held by an iron grip as she kicked and struggled. Blackness began buzzing inside her head.

  “In the name of the gods, Chessa, what is the matter with you?”

  9

  S tartled, Bodin sat upright, the blanket falling to his hips as he listened to make sense of the sound that had woken him. From the branch of a nearby tree, a bird screamed. He rubbed his face, beard scratching his palm. He sighed, and his heartbeat began to slow.

  A dream, just a dream. The sound that had woken him had come from a bird, not a crying child. Not his child. His gut tightened. It had all been just a dream.

  He sucked in a chestful of damp air, catching his breath as he looked at Chessa, asleep on the thick layers of fur beside him. He rubbed his tired, dry eyes. He hadn’t expected her to bolt or for his arm to catch her quite so hard. And he certainly hadn’t meant to frighten her into fainting.

  Bodin cursed under his breath, remembering. Even after she had come to, she was still frightened and near hysterical but would not tell him why. She’d shadowed him for hours until he’d finally lain down and made her do so as well. And all this because of him, because of his selfish behavior. He clenched his jaw shut. Her question about how long it would take to reach her home had stung his pride. Had he really thought she might change her mind and ask to stay? In her place, he would do no differently.

  And now, with the possibility that she carried his child, the idea of leaving her on the shore of her father’s land was becoming more and more distasteful by the minute.

  Rain started to fall again, but softer and without the wind this time. Bodin pulled the blanket from his lower body, shedding the layer from Chessa as well. She lay mostly on her stomach, her soft, pale body bared, willing, open to him. If honor would force him to keep his part of her bargain, then at least he could take the time he had with her to create memories that would warm him in his bed on the long, cold nights of winter.

  His cock reared to life. Bodin fisted the insistent appendage, slowly stroking up and down as he shook his head. With her, it took so little to want more. To need every inch of her.

  The sun would not rise fully for a while yet, and then they would set sail on the tide. The currents would spirit them along, past the lands of the Saxons to the Gaels. To her home.

  Chessa let out a soft moan, shifting slightly in the cool, predawn air. Her fingers curled into the thick fur where he had been lying, the sides of her breasts peeking from beneath her body.

  Bodin clenched his teeth and stroked his cock a little faster. No, not again. This time he would take her slow, punish them both with pleasure. He reached for one of the drying cloths that lay beside his sword. Twisting the thin fabric into a soft rope, he slipped it beneath her wrists and gently tightened the noose. He knotted the ends around a staked iron rod securing one side of the tent.

  Bodin eased behind her, not ready for her to wake yet. He intended for that to come when he entered her. But first he’d have to quell his fast-approaching desire to spend. If he didn’t have forever with her, he’d make the most of every minute he did have. Bodin urged her legs open.

  Chessa sighed in her sleep, drawing one knee higher through the fur.

  The breath caught in his throat. She lay open to him completely, in view and access. He wadded the blanket he’d taken from over them, easing it beneath her tummy to keep her buttocks raised. He stared at her and shook his head. Unbelievable—the gods had given him a temporary mercy for his sins in this innocent temptress he had promised to leave ashore with the Gaels. He ran the tip of his middle finger along the entrance to her haven and deeper into her feminine folds.

  Muffled words of sensual, sleepy dreams crossed her lips on a deep, breathy sigh.

  Bodin made a concerted effort to slow his own breathing as he released his cock and knelt between her spread legs. And just in time, too. She shifted her body, turning her head to the other side and attempting to close her legs as she moved her hips to lay on her side.

  Her pale bottom swayed and wiggled as she resettled, belly down, hips tilted up toward him, thanks to the wadded-up blanket he’d placed beneath her pelvis.

  But still she did not wake. Apparently the gods had granted him some grace, at least.

  He continued to slide his finger gently into her quickly slickening sex. Her sleeping body responding ever so willingly to him, liberally coating his touch with the evidence of her
desire. He eased one finger inside her and was well rewarded with even more of her moisture. His cock grew thicker. He would spend soon. Too soon.

  Bodin eased his finger from inside her, bringing with it as much of her sweet, wet heat as he could to coat his pained cock. He stroked fast and hard, his hand sliding easily, taking only moments to spend his seed into the wadded blanket supporting her hips.

  Time, he thought, catching his breath. He’d just bought himself time.

  Still between her spread thighs, Bodin leaned back on his knees. She had such beauty, such sweetness. His heart ached. No. He shook his head. He’d have to put all that from his mind. He couldn’t just keep her. No matter how much he wanted to. Why in the name of the gods had he agreed to her damn bargain?

  She stretched, her back arching her tummy into the furs. An offering, a pleading? Even in her sleep she wanted him. And that drove him to need her again. Already his soft cock was beginning to revive.

  She was his dream, and here she lay for the taking.

  He ignored his growing appendage. He wanted to hear her cry out for him. Beg his name in her sleep, in her pleasure.

  Restless in her dreamy state of growing arousal, he remained between her thighs. The nest of curls between her legs shimmered, moist, waiting for him. And his cock grew a little harder, urging attention, but Bodin refused to oblige his body yet.

  Instead he waited a few moments for her to fall back to sleep, enjoying the sight of her spread open before him, better than any meal he’d ever tasted, or would ever taste. He knew that.

  Unable to wait any longer, he skimmed his fingers along the soft skin of her inner thighs, retreating when he neared his desired goal to start back up from her knee. Each time he neared her sex, her body quivered and she would open a little wider for him.

  Inviting him.

  This time his fingers did not retreat from their destination. He slipped easily along her opening and through her saturated curls to tease the surface of her sensitized folds.