The Viking Wants Forever (5 page)

“Oommph!” Her attention drawn to the fierce warrior running toward them, she was easy prey and found herself sprawled face first in mud and the boy straddling her back. She moved to dislodge him, but the warrior’s sword point stopped her.

Reese’s eyes followed the perfect lines of cold steel until they branched off into a gold-inlaid hilt carved with twin bear heads. Her eyes ran over the intricacy of the metalworking before moving higher, over the battle-scarred hand that held the blade, and the muscular forearm dusted with a spattering of blond hair and burnished with a golden tan.

Her perusal continued up his arm and over the wide expanse of his bare chest, which was punctuated with several primitive tattoos, one of them being the twin bear heads he seemed to favor.

Unable to resist, her eyes ran over the rest of his body. She felt her pulse quicken at the sight of his indented abs and the deep v-cuts she loved so much, but only found in men’s magazines or comic books. Her gaze dipped lower...

Well hello, papa
! She whistled under her breath. Thick and slightly above average in length, his manhood hung limp between his legs. Reese thought her last real fling Eddie Szmanski was banging; but this warrior’s goods made his look like a Vienna sausage! 

Reese mentally kicked herself. What the heck was she doing? Probably seconds away from losing her head, and here she was checking out some guy’s cock!

Suddenly the boy moved off of her, ending her silent admiration.  When she attempted to get up as well, the point of the warrior’s sword stopped her. 

Immobile, but keeping her eyes on the weapon pointed in her face, Reese waited. After what felt like an eternity, the boy returned, sword in hand.

“Get up!” he commanded, punctuating his words with a kick to her side. Thankfully, he wore a pair soft leather boots or he would have broken one of her ribs!

“Why you little snot!” Forgetting the threat to her life, Reese lunged at him. She made it to her feet, but a six foot slab of flesh stepped between.

Reese’s heart literally dropped to her knees. The warrior who’d almost separated her head from her shoulders was none other than her mark, Eirik the Hottie.

* * * * *

E
rik eyed the cloaked figure standing before him and he itched to ring his neck for threatening his younger brother’s life.  However, he’d been talked out of it by Thoren himself, who reassured him that at no time was his life in any danger. 

“So what will you have me do?” he asked, his gaze shifting from the thrall to his younger brother.  “He must be punished for his impertinence and mistreatment of the family!”

Thoren shook his head stubbornly. “I will punish him. It is my right, since I am the one who was wronged.”

His young brother spoke the truth, but Eirik found it hard to give up control. Under the thumb of King Haakon, his life and those of his men could be disrupted at any moment. So on his land his rule over his people, including his family, was absolute.

“Go ahead and mete your justice.” Eirik stepped aside and planted his sword in the ground. He still wanted to gut the thrall from neck to groin for threatening his baby brother’s life, but he couldn’t keep babying the boy who’d lost both of his parents before the age of seven.

“I would have gutted him for his impertinence,” Bjarni said, handing him a pair of trunks.

“Why should a man lose his life over a child’s prank?” While he dressed, Thoren marched the slave by sword point down to the water’s edge.  A smile curled Eirik’s lips. Since he’d balked over taking part in
lördag
, the boy was going to break his will by making him take the plunge.

“The frost will be here before he’s done,” Bjarni quipped. Even with Thoren’s sword pointing at his belly, the slave took his time removing his clothing, shedding one piece at a time, until only his muddied cloak remained. He now stood motionless, staring out at the inlet.

“Thoren,” Eirik warned.

Aggrieved, Thoren jabbed his sword at the slave. To all of their surprise, he retaliated by swatting his hand at the blade. 

“I’ve had enough.” Born without a patient bone in his body, and eager to return to his own bath, Eirik marched down to the shoreline. He reached out, grasped the collar of the cloak, and ripped the garment from his shoulders.

“Blessed Loki...what mischief have you cooked up,” he whispered, drinking in the small waist, rounded hips, and sloped backside.

To confirm his suspicions, Eirik snatched the wrap from the slave’s head, and a mass of black locks twisted into tiny braids tumbled down her back. Unable to resist he reached out, but he could make sure she was real, she bounded over the soft sand of the riverbank, waded into its chilly depths, and then dove under.

“SSHHIITTEE!” the woman cried as she broke the water’s surface. A smile touched Eirik’s lips at her reaction to the water’s cold embrace. But his amusement quickly turned into something else she slung the long braids out of her face and her brown breasts jiggled.

He was so enthralled with her antics, he didn’t hear Bjarni sidle up beside him. “Did I mention that she’s
not
included in the trade.” Taking his silence as acquiescence, Bjarni stepped forward. Eirik held up his sword to block his path.

“We have defended each other’s life on many occasions, my friend, but you will have to fight me to claim her for yourself.”

Bjarni’s eyes widened. “You are talking
holmgang
! You would fight me over a simple thrall?”

Eirik looked at the woman in question as she waded offshore. Dipped in black and kissed by the sun, she seemed to absorb the sunlight and reflect it at the same time. Wondering if her skin would be hot to the touch, his balls grew tight.

“It will not be to the death,” Eirik handed his friend his sword, “but you will be black and blue on the morrow. Do you accept?”

Bjarni’s tall frame shook with anger, but he voiced no further objections. Taking his silence for consent, Eirik walked down to the water’s edge to claim his prize. Upon noticing his approach, the woman froze.

After several drawn-out moments of her dark gaze raking over him, openly scrutinizing him, she swam back to shore. With each stroke of her slender limbs, his cock thickened with an urgent lust. And when she finally emerged from the water holding her head high like a queen, he could practically smell his desire for her. It hung thick and heavy between them like a roiling nimbus cloud over a storm-tossed sea, clamoring for release.

If it weren’t for the crowd gathered ’round, he would have thrown her to the ground, spread her legs wide, and sunk balls deep. But he didn’t. Instead, he swung her up in his arms and deposited her over his shoulder. Uncaring of the knowing looks of those who watched, and undeterred by the woman’s tiny hands beating against his back, he scaled the embankment and headed toward his keep. His newest possession needed a closer inspection.

Reese tried to remain calm, see the positive in her present predicament. And yet, all she could see was red. Without barely an introduction or ‘How the hell are you,’ Eirik had thrown her over his shoulder, like spoils from war, and proceeded to march her through the village as naked as the day she was born. Thankfully, two well-placed hands protected her from a public pap smear.

Reese tried to block out the stares of the curious onlookers, who’d poured out of their huts to watch her march of shame, but they would be forever etched in her brain. A top five in the worst things that ever happened to her—smack dab between walking to her College Success class with her skirt tucked in her panties and a blind date dipping out on her without paying for the check. 

On the opposite end of the spectrum, Eirik seemed to be in good spirits. As if it were perfectly normal to walk around with a naked woman flung over his shoulder. He returned calls of salutation, and even stopped to chat with a man regarding the birth of a litter of puppies.

On the upside, a childish prank had inadvertently killed two birds with one stone. She no longer had any doubts Eirik would find her attractive. His predatory gaze was a potent force. Even though she was already naked, he’d made her feel stripped and utterly exposed.

Remembering how his gaze had bored into hers, awareness prickled along Reese’s skin. His was remarkably warm and pliable beneath her hands like flesh poured over steel. And no man had a right to smell so sinfully good. Like soap and evergreen and utterly mouthwatering.

Reese’s heart beat raced as a rapid succession of sexual positions he could bend, twist, and curl her into flashed through her mind. No matter how much she tried she couldn’t imagine him not being a good fuck or being aggressive about it. Like the true Viking he was he would take what he wanted in a way that would make most woman wild to give it to him.

And she would fall in the majority, Reese mused. Unable to remember the last time she had sex, she’d never been so aroused in her life. With each step he took, her clit quivered with anticipation. And she was sure the moisture coating the insides of the thighs wasn’t water from the inlet.

For the first time during this never-ending nightmare, Reese actually welcomed this showdown between her and Eirik Sigurdsson. So much so that by the time he reached his bedchamber, kicked the door open and then closed it behind him she was practically lightheaded from desire. And she didn’t mind how he marched over to the bed and unceremoniously threw her onto the bed furs, and climbed in on top of her.

Temporarily dazed, Reese laid there while he made himself more comfortable. He wedged his tree-trunk like thighs between hers and rested his elbows on either side of her head. Blinking out of her semi-daze, she caught him inspecting her braids. While he studied them, she studied him.

Eirik was saved from being called beautiful by a jagged scar running down the side of his right cheek and a slight bump where his nose had obviously been broken several times. His lips were pressed together, but they were surprisingly full for a guy and decidedly kissable.

As if sensing her perusal, his eyes swung up to lock with hers. An intense shade of blue, almost bordering on turquoise, his gaze was shrewd and assessing, in the face of a blank expression. If he’d desired her before, she didn’t see any indication of it now as he gazed down at her. Even when his hands circled her waist and slowly moved upward to rest under her breasts, she couldn’t read him.

She on the other hand was a jumble of nerves and sensations. Hyperaware, she practically squirmed beneath him. The pad of his thumbs made small circles along her rib cage, and her breath launched from her lungs in embarrassing gulps as if she were drowning. He caressed her breasts, his fingertips surreptitiously brushing against her nipples, and her eyes roll heavenward. How could he remain so detached, a virtual blank canvas, when her body refused to listen to her anymore?

So of course, Reese was knocked off her axis when he kissed her. He moved so quickly, snagging her bottom lip before covering her mouth with his, she didn’t see him coming.

Again, her body reacted without permission. She opened for him and his tongue marched right in.

R
eese didn’t consider herself a novice. She’d suffered her first kiss at the ripe old age of five, and lost her virginity at seventeen. But nothing prepared her for this! His kisses were akin to battle, with her on the losing side.

His hands roamed over her body, not staying in one place, leaving her flesh quivering in his wake. They traveled over her shoulders, down her arms, her hips then downward to the curve of her ass. He cupped each cheek and pulled her into him fitting, them together. He was thick and hard against her vulnerable center and she melted like one of those swooning cartoon characters that ended up on the floor in a puddle.

Needing to come up for air, Reese tore her mouth from his. “This...you...you’re...” she gasped loudly as he ground into her, teasing her already throbbing clit, “please don’t stop.”

wrapping her arms around his muscular shoulders. But he untangled their limbs and sat up.  A quizzical look shadowed his angular features.
Lord have mercy!
  Even in his confusion, he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Like a bee drawn to honey, she reached and traced her fingers along his jaw. 

“How do you know our language?” he demanded. She cried out when he grabbed her hand with a vise-like grip and yanked it over her head. “TELL...ME!” he enunciated, tightening his grip on her wrist, and spoiling the mood.

Reese glared up at him. Why was it so unbelievable she would know their language? Were Vikings so arrogant that they believed they were the only explorers in the world? Or that they were the only ones capable of speaking more than one language? No longer in a playful mood, Reese decided to answer his question with one of her own. “How many languages do you know?”

“Three,” he said. “Dansk Tunga, Anglisc, and Gaelic.”

In spite of the pain shooting down her arm, Reese was impressed by his linguistic skills. She’d taken Spanish and French all four years in high school and she could barely ask for directions to the bathroom in either language.

of the few viable reasons for why she would be in Norway during the Middle Ages. Still, that didn’t mean she had to meekly step in line, so she decided to tell him the same lie she’d told Shit Breath.

“My parents were slaves, but I grew up free in Hedeby. After our employer died, we lost his protection. Our papers disappeared and we were sold by his nephew.”

his hold on her wrist. Warily, she watched him shift to lie down next to her, resting his weight on an elbow. 

“Who was your protector?”