Sandra Hill (14 page)

And what did the lout do? He bloody hell stopped. And knelt betwixt her legs. And just sat back on his heels, studying her
there
.

“Look at you, Britta. Curly blonde hairs glistening with honey. I want to taste you, but that’ll have to wait. This time when you come, I want to be there for the party.”

He made no sense at all, but then Britta was nigh senseless with need.

Zachary reached to a table beside the bed and picked up a silver packet that sat next to his weapon…a piss-tol. Tearing the packet with his teeth, he then sheathed himself.

“To prevent pregnancy,” he explained, seeing her confusion. “Are you ready, sweetheart?”

“Ready? I have been ready for nigh on…oh!”

He’d raised her hips and slowly entered her. Bit by excruciating bit till he was firmly embedded in her woman channel, which shifted and clutched at him in welcome. Then he did something, twisting his hips, and she took even more of him.

He stopped and looked down at her face. His lips were parted. His eyes were a hazy blue. Perspiration dotted his forehead. And Britta knew that he was as aroused as she was.

Then he smiled. He just bloody hell smiled at her. “I’ve been dreaming about this moment for two years. You’ve been the star of more of my wet dreams than I care to mention. And now you’re here.”

She smiled back at him.

His manpart jerked inside of her, obviously liking her smile.

Leaning upward, she kissed his mouth…a shy, inexperienced moving of her parted lips against his parted lips. He moaned, which pleased her ever so much. Slowly he thrust his tongue inside her mouth, and for the first time she understood the significance of his thrusting tongue emulating his manpart, which was beginning to thrust as well. Long, slow strokes in both places, at first.

Britta soon learned the rhythm and met him stroke for stroke, especially when he took her hips and showed her how to move. “Like that. Yes. No, no, no, I’ll slip out. Oh, sweetheart! Put your legs here. Do you like that? How about this? Sweet mother! I knew you would be magnificent.”

Britta kept trying to take over control of this bedplay, but he would not allow it, even slapping away her hand at one point when she tried to touch the place where his manpart joined with her female folds. She was unaccustomed to being a follower, whether in battle or bed.

But what a wondrous thing this mating was! Truly, it was as if she and Zachary were one being. The joining was more than physical. Only he and she could fit together so well. The only key to fit a lock. A fanciful notion, that.

When his strokes became shorter and harder, she wrapped her legs around his waist, trapping him, or so she thought. She met him thrust for thrust, a rhythm that must be intrinsic to men and women under the lust frenzy, she mused. He grunted; she groaned. Still they could not reach that peak that spelled orgasm.

But then it happened, to both of them at once. Britta knew what it felt like to fall off a cliff. This was the same but different. Whereas her real-life fall off the cliff had been terrifying and deadly, this was an incredible blossoming of the senses. Like flying, soaring high till it was almost unbearable, exploding in a blast of sunlight, then floating downward in the fall.

In a haze, she watched Zachary rise from the bed and remove his sheath, wiping himself with a cloth. Then he returned to the bed and drew her close, her face resting on his still wildly beating chest. Kissing the top of her head, he murmured, “You are all I dreamed you would be.”

She thought about replying with some flowery words; most smitten maids would. But this was Zachary, the man of a thousand swivings. They were just words.

So, what she said was, “I did not scream.”

“You moaned a lot.”

“A moan is not a scream.”

“Are you daring me again, sweetheart?”

“And if I am?”

He lifted his head, stared down at her with mirthful eyes, and said, “Hoo-yah!”

Do Vikings ever ride horses…uh, men?…

Zach was happy.

Why that thought should strike him, was odd. But not really. His life since discovering Sammy had been nothing but chaos on a personal, professional, and emotional level. Britta, his good ol’ thousand-year-old girlfriend, had grounded him but good.

And, yeah, getting laid had that effect on a guy. But this was much, much more than that. When he’d met Britta two years ago, there had been an instant recognition on his part. She was “the one” or as close to “the one” as he’d ever come before. But he’d been too chicken to stay and too chicken to try to bring her home with him.

So what to do now? Maybe the answer was to just be happy. To savor those moments that life throws your way…and hope there’ll be more.

And, whoo-boy, there was definitely going to be more if Britta’s fingers trailing down his chest were any indication. The fingers paused to stir the curly hairs on his chest and test his nipples, then moved over his abdomen, then his belly. When she got to never-never land, she took his half-erect penis in hand and studied it.

He counted to fifty, silently, trying to get himself under control. Otherwise, this movie was going to be over before the previews were done.

“Can we do it again?” she asked.

“Baby, I thought you’d never ask.”

Taking her hand, he raised it to his mouth and kissed the palm. Then he tugged her up and over him.

“What do you say we have us a rodeo?”

She frowned in confusion.

But she wasn’t confused for long.

And praise God, the saints, and some long-dormant gene for sexuality, but Britta was the most uninhibited lover he’d ever had. Once she’d settled herself in the saddle, so to speak, she smiled.

“I like it.”

“I thought you would.”

“Can I move?”

“I would hope so.”

“Any way I want?”

“Oh, yeah!”

She arranged her legs on either side of him and rose up high. Pausing before she lowered herself onto him, she looked just like a Valkyrie he’d seen in a painting one time riding some otherworld destrier. All wild blonde hair, sharp Norse features, long-waisted and long-legged, beautiful beyond belief.

She was any man’s dream come true. She was
his
dream come true.

Then his sweet Valkyrie rode him hard. After that, she rode him gently…and slow. She bit his bottom lip, then kissed him boneless. She tongued his ear and whispered what must seem indecent words to her. She played with his nipples and was fascinated by his balls. Then she did it all over again. And again. And again.

He was in sex heaven.

So he fondled her breasts while she leaned over him, and kneaded her buttocks. He showed her how to brush her breasts back and forth across his chest so that the nipples were abraded by his chest hairs.

He fit so tightly inside of her. It was like warm oil caressing him with each stroke. He didn’t want it to ever stop, but he didn’t think he could stand much more.

And when he felt her inner muscles start to spasm—presaging her upcoming climax—he forced her to stop and not move, to prolong and intensify her pleasure. Three times he did this. And then she screamed.

As she rippled over and around his cock, milking him, he might have screamed, too. At the very least, he bucked up, over and over, making her work extra hard for this rodeo prize.

In the end, they both lay splayed on the bed, holding hands. He glanced over at her and said, “Britta?”

“Hmmmm?”

“You make me happy.”

As far as declarations of affection went, it was not all that hot. But then she smiled at him and said, “I’m happy, too.”

And then, bless her Viking heart, she added, “Can we do it again?”

“Baby, I have something to show you,” said the Big Bad Wolf to Red Riding Hood…

Britta awakened during the night to the sound of rustling.

Raising up on one elbow, she saw the sky was still black outside. And she saw Zachary by the light of a half moon pulling on a pair of small clothes…black silk ones with red stars imprinted all over. “What’s the matter?” she asked, yawning widely.

“I’m just gonna check on Sammy. Go back to sleep.”

Which she did, promptly. It had been a very hard, sleep-deprived week, and this might be her only opportunity to catch up. Of course, she thought with a smile, all that bedplay might give her body better satisfaction than any slumber.

It was still the middle of the night when she awakened again, but a stream of light came from an almost-closed closet. This time she found herself at the bottom of the bed, her bare feet on the floor, and Zachary kneeling betwixt her spread thighs.

“Eek!” she squealed and tried to rise up and shove the lout away.

“Go back to sleep, Britta. I just want to check a few things out.”

“Hah! Like I could sleep with you sniffing at my nether parts!”

“What is it with you and sniffing? I am not sniffing. I’m getting ready to taste.” He wagged his tongue at her, then dipped down to lick her
there
.

“Nay, nay, nay!” she screeched.

“Shhhh. You’ll wake Sammy. And you wouldn’t want him to see you like this, would you?”

She held her tongue but still tried to shove him away.

He put a palm on her belly and held her fast.

“Relax, sweetie. You’ll like this. I promise.”

“This has got to be depraved. Is it depraved?”

“Nah! Oh, Britta! What is this scar here?” He used a forefinger to trace the white line that she knew was visible on her inner thigh, high up. She tried to close her legs, but he wouldn’t allow that. “Tell me,” he insisted.

“My brother Erlend did it.”

He sucked in a breath, his outrage visible. “Did he rape you?”

She shook her head. “Nay. He wanted me to display my nether parts for him and his friends.”

His upper lip curled with disgust. “How old were you?”

“Eight. Erlend was twelve.”

“No wonder you needed to leave home.”

“I was too young then, but when I was eleven, Halvdan did attempt rape.”

“Another brother?”

“Yea. That was when I went to our castellan, begging for fighting skills. Halvdan ne’er tried again, I tell you that.”

He nodded.

“The final indignity came from my father, who gave consent to a Danish jarl for rape as an incentive to force me to wed, a rape I managed to evade.”

“The bastards! What did your father do about that?”

“A fist to my chin. Nigh knocked me out. My jaw still aches on occasion, a lifelong reminder of his rage, as he intended.” She saw the expression on his face and added, “Do not pity me. I survived.”

“That wasn’t pity, babe. It was admiration.” He leaned down and kissed the scar.

She sucked in air and tried to push him away. “Let me up.”

“No, no, no! No getting up yet. Have you ever looked at yourself down here, honey?”

“Nay! Why would I?”

“I want to show you something. Do you promise to sit still?”

“I am not going to promise…yikes!”

He’d put his tongue between her folds and was flicking it back and forth, like a pendulum.

“I will sit still if you stop that…that perversion.”

“Okay, scoot your butt back a little.”

When she’d moved back far enough that her feet were on the bed, he quickly, all in one deft move, raised her knees, spread them wide, then pulled her forward so that her knees and buttocks rested almost at the bed’s edge. “This is definitely depraved,” she said.

“Now look down,” he ordered.

She rose to a sitting position.
Nothing there to make such a fuss about,
she thought.

“See this here?” he said, pointing to a little rose-hued nubbin.

She nodded.

“It’s the center of everything to make a woman have fun with sex. It’s called a clitoris…or clit.” He touched it lightly, and she about shot off the bed, so intense was the sensation. “Now, I’m going to make you come, just by touching you there, but you have to sit still. Promise?”

“Come where?”

He laughed, even as he pulled out another of the silver packets and sheathed himself. “Climax. Have an orgasm.”

“Why are you putting that thing on if I am to orgasm on my own?”

“Because, sweetheart, at the tail end of your first climax, I plan to join in for the show. To see if you can have an endless orgasm.”

“Ah, multiple orgasms.”

“Bingo. But here’s the deal, babe. Let’s make this game more interesting. How about this? If you move, I get to tie you up and do whatever I want with you.”

“What kind of deal is that?”

But the rogue was already at work down below, touching her slick folds with his fingers, then his tongue and teeth. He fluttered the nubbin with a finger, even as he had two other fingers inside of her.

She tried to close her legs against the too-intense sensations he was creating.

“Are you moving?” he asked, almost with glee.

“Nay, I am not moving, lout.”

“Lean back on your elbows and let your heels touch your butt.”

He used each of his thumbs to separate her folds, then put his tongue against her and licked and licked and licked until she was keening her pleasure. Orgasm after orgasm rocked her body, a never-ending pulsing at that one spot, but then he slid his manpart inside of her and started the orgasms all over again. When one ended, another started, over and over till Zachary grunted and arched his neck back, blue veins nigh popping out. He peaked inside of her with a roar of triumph, and she orgasmed around him one last time.

So depleted was she that she was hardly aware of Zachary pulling her up to the pillows and cradling her in his arms.

She thought she heard him murmur, “I am so screwed.”

Oh, brother!…

“Well, well, well!”

In that hazy state of half sleep, half awake, Zach became aware of himself splatted out on his back on the bed, with Britta’s face mashed down on his chest, her hair spread out all over like a wild bush, and her hand on his cock.

“Well, well, well!”

“Holy crap! Not again, Britta. You gotta give me a chance to regroup.”

“Oh, I think you’ve regrouped plenty, Brother.”

Brother! That isn’t Britta.
He jackknifed to a sitting position, shoved Britta behind him, and had his weapon aimed at the doorway in a split second.

It was his brother, Danny, who had the good sense to duck outside the open doorway where he had been leaning.

“Sonofabitch!” Zach muttered. “You should know better than to sneak up on a military man. Especially one who has a jihad out on him. I coulda killed you.”

“Is it safe to come back in?” Danny inquired, peeping around the doorway. The idiot was grinning, not having the sense to realize that he could have been stepping into a land mine of his own making.

Britta was sputtering groggily behind him, a combination of outrage over his having shoved her behind him and confusion over his motive. When she noticed the man standing there getting a grinning eyeful of her naked body, she squealed and tried to hide her large body behind Zachary’s body, which was large but not large enough. He laughed and tossed her a blanket, even as he stood and walked toward the door. “It’s just my dickhead brother who doesn’t have the sense God gave a…dick.”

“Does he not knock?”

“Hardly ever,” Danny answered for him, peeking over Zach’s shoulder. “A guy misses a lot of good stuff if he announces himself. Right, Bro?” Danny chuckled, then murmured, “Whoa! That is one hot mama. Wanna share?”

“Get out of here, idiot.” He shoved Danny out in the hallway. Before he closed the door after himself, he told Britta, “Go back to sleep, honey. It’s not even dawn yet.”

Then he put both hands on his hips and glared at his brother. Danny was still in uniform—he was an Air Force pilot—and his duffel bag sat on the floor at his feet.

“How’d you get in?”

“I have a key. Had to practically wrestle some goon outside, though. Is that one of the guards Dad hired for you?”

“Yeah.”

“Probably some stunt man Dad knows on one of his sets.”

“Nope, this is a top-notch security firm. Great reputation. Expensive as hell.”

“The old man can afford it. Is he still boffing that Lolita that plays his daughter on the soap?”

Zach shrugged. “What the hell are you doing here, Danny?”

“Tsk-tsk-tsk! I’m just gonna crash here for a night or two. I’ve got a one-week pass. Thought you could use some help with the kid, but…” He jerked his head toward the closed bedroom door, “…maybe you’ve got all the help you need.”

“I can always use help, and Britta will be going back to the base.”