One muscle-corded arm held her tightly around her waist, while the other gathered up the hem of her skirt. She tried to push his hand down, momentarily forgetting herself, but he swatted her hand away.
“Don’t,” he whispered, his voice cold like a dagger.
He pulled Aislin’s skirt up over her knees, and she squeezed her legs together, her cheeks burning at the thought of this room full of raucous men seeing her virgin body.
“You’ll learn soon that your body is mine, little girl,” Alrik said. “And if I wish others to see it, then see it, they shall.”
His rough palm slid up the inside of her thigh, pausing just beneath her bunched skirt, the trail he left burning her like a brand. Something deep inside of her yearned for this, aching at his touch, the touch of this brutally handsome, powerful man, but her conscious mind recoiled.
“You’re untouched, but soon I’ll show you what it means to be a woman.”
His voice was soft in her ear as his fingers inched slowly upward. She squirmed against him, and he groaned. To her horror, she felt his manhood stirring beneath her bottom, growing hard between her cheeks. Unwanted, a rush of heat blossomed between her own legs at the thought of him, aroused by her body moving against his.
“Keep that up, and I may take you here and now, little girl.”
His lips closed over her earlobe, biting her in a way that made her neck flush and her head spin. Then his tongue darted out, tasting her, and she barely stifled a moan herself.
What was this man doing to her? This was obscene, but his soft touches and the hardness of his body were titillating her against her will. She wanted to curse her traitorous flesh, but before she could think on it any longer, his hand moved higher, and his fingers brushed over her sex.
He parted her red curls and slid his fingertips between her velvet folds. Involuntarily, a moan escaped her lips and she leaned back against him. The feeling was altogether delicious—little jolts of pleasure rolling through her core as he stroked her secret place with sure movements.
“You’re a naughty little thing, aren’t you?” He breathed in her ear. “You’re wetter than a fish.” He moved lower, tracing her opening in a way that made her bite her lip to keep from gasping. He dipped the tip of his finger in, and she winced, squeezing around him.
“So tight,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.
A few of the men had noticed the display happening on their chieftain’s dais and shouted ribald jokes.
“Spread her legs wide!”
“Let’s see that red little cunt of hers!”
Her face reddened, a hot tear rolling down her cheek, even as she tried to hold it back.
“Please,” she said. “Please…”
“Please what, little girl?” The Viking chief held her thigh in an iron grip and began stroking her more vigorously, his thumb rubbing evil little circles around her aching nub.
“Please, Master… Make it stop!”
***
Lush Curves 6
By
Delilah Fawkes
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Lush Curves 6
Copyright 2013 by Delilah Fawkes
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All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.
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License Notes
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Lush Curves 6: Safe Harbor Page 4
