The Hunted

by Jaid Black

  Peggy let out a breath of relief, then hesitated, wondering why she’d cared to begin with. Wouldn’t a bride who wants nothing at all to do with the groom actually prefer a polygamous marriage? After all, she conceded, it meant that he’d be less likely to bother her for sex all the time.

  Her eyes drifted up to the six-pack belly rippling beneath his tunic. Yeah, she frowned, sex would be a real bother.

  “Remember the cage,” Peggy absently said to Michelle. “This won’t seem so bad if you think about that horrible cage.”

  Michelle’s body stilled. “Right,” she whispered. “How could I forget that.”

  Geirwolf came to a halt in front of Peggy, his possessive gaze raking over her breasts and then her trimmed coppery-colored mons. She instinctively sucked in a breath, unwittingly causing her breasts to heave.

  “Hello Peggy,” Geirwolf murmured. “I’ve been waiting for this night for weeks.”

  Which meant he’d been watching her long before she’d been abducted. Her eyes widened.

  Long, callused finger threaded through her own. She glanced down to where their hands were joined and took a deep breath.

  “You have nothing to fear from me,” Geirwolf said softly, but firmly. “I will treasure you and your body always. Before long, you will come to me of your own doing, eagerly seeking out my arms.”

  Peggy blew out a breath as he guided her toward the center of the cavern. That, she thought resignedly, was precisely what she was afraid of.

  Chapter 11

  The well-lit cavern was grandly decorated for the ceremony taking place, gold and bejeweled dragon statues peeking out of the earthen walls, a large tapestry of Viking longboats hanging over the double doors. Natives began to pour in by droves, packing in to watch four of their warriors take four women as wives in a tradition as old as their people.

  Peggy would have been fascinated by the pomp and circumstance had it not been directly affecting her life. And, she thought through seething teeth, had she not been forced down to her knees, naked, and made to sit deferentially at Geirwolf’s feet as if paying homage to him.

  Naked and on her knees aside, Peggy hesitantly admitted, she was still fascinated by it all. She felt as though she’d stepped through a portal and been transported into another time and place—Norway in the ninth century instead of the Arctic Circle in the twenty-first. Even this business of sitting submissively on her knees before the bridegroom she knew to be a distinctly medieval tradition. Such had been a common gesture peculiar to certain regions of Europe in marriage ceremonies back then, though the modern romanticization of ancient days gone by never told you that much.

  She could feel the gaze of the men in the cavern looking her over, checking out her nude body. The realization that she was being assessed and evaluated, not to mention ogled, made goosebumps break out on her skin and her nipples harden.

  Peggy blew out a calming breath, then looked back up to Geirwolf who was listening intently to whatever ritualistic words were being said in that foreign tongue they shared. She didn’t move a muscle throughout the entire ceremony, just stared meekly at Geirwolf as though there was nobody else in the entire cavern except for him…just as she’d been instructed beforehand by Ivara to do.

  When she was prodded to say yes, she blew out a breath and answered yes. Ten minutes later when the gregarious officiator said some words that caused the natives inside the cavern to cheer, she rightly assumed she had well and truly been wed.

  Peggy nibbled on her lower lip. Good lord, she was married to the man who had kidnapped her.

  * * * * *

  Geirwolf watched Peggy’s eyes widen in alarm when two of his father’s men plucked her off of the ground from where she’d been kneeling at his feet and tied her down, naked and spread eagle, onto one of the three ornate beds that had been brought into the thing. Michelle, because she was a virgin and her husband would have bloodstained sheets to show the assembled crowd, was squirreled away into the breeding stalls to be breeched by Ragnar in private.

  Because Peggy was no virgin, she was forced to endure being publicly mounted that no warrior might make a future claim stating that her marriage to Geirwolf had not been truly consummated. If a warrior could make such a claim, it made Peggy fair game. And Peggy, he thought tensely, was definitely not in the game.

  He disrobed before the ornate consummation bed, his gaze never straying from Peggy’s. He could tell she was embarrassed at being splayed out like this in front of so many, so the faster he covered her the better.

  He could not blame her. Until this very moment, he had not given much thought to how callous it was for the men to gather around and watch a new, and presumably terrified, bride be mounted. His wolf-blue gaze narrowed at his younger brother Bjorn whom he noted was staring a bit too intently at his wife’s exposed cunt. Bjorn merely chuckled as a reply, his eyes so like Geirwolf’s twinkling at his anger.

  Geirwolf’s jaw clenched. He had heard that an inebriated Bjorn had pulled Peggy down onto his lap when she’d been taken to the Commons by Ivara and the other trainers. That had been insulting enough, but this—

  “Relax, Wolf,” Bjorn teased in their native tongue. “I am but looking at the wench.”

  Geirwolf said nothing, though he continued to stare challengingly at his brother. He knew it was ridiculous to behave so jealously, yet he couldn’t seem to help himself. Always, the ladies had found Bjorn pleasing to be with. He was handsome with his black hair and wolf-blue eyes and his personality wasn’t so stark as Geirwolf’s. Bjorn didn’t carry the responsibility of knowing he would be leader to their people one day so he could afford to be less rigid in his thoughts and conduct.

  The brothers stared each other down until, inevitably, Bjorn’s smile broke. He nodded respectfully at Geirwolf, the unspoken promise to respect Peggy there in his gaze.

  Geirwolf grunted, appeased. He continued disrobing, throwing his finery to the wayside and stepping before his bride fully nude and fully aroused. He saw her nibble on her lower lip a bit as he grabbed his thick cock by the root and walked toward the consummation bed. Her stare grew wider as he came to stand before her and he found himself wondering not for the first time what it was she was thinking.

  Geirwolf took a deep, steadying breath as he crawled onto the bed and settled himself between Peggy’s splayed legs. He had been waiting to plunge inside of his wife for what felt like years. He had spent the better part of every day these past few weeks fantasizing about what her warm cunt would feel like wrapped around his erect cock.

  He didn’t want to rut on top of her like an animal, yet he deeply suspected that was precisely what he was about to do. For weeks he had hunted her. For days he had endured the knowledge that she was in New Norway, yet inaccessible to him…

  His gaze flicked down to his manhood then back up to a nervous Peggy. His cock was so erect that the engorged ruby head was painful, his balls so tight he knew this first time wouldn’t last long.

  Geirwolf’s gaze clashed with Peggy’s. Now, he thought possessively, his muscles clenching, she was all his.

  * * * * *

  Peggy’s teeth sank down into her lower lip as she watched Geirwolf settle himself between her legs. Cheers and jests were filling the cavern as males clamored closer and closer to watch the new husband fuck the new bride. Thankfully the cheers and jests were being spoken in their native tongue rather than in English, so she didn’t have to suffer from embarrassment at knowing what was being said about her.

  Still, she had her ideas. All of them mortifiying.

  Peggy could feel how intensely her nude body was being stared at by the men in attendance. And perversely, or perhaps inevitably, her body reacted to the knowledge. Her nipples were so stiff that it was painful, her cunt wet. When all she could do was lay there, splayed out and tied down, there wasn’t much reaction she could give other than the seemingly innate ones her body was eliciting.

  Being stared at through hooded eyes by so many handsome men was
more arousing than it should have been. Being coveted by so many handsome men while confident in Ivara’s promises that no man but Geirwolf was permitted to touch her was more arousing than she wanted it to be. And then there was Geirwolf himself…

  He had conditioned her body well, she thought nervously. The moment he had started disrobing, that steel-hard, muscular body of his visible, she had become wet. By the time his long, thick cock sprang free from his braies and pointed eagerly upward against his navel, her breathing had become increasingly labored, as if she was panting.

  He grabbed his penis by the base, the swollen organ looking even more impossibly virile juxtaposed against the backdrop of his heavily muscled arm with the menacing tattoo of a dragon snaking up it. Her breasts heaved once, the nipples aching.

  Geirwolf settled himself atop her and Peggy realized that, bizarre or not, she wanted him inside of her. For the past three days she had been mentally trained for this moment by Ivara, and for the three days prior to that she had been bodily conditioned by Geirwolf himself to respond to him.

  He placed the thick head of his penis at her wet opening, then gazed down at her, his icy blue eyes narrowed in desire. The large, callused palm of his left hand cupped her right breast and gently kneaded it even as he settled his big body between her thighs.

  The fact that he had decided to arouse her using her right breast, the breast not visible to the onlookers crammed against the bed on her left, further warmed her to the man. She rightly suspected he was trying to keep her aroused so the impending sex wasn’t at all painful, while simultaneously shielding the intimate act from intruding eyes.

  She blinked, finding such an act from Geirwolf incongruously sweet with the hard, relentless image of him she’d formed in her mind. And he was right—touching her was much more intimate than the actual process of fucking her. Any animal could fuck. It took meaningful caresses and touches to make the act something more, something infinitely deeper.

  “All will be well, Peggy,” Geirwolf murmured, his voice husky with arousal. “We need to do this but once in front of the others. After that, our lovemaking will always be private.”

  Lovemaking—he thought of what they were doing as lovemaking. She blinked twice more and glanced down at his chest.

  Peggy blew out a breath and glanced back up at him—at her husband. “I know,” she whispered. She smiled a bit, making his eyes widen. Apparently he hadn’t expected such a conciliatory gesture so soon. And, truthfully, she was surprised she had made one too. Nevertheless, his thoughtfulness in this regard deserved at least that. “But thank you for reassuring me.”

  Geirwolf seemed to want her more after that. His gaze was burningly aroused, his muscles clenched so hotly she could see perspiration breaking out on them. He shifted his weight onto his right elbow and, away from the view of onlookers, removed his left hand from her breast and used it to help insert the head of his swollen cock into her pussy.

  Peggy moistened her lips, desire knotting in her belly. Her breasts heaved dramatically, inducing Geirwolf to release his cock once the head was securely inside of her and play with her nipple—again so nobody else could see.

  But Peggy was beyond the point of caring who saw. She arched her hips as best as she could and threw them at him, blatantly inviting him to come all the way inside.

  Geirwolf groaned a bit, sounding half-delirious. His jaw was tense, his jugular vein bulging. Without any further preliminaries he gritted his teeth and, on a louder groan, impaled his cock into her flesh, seating himself to the hilt.

  Peggy gasped, an uncontrollable moan escaping from her throat. Thoughtfully, which she was beginning to learn was the norm where he was concerned, Geirwolf lowered his face so his sunny-blonde hair cascaded down the left side of her own face, shielding the reactions she made against the cheering crowd like a fan.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice clearly aroused. He groaned a bit more in response, apparently loving the sound of her voice mingled with words of gratitude he hadn’t expected to hear from her for a long time. But, again, his thoughtfulness in this regard deserved the words.

  He took her hard then, thrusting in and out of her pussy like an animal, mounting her as though he meant to brand her insides. Peggy gasped, her head falling back against the bed, partially unshielding it to the others. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of being stuffed full of Geirwolf’s cock, way beyond the point of caring what anyone saw or thought.

  “Fitta di er så deilig,” Geirwolf said thickly, his teeth gritting. He pumped her hard, thrusting in and out of her suctioning pussy faster and faster. “Your cunt feels so good…”

  She came instantaneously, the arousing words coupled with the arousing fuck her undoing. She could imagine what they looked like to the others, could imagine the way his steely buttocks looked as they clenched and contracted while his cock rooted inside of her. She managed to suppress the sound of her muffled moan by biting down on the sinewy strength of her husband’s shoulder instead and groaning into it.

  Geirwolf growled, then fucked her harder. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the cavern, competing with the sound of jests and cheers. He buried himself inside of her over and over, again and again, making her come until her pussy was sopping wet.

  After she came again, Peggy could feel Geirwolf’s body tensing up above her own and she knew that he was getting ready to orgasm. She opened her eyes and glanced up at his harsh face, wanting to see that second of vulnerability that would engulf his features when he came.

  “I’m going to fuck your pussy all day and night,” he gritted out, his voice hoarse. “Forever.”

  Geirwolf fucked her impossibly harder, greedily impaling her flesh over and over again. He thrust into her ruthlessly, reveling in the pre-climatic nirvana that was somehow always better than the climax itself.

  He held himself over the edge for as long as he could, mercilessly riding her cunt. His rough palm kneaded her bare breast, branding it, while his cock possessively branded her pussy.

  She could hear the heady sound of their flesh meeting, the sound of her cunt trying to suck him back in on every upstroke. He pounded into her flesh once, twice, three times more. And then, unable to hold himself back any longer, he thrust into her cunt as deeply as he could go, closed his eyes tightly, and came on a loud groan.

  Peggy studied his face, mesmerized by that few seconds of vulnerability that she knew would be there when he had an orgasm. As his body convulsed atop hers, as his teeth gritted and his muscles tensed, she watched his expression keenly, fascinated by the way his grim features lightened for that threadbare moment in time and he appeared no more menacing than a butterfly.

  “You’re all mine now, Peggy,” Geirwolf said between pants as he collapsed on top of her. His breathing was labored, his voice hoarse and firm. “Forever mine.”

  She bit her lip and looked away, nervously wondering how long it would take before her reticence had been completely chipped away.

  Chapter 12

  Swaddled in polar bear furs, Peggy sucked in the cool air of the above-ground courtyard, basking in the feel of fresh air and snowflakes hitting her squarely in the face. She knew Geirwolf wasn’t supposed to bring her here yet, at least not until she was an impregnated, fully-fledged member of their people. And yet he’d snuck her out into the courtyard anyway without Ivara knowing—yet another token of affection from him.

  “This is what we call a zaba root,” Geirwolf murmured as he plucked a vine-like plant from the ground. He snapped it into halves and showed her the sap that leaked from it. “It’s used by our women to make sweets with. Taste it.” He smiled as he handed the root to her. “It’s much like sugar.”

  Peggy slowly held out her hand, then tentatively reached for the plant. Her aqua gaze clashed with Geirwolf’s as their fingers brushed against the other’s. She bit her lip and glanced away, then nervously raised the root to her lips and sucked the sweet sap from it.

  His eyes track
ed the suckling movement her lips made. She blushed, wondering if he was imagining his cock in place of the plant.

  It had been a little over a week since she’d been married and already the man was getting to her in a big way. His persistence at wooing her was practically extraordinary, for she had been far from agreeable from the get-go. Peggy didn’t want her husband to befriend her, nor did she want to love him, so she’d behaved as petulantly as possible toward him and his overtures of kindness ever since their wedding night.

  Clearly, her grand plan wasn’t working.

  Geirwolf had met each of her acts of defiance—which ranged from simply ignoring him to screaming when he tried to touch her—with patience and understanding. He had stayed all but glued to her side the entire past week regardless to how she behaved, allowing her to vent her frustration and anger without becoming angry in turn.

  Clearly, his grand plan was working far better than hers.

  Peggy wasn’t the type to easily form close emotional connections with other people, and especially not with men. She didn’t trust males much and never had with the singular exception of her—may the lord rest his soul—father.

  It had been Peggy’s experience in relationships that when the going gets tough, men get going. She had expected that Geirwolf would be no different, so she had been more than a little surprised when she’d come to realize that no matter what she did and no matter how badly she behaved, he would never give her up. She didn’t know whether to be further frustrated or downright flattered by this realization. Her mind said the former, but her heart said the latter.

  “Why are you doing this?” Peggy whispered. Her head came up as she lowered the root from her mouth. “Why?”

  His eyes crinkled uncomprehendingly at the corners. “I’m not sure I follow—”

  “—Why are you keeping me?” she interrupted. She sighed and glanced away. “No matter what I do you still want to keep me. So let’s lay our cards on the proverbial table, okay?” She took a deep breath and met his gaze. If she didn’t leave this man soon she’d never want to leave him, she thought in a panic. “What will it take to get you to let me go?”