Sandra Hill - [Vikings II 03]

by The Very Virile Viking

  “More…do it more,” he urged hoarsely.

  “Whatever you want, sweetie. Whatever you want.”

  A laugh escaped through his gritted teeth. “Never say that to a man. You ne’er know what he might ask of you.”

  Well, she didn’t know about that, but she was more than willing to comply with his simple request for more. She undulated against him so that now her breasts and her pubic area brushed his chest and stomach in rhythmic fashion. Between her thighs, behind her buttocks, she could feel his hardened penis…which seemed harder and longer now. A hot wetness pooled in her most secret places.

  “Sit up,” he urged now. When she did, he added, “Higher,” and motioned her to shimmy her body farther so that her bottom rested on his belly. Then he told her exactly what he wanted. “Give me your breast, Angela. You take it in your hand and put it in my mouth.”

  She hesitated. It was such an intimate thing to do.

  “Do it, dearling.”

  She put an elbow on the pillow beside his head. Then she placed her other hand under her breast, lifting it high so that the nipple stood out turgid and proud. Lowering herself, she gave him her breast, which he immediately began suckling.

  She whimpered at the intensity of excitement he generated there with his lips and tongue and teeth. His other hand played with her other breast, pinching it slightly into prominent pleasure-pain. She couldn’t hold her body still, so aroused was she. Because she straddled his wide body, her legs were spread to their limits. Thus, rotating her hips in a circle, she managed to rub the slickness of her engorged folds and the protruding bud. Is this masturbation or lovemaking? She decided that it didn’t matter if it pleased the man she loved, and there was no doubt in her mind that Magnus was pleased.

  “Come closer,” he choked out.

  At first she thought she hadn’t heard right. She glanced up and saw that his lips were slack with arousal and his eyes were glazed with passion. He waggled his fingers at her, indicating he wanted her up higher on his body.

  She knew instinctively what he wanted, and, as much as she loved him, she was not sure she could do that. But then some inner voice nagged at her. What greater love is there for a woman to give a man than her total trust…her total surrender?

  With a heated face, Angela placed herself so that Magnus could pleasure her with the fingertips of one hand…and with his mouth…without even raising his shoulder. It was the most embarrassing…exhilarating thing she had ever done. And when she came in this way, she felt as if she’d given him a great gift…and herself, as well.

  “You are so beautiful,” he said, watching her face closely while she came to orgasm.

  Angela felt beautiful. Tomorrow she would probably be mortified. Today she felt beautiful.

  “Ride me now, sweetling,” he said in a voice that was husky with emotion.

  “Don’t you want me to…uh, reciprocate?” she asked as she moved her hips lower again.

  “Not now. Mayhap later. For now what I want is to be inside you.”

  Magnus was a big man, and he was big there, so it took a little doing to lower herself down over him. She need not have worried about how she looked, though, because Magnus had his eyes scrunched tight and he was panting heavily. She was pretty sure she had excited him to the point of mindlessness. She was pretty mindless herself.

  “A little help here, Magnus,” she said with a laugh.

  Opening his eyes, he laughed, too, especially when he arched his hips up off the mattress, and her eyes almost bugged out. Then, with his one good hand and his other weakened arm, he showed her the way he wanted her to move.

  Just before they exploded with mutual bliss, he whispered against her ear, “I love you, Angela, more than life itself. I do not know what tomorrow will bring, but for today, just know this. I love you.”

  Angela thought that was more than any woman could want.

  Then Angela was unable to think at all.

  Summertime, and the livin’ is…

  August in wine country was a little bit of heaven.

  There was a lush greenness everywhere the eye could see. The air smelled of growing things…vegetables, flowers, grass—and, yes, grapes, most of all. The cycle of life so apparent in the land always drew strong emotions to the surface of even a big man like Magnus.

  Grandma Rose reveled in this time of year, too, especially since dozens and dozens of her prized rosebushes were in bloom. She grew almost one hundred varieties, of all sizes and colors, which was amazing to Magnus…first, that anyone would spend so much time and money to cultivate a flower, which yielded only beauty; and second, that so many varieties existed. There were not enough cows in all of the Norselands to produce the amount of fertilizer that Grandma Rose used.

  Now that Magnus’s shoulder was almost healed, he worked daily in the vineyards, and it was a labor of love. The people in this new land—California—took for granted the good weather, which would have been considered a gift of the gods back in the cold Norselands. Good weather was critical to all growing, and thus far the grapes at the Blue Dragon were flourishing. If there was frost in the spring, the grapes would never reach maturity. If the sun got too hot, the vines would just shut down in self-preservation. Too much rain and the flavor of the grapes was diluted.

  There was an element of gambling to a farmer’s life, whether the product be wheat or grape. But now Magnus was nervous. Only a few short weeks till harvest, and anything could go wrong.

  The vintners who would be buying the Blue Dragon’s grapes this year stopped by almost on a daily basis, wanting to make sure the fruit was just right. The man who had come this morning had walked all the aisles with Magnus and Miguel, randomly checking for phylloxera, which had apparently hit a vineyard north of them. Phylloxera was a licelike parasite that killed the vines with its saliva while eating away at the roots. There was no cure, except for digging up all the stock. Luckily the Blue Dragon was safe…thus far.

  Traveling workers, known as migrants, would be arriving in early September to help with the harvest. Angela had told him that they would hire at least a dozen for a three-week period to supplement the regular workforce.

  Speaking of Angela…well, thinking of Angela…there she was now. He put down the clippers he had been using to thin the clusters of grapes and walked down the aisle toward her. She was looking especially lovely today in silky white braies, leather sandals, and a black tanking-top. But mayhap she was looking so good to him because he had not seen her for the past five days while she worked in the city.

  She walked into his arms, gave him a long greeting kiss, then walked back toward the house with him, their arms linked. Dinner would be served in an hour or so.

  “Did you stop to see Jogeir?” he asked.

  “Yes, and he has improved so much, Magnus. It’s hard to believe that the operation was done only a week ago. He’ll need lots of physical therapy, and of course we won’t know for sure how successful the operation was till the cast comes off…still, the doctors are amazed at his improvement so far.”

  “’Tis a miracle,” he concluded.

  She laughed and laid her head against his shoulder. “Well, a miracle of medicine,” she conceded.

  “I visited him last night, and will go in again this evening. The healer told me that he might be able to come home tomorrow.”

  “I know, and he’s so excited. Grandma fixed up a bed for him in the den so he won’t have to go up and down the stairs with his crutches. He’s already planning on lording it over his brothers that he will be having a TV in his bedroom.”

  As they approached the house, they saw Matt Delaney, the young man from You-See-Ell-Aye who had been tutoring Magnus’s children these past two sennights. Right now he had Kolbein, Hamr, Njal, and Storvald, even Torolf, sitting at long tables, writing on parchment. Hamr and Njal looked up at him with pleading eyes and Hamr mouthed silently, Torture! while Njal mouthed, Help! Dagny and Kirsten had no doubt already finished their lessons for the day,
being the more willing students.

  “Hello, Mr. Ericsson,” Matt said, standing to shake his hand.

  “Greetings, Matt. How are they doing?”

  Matt rolled his eyes. “Actually, they’re doing very well, considering.”

  “Considering?”

  “Kolbein would rather be watching Sesame Street.”

  Kolbein glanced up at his father, but he did not appear too unhappy, in Magnus’s opinion.

  “Torolf would rather be working in the vineyard with you, but he has the motivation of knowing that if he enters high school in the fall, there will be dozens of pretty young girls to meet.”

  Torolf glowered at Matt, but it was probably the truth.

  “Storvald is a pretty good student now that he understands how important measurements are to his woodworking skills.”

  Storvald did not even look up from the parchment, where he was drawing lines with a pencil and ruler.

  “Now, Hamr and Njal, they are a different story,” Matt said, and sighed deeply.

  Magnus understood that sigh completely. Matt need not say any more.

  “These two would rather be doing anything—I mean anything—rather than read or write.”

  “Or do numbers.” Njal groaned.

  “Methinks the worst thing is reading,” Hamr said, “though I would like to learn what happens next to that Harry Potter fellow.”

  “I have an extra hour each day, Mr. Ericsson. You said you wouldn’t mind some tutoring yourself,” Matt pointed out.

  Magnus’s face grew warm and he shifted from foot to foot, even as his sons clapped and hooted with laughter. “A man is never too old to learn, but I must wait till after harvest. That is when I will commence.”

  “I’ll be back in grad school then, but my girlfriend, Marcy, is student-teaching nearby. Maybe she would be interested in tutoring you.”

  Magnus said, “That sounds fine.”

  Angela said, “I don’t know about that.”

  Torolf said, “Hey! How come Father gets a female tutor? No offense, Matt, but you are not pretty at all.”

  Kolbein said, “I need a nap.”

  Hamr said, “If I get all the answers right on my numbers tomorrow, can I get a bow and arrow?”

  Storvald said, “I am thinking of building a longship.”

  And Magnus escaped into the kitchen with Angela. The smells emanating from the stove and table were marvelous. Grandma Rose was making peach and strawberry preserves.

  Angela went up and gave her grandmother a greeting kiss on the cheek. Apparently Angela had come to see him first on her arrival home after being away five days.

  “Sweetie, I didn’t know you were back. I’ll be done here soon. Juanita is out in the garden picking some eggplant for dinner.” Grandma Rose glanced at him then, making a quick tsking noise when she noticed him taking some cookies from the cookie jar. “You’ll spoil your dinner.”

  “Never!” he replied with a laugh.

  Grandma Rose laughed, too. “By the way, a Dr. Neville called you today. Said he’d see you at the hospital.”

  He nodded and started toward the stairs. “Do I have time to shower before dinner?”

  “Plenty of time,” Grandma Rose said.

  Angela caught up with him in the hall. “Who’s Dr. Neville? I don’t recall that name among Jogeir’s physicians.”

  “He is a physician I met one day whilst you were gone. I am thinking about having a little snipping done myself. Would you like to take a shower with me, sweetling? I have missed you sorely…and I do mean sorely.”

  “No, I am not taking a shower with you in broad daylight with Grandma and all the kids about. What kind of snipping?” She had picked up a small piece of leather luggage at the bottom of the stairs and was carrying it up to her bedchamber, he presumed.

  “A vasectomy.”

  Angela stopped dead in her tracks, dropped the luggage, and didn’t even look backward as it toppled down the steps. “You? You are having a vasectomy?”

  “I agree it is hard to fathom how a man like me would consider being cut there, but Harry assures me that it is painless and very effective. I have not made a final decision yet, though. What…what troubles you, Angela?”

  She was staring at him as if he had stabbed her. “You were going to make such a monumental decision without consulting me.”

  He was about to advise her that she was not his mother or his wife…but luckily he curbed his tongue. She did have some rights. After all, she shared her body and her home with him. She was the woman he loved, who loved him in return. “Angela,” he began more patiently, “I have bred eleven living children. ’Tis more than enough for any man. Truly, I cherish each of my children, but I would not want another.”

  “Not even one of mine?” Her voice broke on a sob.

  “Oh, God! You are with child,” he concluded, putting a hand out to clasp her on the shoulder. “I thought you said that you were taking birthing-control pills, but then, they do not work perfectly; that is what Juan told Torolf. Oh, God!”

  She slapped his hand away and charged ahead of him the rest of the way up the stairway. When he followed her into her bedchamber, she informed him icily, “No, I am not pregnant. Lucky you!”

  Whew! “Angela, what is this about?”

  “I’ll tell you what this is about,” she said, but then she seemed unable to speak. When he started to approach her, she put up a halting hand. Finally she calmed herself and asked, “Having no father here, let me be the one to ask. What are your intentions toward me?”

  “Huh?” Uh-oh, I know where this conversation is headed.

  “Are you even remotely considering marriage?”

  Remotely. “Of course, but there are many other things to be settled first.”

  “Like vasectomies?”

  “Why do you keep harping on that operation? I will not have it done if you do not want me to. Really, ’tis not important.”

  Carmen was right. You are a dumb man. “Yes, it is important, Magnus.”

  A prickling of suspicion rippled through his thick brain, but he waited for Angela to say it herself.

  “I want to have a baby myself. Just one. I want to experience childbirth. To breast-feed my own child. To have a child with you.”

  Oh, nay! Nay, nay, nay, nay, nay! Ask me for gold. Ask me for jewels. Ask me to swive you silly. Ask me to lay down my life for you. But do not ask me to have another child. He knew his inner thoughts would be hurtful to her, so he kept them to himself. But he could not think of any words that would soothe her spirits.

  Apparently his silence was telling to her. Her shoulders slumped and tears misted her eyes.

  “I would not mind marrying you, but no more children,” he said as gently as he could.

  “You would not mind…” she sputtered, then spun on her heel and rushed into her bathing chamber, where she locked the door after herself, but not before telling him to do something to himself that he was fairly certain was anatomically impossible…although Balki the Braggart had once claimed to do such. But then, Balki was the same person who claimed he could tie his man part in a knot and still engage in sexplay.

  In any case, it was not the homecoming celebration he had envisioned.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Gimme a good dumb-man joke…

  Angela couldn’t sleep much that night, so she went down to the kitchen at five A.M. and plugged the coffeepot in. She had decided to return to the city for a few more days, to give Magnus breathing room and herself a chance to figure out where she wanted to go with this relationship. Besides, she had more than enough work piled up at the office, and her boss was beginning to gripe about her erratic hours.

  Magnus had hurt her deeply with his comments last night. He was clueless in his dumb-man finesse—or lack of it—but if nothing else, he was honest to the bone. And what he had said to her was his heartfelt sentiment. He loved her, but he did not want any more children. Furthermore, he probably preferred not to marry again,
after all his past bad experiences.

  “Angela!” Magnus exclaimed, coming into the kitchen in his work clothes—faded jeans and a T-shirt. She should not have been surprised to see him downstairs so early. He liked to start his day at sunrise. “What are you doing up?” Just then he noticed her luggage sitting near the door. “Oh, nay! You are not leaving again? Please let us talk about this.”

  She shook her head. “Not now. Give me a couple of days to get my emotions under control. When I’m able to think more clearly, we can talk.”

  “Do you want me to leave the Blue Dragon?”

  “No!” she practically screamed. More softly she said, “No, I don’t want you to leave here. Please stay. I’ll be back.”

  He sat down dejectedly on the bench across from her. “I do not want to lose you.”

  “I’m only going to L.A. I’ll be back by Saturday. Carmen invited all of us to the Cultural Awareness Festival at her college. It’s a two-day event featuring all different cultures, their history, their arts and crafts, their foods, their music.”

  “In other words, boring. If Carmen is involved, it will be ‘politically correct,’ as well. That is the right term, is it not? Holy Thor, I can just see it. Vikings who use their swords to chop wood. Indians who eat no red meat. Saracen soldiers who recite poetry. Saxons who abhor fighting. Byzantine warriors who discover their feminine sides.”

  “I promised Carmen that we would come…or, at least, that I would, with some of the kids.” She raised an eyebrow at him, clearly inquiring whether he would join them.

  He groaned. “Carmen hates me.”

  “She does not hate you.”

  “Then why is she always telling those dumb-man jokes in front of me? ‘Why is a man’s sperm white and his piss yellow? So he can tell whether he’s coming or going.’” He told the joke in a perfect imitation of Carmen’s condescending voice.