Sandra Hill - [Vikings II 03]

by The Very Virile Viking

  “You are so beautiful,” he said, and he meant it, too. Some men liked women with more flesh on their bones, but not him. Her body was perfect in terms of curves and slimness—not too skinny and not too fat. And he loved her round breasts with their rosy peaks, just the right size for his big hands. He also was partial to her indented navel…and her raven black woman curls…and the mole above her kiss-some red lips…and the arch of her foot…and her long, long legs. Plus, he liked the way she was not embarrassed by his perusal of her body.

  “You are beautiful, too,” Angela said.

  Well, of course, I am. I am a Viking, am I not? He was about to remind her of his big ears, but stopped himself. It pleased him that his appearance pleased her, even if he lacked the proper humility.

  What the future held for them, he had no idea. He still had the time-travel notion to deal with himself, and to discuss with Angela, especially concerning how long he would even be here in this time and this land. For now, all he could control was the present. And he was determined to make their coming together the best either of them had ever experienced. But how was he to do that when his need for her was so out of control?

  If he were back home in Vestfold, he would probably take her to the sweathouse, or lay her down on his sensuously soft bed furs, or show her the famous Viking S-spot. That latter could be employed in any culture or time, but he would save that discovery for more advanced sexplay…mayhap later tonight. For now he went over to Angela’s high chest to see how he might improvise. With a hoot of, “Oh, ho!” he pulled several silk scarves out of the drawers. Now, these had possibilities.

  “Magnus?” she inquired tentatively, drawing his name out slowly.

  “Shhh!” he said, and tied her wrists together with one scarf, securing them over her head to the spindle on her bed frame.

  “Magnus?” she inquired, more shrilly this time. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because I want to?” he offered. It was as good an answer as any. She probably thinks I am a pervert. Well, I could be, if that is what she wants. Ha, ha, ha! Bloody hell, my brain must be melting from the heat of my excitement if I am laughing at my own unspoken jests. He ran the back of his hand over his mouth to make sure he wasn’t smiling and inquired sweetly—or as sweetly as a six-foot-five-inch Viking with an erection the size of a battle lance could ask—“You are not frightened, are you?”

  “No. Just confused. We could have had sex against the wall in the living room, but you stopped because you didn’t want to take me in anger. Now you’re tying me up, even though you must know I’m willing. Is this some kind of Viking rape-and-pillage fantasy?”

  Fantasy? Did she say “fantasy”? Praise the gods! A woman who likes fantasy play. That was what he thought, but what he said was, “Huh?” He was a lack-wit, after all. Then he blundered on: “Oh, why must everyone repeat that rumor about us Vikings? Rape and pillage, rape and pillage. ’Tis just the bad reputation jealous Saxon clerics choose to give us. All I have in mind is a little forceful seduction.” Glory be to the saints and goddesses! Where did I think up that one? Forceful seduction, indeed!

  “Well, tying someone up is a bit more than forceful seduction, don’t you think?”

  “Do you want me to untie you?” Please, please, please say no.

  “Yes…no…I don’t know. I just want you to be aware that you don’t have to do this. After all, I am willing.”

  Talk, talk, talk. Why do women always feel the need to talk? “That is the problem.”

  “Pardon me. My being willing is a problem?”

  Mayhap I should put one of these scarves over her mouth as a gag. Nay, that would not be a good idea. Then I would be unable to kiss her, and I very much want to kiss her. “You are overeager…as am I,” he said, pointing to his still-rampant erection. “I am determined to make our first coupling special…I want it to last a good long time…but if I allow you to touch me—and I know that you would if you were unrestrained—the bedsport would be over afore it began. That I cannot allow. I want you begging for completion before I ever enter your body. I want to touch every inch of you, most especially your secret places. I want you so out of control for me that I could do anything to you, and you would not protest.” Sometimes I am so good I surprise even myself.

  A flush covered Angela’s face and swept downward. A full-body flush. He took that as a good sign. Yea, smooth as cream on fresh-churned butter, that is how smooth my tongue is betimes.

  “Are you sure this isn’t about revenge?” she asked in a raspy voice. “For my ‘torturing’ you this past week, as you put it?”

  Revenge? Hmmm. She did put me through hell. She does deserve “punishment” for that. He thought a moment. “Perchance a little bit of it is for revenge…but mostly it is for my lady’s pleasure.” Did I go too far that time? Too much sweetness can make a person gag.

  “Oh, boy!”

  Apparently not. “I am no boy.”

  “Oh, man!”

  “That is better. Now, should I tie your ankles to each of the posts at the bottom of the bed?” By thunder, the erotic fantasies that conjures up. But if I am not careful, this cock of mine is going to get so big, just with anticipation, that it will explode afore the main event. “Nay, I do not think that will be necessary,” he said with a coolness that he did not know he had in him. “Just one more scarf here.” He folded the piece of fabric and tied it over her eyes.

  “Oh, I don’t know about this, Magnus. I want to see what you’re doing.”

  Since I am not sure what I will be doing, perchance that is not a good idea. There is no battle plan here, dearling. Just me, acting on instinct, and my instincts in the love arts are mighty rusty. He laughed softly. “It will enhance your sense of touch.”

  “I think it is enhanced enough.”

  “Nay, not nearly enough.” Magnus had never been much into sex games. Simple lovemaking was his style, and it had sufficed well over the years. But it was so very important that he please Angela. He would do anything, try anything to make their time together memorable…for as long as they might have. He hoped he wasn’t trying too hard. “Now be still, dearling, and ponder over what I will do next. I will be back shortly.”

  “But…but…”

  With that, Magnus left the bedchamber and headed for the bathing chamber, where he intended to take a cold shower—or spill his own seed…anything to slow down his arousal for this love game he had started. In the meantime it would be good for Angela to anticipate what would come next.

  Not that he knew what that would be.

  He hoped she didn’t fall asleep waiting.

  Chapter Eleven

  Let the games begin….

  Angela was in the dark…in more ways than one.

  Magnus had been gone for what seemed like a long time. She’d heard the shower running, but that had ended at least fifteen minutes ago…though it was hard to judge time with her eyes blindfolded.

  He had been right about one thing, though: cutting off her vision had indeed heightened her other senses. She was more aware of her own body than if she’d been looking in a mirror or touching herself. Where did that latter thought come from? Fine hairs stood out all over her skin. Her nipples were turgid and upright; she knew that without seeing them, because they literally ached for touch—Magnus’s touch…or his mouth. Hot liquid pooled between her legs at the image in her mind, and she squirmed restlessly on the bed.

  “Magnus,” she whispered, sensing his presence in the room. Yes, she could smell the pungent scent of Irish Spring soap. And she could swear she felt his body heat as he drew closer.

  “Yea, sweetling, I am back. Did you miss me?”

  Is that a trick question? She nodded.

  “Speechless, are you? Now, that is a wonder.”

  “Are you mocking me?”

  “Nay, just gazing at your body…and wondering where to begin. Do you have any preferences?”

  Man, oh, man, is that a loaded question? “Come lie down beside m
e. I want to feel your body heat.”

  He did as she asked, placing himself on his side, up against her, very close. She imagined his head was propped on one hand. She could feel a hard part of him prodding her hip. “Are you cold?”

  She laughed. “Are you kidding? I’m hot, hot, hot.”

  He laughed, too, a low, throaty chuckle. Then he placed one hand gently on the side of her neck and leaned down to kiss her.

  She whimpered at that mere whisper of a caress, so needy was she already for his touch.

  His lips moved over hers, persuading her to open for him. Then his tongue delved inside, exploring her moistness before stroking in and out with carnal hunger. The kiss went on forever, employing both hard and soft lips; tongue; and teeth, till Angela’s whimper became a continuous vocal moan of arousal.

  Only then did he move to new territory.

  He stroked her shaven armpits and kissed her there…first one side, then the other. “I like the way women in your land are clean-shaven here, and on your legs. It makes you different from us men, as if there are not enough differences.” His lips tickled, and she shivered with pleasure. “And you smell good, too.”

  Thank goodness for Lady Speed Stick.

  He touched the tips of her breasts with the tips of his fingers, and she arched upward at the sheer ecstasy. For a long time he fondled her breasts, teasing them to a throbbing ache, till finally she moaned, “Please.”

  “Please what, dearling?” he replied, his warm breath blowing on one distended nipple.

  He knew what she wanted. He knew, but he was going to force her to say it.

  Pride goeth before the fall. Wasn’t that how that old saying went? Well, she was falling fast. “Please put your mouth on me.”

  “And?”

  She moaned. “Suckle me.”

  That hard part of him jerked against her side, but then he put his mouth over her right nipple and began to suck. His mouth was so very hot and wet. The rhythmic action of his lips was so tantalizing that Angela did the unthinkable.

  She climaxed.

  She stiffened and tried to stop the small ripples that passed through her female parts, inside and out.

  Magnus raised his head and seemed to understand what was going on, because he placed a palm over her pubic area.

  Oh, Lord! How mortifying!

  And then he gave similar attention to her other breast, which caused the ripples to continue, seemingly without end. She writhed from side to side, trying to remove his mouth from her breast, but he held fast, and pressed his palm harder against her mound.

  When she was done, tears streamed down her face. “I am so embarrassed.”

  “Why?” Genuine surprise rang in his voice. “I love how responsive your body is. Do you not know how much pleasure I get from your pleasure?”

  She felt him use the edge of a sheet to gently wipe away her tears. Then she lost her sense of where he was. Oh, no! Oh, geez! When had her legs gone widespread? Was Magnus really kneeling between them, as she suspected? And why was he so quiet?

  “What are you doing?” There was a nervous gurgle to her voice.

  “Just looking.”

  Oh, geez! Don’t be looking. Not there. “Looking?” The gurgle was more pronounced. “At what?”

  “You.”

  “There?”

  “There.”

  Is this not every woman’s nightmare? All her private secrets exposed? Her most intimate parts examined…and possibly found wanting? “Well, don’t,” she said, and tried to push him away with her knees and feet. The unsuccessful maneuver left her knees bent and her legs even wider apart.

  He just laughed. “Do not go shy on me now, sweetling. You are beautiful there.”

  Oh, my goodness! “What are you doing now?”

  “Still looking.”

  I am going to give him till the count of five, and then I am going to insist that he stop…looking. One, two… But then she felt his breath there and she lost her power of speech…or ability to count.

  Magnus pressed one palm flat on her lower stomach and trailed the fingertips of the other hand over her pubic hair, barely touching, just a hint of a caress. He did it over and over till she wanted to scream out her yearning.

  But then he moved to more interesting territory—the hot, slick channel between her legs. Suddenly she felt something inside her. So surprised was she that she yelped, “Magnus! Is that you…your penis?”

  “Angela!” Magnus exclaimed indignantly. “You malign me greatly. ’Twas a mere finger.” He withdrew it instantly.

  In retrospect, she should have known the difference, but with her eyes blindfolded how was she to tell? She giggled at her mistake.

  “You find humor in making mock of my manliness, do you, wench?” There was amusement in his voice now. “Ne’er have I had a woman compare my man part to a finger afore. The skalds would write a saga about this event, if they ever found out…which they will not. ‘Magnus the Needle-Cock’ or some such ignominious title, I would imagine.”

  “Really, Magnus, you make much ado about nothing.”

  “Ha! Do not ever tell a man the size of his man part is nothing.”

  Angela was about to tell Magnus that he had nothing to worry about in that department when he began to touch her most sensitive places with light strokes that bespoke an expertise she didn’t want to think about. When the light strokes turned to thrumming vibrations against the heart of her, she felt a new climax coming, and she didn’t want it to happen this way again.

  “Enough, Magnus! Untie me. I do not want to come again without seeing you, or touching you.”

  “You are a demanding mistress,” he said in a growl, but immediately followed her commands. Thank God!

  She blinked her eyes several times to adjust to the light. Then she noticed how she lay spread-legged on the bed with Magnus kneeling between her thighs. The erection that stood out from the thatch of hair at his groin was thick and blue-veined and very, very impressive…a compliment to herself, she chose to believe.

  Opening her arms, she leaned upward, “Come here, darling. Enough games! Let’s make love.”

  “Whate’er you say, dearling.” Magnus braced his elbows on either side of her head and gently settled his much heavier body over hers. Then, holding her eyes, with his fingertips bracketing her face, he began to enter her…inch by glorious inch by glorious inch…till she was full with him.

  She whimpered softly, but not from pain. It was all the delicious sensation assailing her. Magnus spasmed slightly as her inner walls shifted around him. Her breasts ached with torturous ecstasy. Her heart thrummed madly.

  “Come…with me,” he encouraged.

  As if she needed such encouragement!

  At first he withdrew and entered her with long, slow strokes that were a delicious torment. Her body was tensing for some cataclysmic event, and she wanted more. “Harder! Quicker!” she finally pleaded. I can’t believe I actually said that aloud. But her arousal was making her frantic, clouding her mind, loosing her tongue.

  Instead he moved even slower. But he was panting as he did so, and Angela knew he was as turned on as she was. He was just able to control it better.

  She pounded his chest with her fists when the stubborn man stopped altogether, fully imbedded, and watched the play of emotions on her face, especially when he deliberately shifted his hips from side to side, just once, and a miniorgasm caused her to convulse around him. “Oh, oh, oh…” she cried out.

  Now he would surely start the real business. Now he would end this pleasure-pain that had her writhing from side to side, keening endlessly. Wouldn’t he?

  No.

  Instead, in one fluid motion he sat up on his heels, bringing her with him so that she straddled his thighs. “Like this, Angela,” he said huskily. He began to thrust his hips against hers and at the same time put his hands on her buttocks to show her the counterpoint rhythm he wanted her to follow.

  Her orgasm came as she bucked against his belly
, the pistonlike strokes of his penis inflaming her senses. But it was not enough. Even as she convulsed around him, he continued to pound her, and she wanted more. She threw her head back and strained against the terrible/wonderful tension that continued to ripple over her entire body. When he leaned his head down and took one breast into his mouth and bit gently on the nipple, she climaxed instantly…a hard, dramatic spasming that started in her woman folds and went out in seemingly endless waves to her belly and breasts and down her thighs.

  When that died down, she realized that she was on her back once again. As she was inhaling and exhaling harshly to catch her breath, another realization came to her: they were not nearly finished, and Magnus—her magnificent Viking—still hard as a rock and positioned at the edge of her cleft, had not been satisfied…yet.

  “Are you ready?” His brown eyes were glazed golden with passion. His lips were parted and panting. His nostrils were flared as he attempted to control his surely approaching climax.

  Need you ask? “No, I’m not ready. I mean, yes, I’m ready, but don’t you think we should wait—”

  Whoosh! He was in her again, and this time he meant business. No playful jests. No games. No half-sex, or extended foreplay. This was the big time. She saw that in the serious expression on Magnus’s face, and the purely masculine growl he emitted as he began to plunge into her hard and fast, the way she had wanted it all along.

  In, out, in, out, in, out, inoutinoutinout, in, out, in, out, in, out, inoutinoutinout, IIIINNNNN, OOOUUTT!

  “Oh…my…God!”

  “Oh…holy…Thor!”

  Angela screamed.

  Magnus howled.

  They came together in such a powerful climax that Angela’s body shook and Magnus’s hands trembled. In the aftershocks that swept over them both, as Magnus finally grew limp within her, he fell upon her heavily and rested his face in her neck, which was damp with perspiration, hers and his both.

  They fell asleep then, or passed out from lack of blood to the brain. But before they did, Magnus put his lips against her ear and whispered, “I knew it would be like this, heartling.”