Because he does something with his fingers that makes me barrel toward the edge of orgasm with great speed. Soon, I'm babbling. Thrashing. Reaching for his head so I can mash his face into my crotch. It feels too good. Too intense. I can't stand to be in my own skin any longer.
He lets up on the tongue action and mumbles a string of what have to be filthy words in a voice that, while guttural, is also coaxing. I am spiraling up, up, up; my back now nowhere near the mattress anymore, my thighs, still draped over his shoulders, and clamped around his head like a nutcracker about to crush a walnut. He's not exactly laughing now.
With a finger in my pussy and his lips sucking my clit, holy shit, he begins to hum, and finally, the spiral loses momentum, and the spring of my orgasm snaps. I let out a high-pitched scream instead of speaking, my thighs seizing with their skull-crushing pressure, so loud and long that the walls must be vibrating and the local wolf shifters must be in auditory distress.
Gunnar, the talented bastard, grips me hard enough to leave a bruise and continues to suck and finger me through the longest and most intense orgasm of my life. Once it's over and my body collapses into an unformed puddle of satisfaction, I pant and catch my breath. My eyes drift open dreamily to find Gunnar looming over me, a glint of male satisfaction in his eyes. He kisses me again, long and lingering, and I smell my scent on him.
"You taste like a peach," he says, his voice dark and serious. "You are so wet for me, and your pussy trembles out of control when you cum. I'm going to fuck you now," he says, matter-of-factly. I'm still pretty much a rag doll.
He flips me over, grips my hips to position me where he wants me, and I hold my breath.
Chapter Seven
Gunnar
I have fantasized about this moment for months. Centuries, actually, although I must admit I did not have an image of a specific woman before I met Auntie. Not only is she different from any of the girls in my village, she came into my life so unexpectedly and was the first woman I have actually touched in many years.
I am pleased to discover that everything on my person appears to be in working order. My penis is hard as can be, and the familiar pleasure and sensitivity is like a balm to my soul. Moreover, judging by how my mate squirms and flops like a herring caught in a net when I spis en kusse, and she keens like a banshee when she comes on my tongue, I’m confident I haven’t lost my abilities for pleasure. She is so expressive in her passion; it makes me feel ten feet tall with the way she bucks and moans. For once, I consider whether Astrid might have been onto something when she cursed me. Without my curse, I would never have met my true mate.
I lick my lips, still tasting her, and take in the beautiful sight of my mate on the white sheets.
Auntie is ass up, face down, her bare kusse dripping with arousal. Bald cunts are a new development in the last few hundred years. Auntie's is quite pretty, the lips a deep brown and the inside a beautiful, vivid pink. Like a piece of candy I want to eat. Her blue hair is splayed out on the white pillowcase, and her body is relaxed. I have drained her utterly with my tongue and my fingers. My hands on her ass cheeks is a compelling sight, and I squeeze. She lets out the smallest of whimpers and twitches ever so slightly before going still. Her ass cheeks make me think of hot cross buns. The cleft of her ass is darker than the rest of her. Dark and mysterious. My pale hands on her dark skin is a compelling sight.
I pause before simply plunging into her, going deep into her snug, hot kusse, until my balls hit her clit. She was snug, tight enough to grip my finger as I toyed with the spot inside of her wetness that triggered her screaming orgasm. I run my finger up the cleft, rubbing her clit with a fingertip, watching her flinch and hearing her breath hitch. She waves her ass at me, and I chuckle again.
I give her ass cheek a firm slap, and she yelps. I do it again, and she moans, and something about that sound, something about knowing she's enjoying it, shreds my restraint.
I plunge into her, holding her ass cheeks firmly with my hands. I hiss as her wetness envelopes me, and I'm transported into a realm of fleshly pleasure more profound than any other I have ever experienced. It is, quite literally, coming home, in my heart and in my body, and I am momentarily overwhelmed with sensations. It has been centuries since I've been with a woman, and for that woman to be the woman of my soul is more profound than I can say. For a moment, it is all I can do not to climax immediately after entering her heat. My jaw clenches. My fingers curl into her flesh. My eyebrows knit together as I struggle to maintain my composure.
"Please..." she pants. "Please move."
So, I do. I slide in an out of her, savoring the sensation of moving inside her tight body.
"So tight, so fucking tight," I mutter in my native tongue. "I'm going to fuck this beautiful pussy all night long."
She twitches beneath me, wiggles her hips, and speaks again. "More. Harder."
I slap her ass again, and my hips slam into her without me consciously trying. I'm helpless to resist it. My body moves on its own, out of control, driving into hers again and again. Her pussy clings to my cock as my body flexes into hers, stroke after stroke.
"I'm sorry," I say. "I can't stop fucking you. I can't stop."
Her face is on the mattress, her head turned so I can only see her profile. Her mouth opens and closes slightly. Her body surges up the mattress with every thrust of my hips. Her arms are folded underneath her chest. I notice she still wears her bra since I got too impatient to completely remove it before attacking her tits. I did get her panties off, but I did nothing more than bunch up her skirt around her waist. I should stop being such a fucking barbarian and slow down, take her clothes off completely, be gentler, make love to her tenderly, tell her how much I need her, love her.
But my body craves something else, and my soul will settle for nothing less than her complete submission to me. I should be tender, but I can't.
"Shit, shit, shit," I say. Because I cannot stop, not when her body is so hot, when her ass turned up to me is so gorgeous, when her kusse is strangling me from base to tip. My body slickens with sweat, my mind blanks, my spine starts to tingle, blood beats in my ears.
She's saying something barely above a whisper. I close my eyes to savor the sensation of being awash in her body. It's too much. Too much. I grunt when her body clenches down on me and she lets out a long, low moan, so deep that I hear it and also feel it as a vibration.
I spank her hard. Once. Twice. I press her shoulders into the mattress and hold her in place as she finishes with a hoarse groan. Her completion triggers me. Intense sensation lances through me, making my body come fully to life, splitting my soul into fragments. I orgasm in long, brutal pulses and everything I am empties into her.
I collapse on the bed next to her. I pull her body onto mine, and we hold each other until we catch our breaths.
Hours later...
"What were you saying...before?" Auntie asks me. She's told me her given name is "Karen," but it is difficult to imagine her with that name.
In my mind and in the throes of passion, she is min elskede, my sweetheart. She is next to me now, leaning on an elbow, tracing my tattoos with a fingertip.
"When?" I ask, stifling a smile as I look into her bottomless eyes. I know what she means, but I want to make her say it.
She rolls her eyes. "You know...before." She looks away and blushes.
I raise my eyebrows and peer at her quizzically.
"You're such an asshole," she says. She pinches my nipple between her thumb and forefinger. I am not particularly sensitive there, but I make a show of looking affronted, and her eyes widen. I crack a grin. I take her hand, turn it over, and kiss her palm. She blinks and gives me a wistful smile.
"I honestly don't know," I say, trying to recall what might have come out of my mouth in the heat of the moment.
She cocks her head.
"Probably swearing," I say. "I haven't been with a woman for..."
"I know, I know," she says with a wry grin. "A thousand years, right? That mu
st have been..." She pauses, waving a hand as if conjuring the correct word.
"Strange? Weird?" I say, and she nods in agreement. "After a few years. Or maybe a few decades, it just seemed to be the way things were."
"It must be interesting..." she cocks an eyebrow at me. She is curious about me. From what I can see, she is not yet committed to this mating.
"It is, at times." I sit up in the bed, which is far too small for the two of us. We will have to get a bigger bed. I scoot up the bed, stretch my legs out in front of myself, and drag her onto my lap. I gather her into my arms, lean in, and whisper in her ear, "It is lonely."
She shifts in my lap, looking into my eyes, her expression softening.
"Really?" she asks. "You don't have another girl in another town?"
Her words are glib, but behind the saucy smile, I can see the wariness in her eyes.
"I believe you know that is not true," I tell her. "You made my heart start beating again. You are the end of my loneliness. You are my mate."
She lets out a low scoff, cuts her eyes to the side, and makes as if to pull away from me, but I don't let her go. "I don't know how you can say that—"
"Listen, min elskede," I say. She pauses. "My sweetheart," I say, explaining my words in Danish. I pull her into my arms again until her lips are nearly touching mine.
"You know what you say is not true," I say. I am agitated. I don't want to be dismissed like this.
Her brows knit together. Her eyes are no longer teasing. Her eyes are sad. Afraid.
"I'm not going to hurt you," I tell her. She shakes her head ever-so-slightly.
"You're not going to hurt me because this is not a serious relationship," she tells me. "You will leave again, and I will stay here."
It's hard to argue with that, although, by my count, I have just one more mating to facilitate before my curse is lifted. I sigh, not sure what else to say to her. I need to find my fated couple, get them together, then present myself to her as a man who is free and clear and available.
"We are just having fun," she continues with a smile, but her eyes are somber. "It's no big deal. We're kind of like friends with benefits."
I am speechless. Frustrated. She tugs away from me, and I let her. She is completely nude now, the bra and skirt eventually discarded sometime after round one of lovemaking. She picks them up. She steps into her underwear, then looks around the room, puzzled.
"Where are your clothes?" she demands. "You had clothes on when you got here."
"Did I?" I frown, trying to remember what I'd been wearing. "I don't really wear clothes," I tell her.
She narrows her eyes at me. "What?" she asks.
"It's a funny thing," I say. "I just kind of...visualize what to wear."
She shoots me a skeptical look.
"I don't need clothes," I say. "I'm either a cat, or no one can see me. I only wear clothes because I want to."
As I lounge on the bed, Auntie shimmies into her colorful skirt and re-hooks her bra by putting it on backward, then twisting it around and pulling the straps over her shoulders. Next, she pulls the t-shirt over her head and wiggles into it. As she recovers her beautiful body, I am bereft. Obviously, the fun times are over.
My disappointment must show on my face because Auntie laughs at me, sits on the side of the bed, and takes my hand in her little ones, cupping them. She is patronizing me.
"What are you pouting about?" she asks, smiling and mirroring the pout I must now have on my face. Her eyes roam up and down my body in a long, lingering glance. She looks appreciative. And hesitant. I should be able to persuade her to take off her clothes and get back into bed with me.
I put a hand on her shoulder and let it slide down her bicep. She tenses, but her eyes still reflect avid interest...in me.
"Don't you have mates to match?" she asks and waves a hand expansively at me. "And would you please put some clothes on?"
I sigh. "I don't know who they are yet," I confess. "I get transported, then I have to figure out who the parties are. Usually, they are close. Within a few hundred yards of where the curse puts me. Do not ask me how it happens, it just does."
She looks puzzled. Thoughtful.
"Does my nudity bother you?" I reach a hand to my crotch and adjust myself. I am pleased beyond measure when her eyes track the motion and she licks her upper lip. "And what would you like me to wear?" I cock an eyebrow at her and grin.
She snatches her hand away from me forcefully before standing and beginning to pace.
"I think I know who you're here to help," she says. She proceeds to tell me about Duff Harrigan, newly arrived in Perdition, and Athena Richards, who arrived in town as an orphan and was adopted by the Richards family. She tells me about dreaming of the two of them, feeling vibrations as Duff drove into town, and realizing they were fated.
We have never before discussed Auntie's gifts, and I am impressed.
"Had you been with me all these years, I would have been set free of my curse years ago," I tell her. She scrunches her face and squints at me.
She stops pacing, and places her hands on her hips. "You should get going, shouldn't you?"
Auntie doesn't wait for me to respond. She turns on her heel, and with a swish of her skirt, exits the room. I dress and follow her. She's in the kitchen, slamming cabinets and placing sandwich makings on the counter next to the sink when I enter. Her kitchen is a tiny galley chock full of the sort of Bohemian details that are Auntie's signature style: gypsy curtains at the windows, a jumble of mismatched, vintage crockery, small glass bottles lined up on a floor-to-ceiling rack that covers the only open wall in the room, and threadbare, non-matching tea towels.
The day has darkened into night, long shadows slanting into the kitchen from the street. I stand there and watch Auntie bustle around the tiny space. It is clear she no longer wishes to speak with me. I have accomplished all I can at the moment, and it is time to do some matchmaking.
Chapter Eight
Auntie
I wake the next morning to the persistent buzzing of my doorbell. It is Sunday morning, and thanks to the dicking down I received from my invisible Viking friend yesterday afternoon, I slept like the dead last night. I try ignoring the buzzer, which seems to work at first. I close my eyes when the buzzing stops, settle back into the fluffy warmth of the duvet that still smells like my invisible friend, and begin to nod off.
My world begins to go black when the irritating fucking doorbell starts again.
"It's Sunday, for fuck's sake!" I wail, feeling the injustice of the moment.
I stretch in my bed cautiously, mindful of the post-sex aches and pains that come when your pussy cobwebs have been thoroughly swept away. I wince with the first movement, wonder if my hip has been dislocated, and wearing only a t-shirt and a pair of undies, gingerly make my way to the front door of my apartment. I look at the view screen of the camera pointed at the outside front door and see the sidewalk is empty.
Sighing, I turn away from the door. There is no effing way I will be able to go back to sleep. I head for the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee. As I spoon coffee into my French press, a loud knocking comes from the front door, startling me so badly that the scoop flies out of my hand and grounds go everywhere.
I believe I feel an eye twitch starting.
I stalk toward the front door, muttering to myself. In the peephole, I see the fisheye-perspective visages of my two nieces, Tu and Jasmine. I debate letting them in, versus murdering them for waking me up early on a Sunday morning. I decide to let them in and reserve the right to murder them later.
"Why are you here?" I hiss, my voice rusty from the previous night's shenanigans.
Jasmine and Tu exchange glances. Then Tu says, "We heard a rumor that someone at this address was murdered last night."
The two of them share snarky smiles, then burst out laughing, collapsing against each other.
I turn away from the irritating women, heading back to the kitchen to get my morning caffein
e fix. They follow me.
"At first, I thought it was Duff, that hot new guy in town," Jasmine says, rolling her eyes and grinning like a jack o' lantern. "I thought it was really fast work on your part."
I think about Duff, mentally squinting as I try to remember what he looks like. I recall thinking he was impressive to look at at the time, but really, once you've had a 1200-year-old Viking tell you he's going to fuck you, then he proceeds to do it for hours on end...well, I think I can be forgiven if I forget what other men look like.
"But Tu and I asked around, and while everyone in town heard you get your freak on, no one had any idea who you boom-chickaed with."
Jasmine punctuates the last bit with a shoulder wiggle and interpretive pelvic thrusts. Tu decides to join in on the fun, and my two nutty kinswomen simulate grinding and spanking one another, then bump their hips. Tu giggles so hard she can barely breathe.
I get my coffee steeping in my French press, then voice activate my floor bot to suck up the coffee grounds.
"It's a goddamned mystery," Tu says, once she's recovered sufficiently to speak. "Everyone was impressed with whoever has the swagger to make you scream like that."
I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Again, I ask, why are y'all here?"
Once again, my nieces exchange glances. Then burst out laughing.
"Jesus, will you two shut the hell up?" I yell, waving my hands. The giggles taper off, and Jasmine and Tu gawp at me, stifling laughs.
"I'll have you know; I spent the afternoon with a plump, orange tabby cat," I tell them. This is technically true, and I do not want to discuss Gunnar with these fools. At least, not until I know if I'll ever see him again.
They again exchange glances, this time, looks of horror. "That is all y'all are getting from me. At least, for the time being," I say, knowing that not telling them any details could mean they will run around telling the good townsfolk of Perdition that I'm into the house cat sex. My girls seem mollified with the news of the previous day's activities.
That Time She Broke Her Viking's Curse Page 6
