Viking's Orders (5 page)

He did know how to pleasure her.

Her hand slipped between her thighs.

“Now what?” she demanded.

“Have you ever touched yourself?”

“Why?”

“Because it feels good, baby.” Loki’s balls, he couldn’t get any harder. Could he? That pretty sight of her standing there, obediently touching her pussy, got him going. She’d be hot and sweetly wet, and he wanted to replace her fingers with his.

Now
.

Her fingers bunched the fabric tighter, and she shook her head. “Not worth the bother.”

“Then you haven’t been doing it right.”

She started to slide her fingers free.

He bit out the order. “No.”

###

“Make me stop.” Pure glared at him and deliberately stroked her fingers deeper, harder. The sensation was certainly pleasant and definitely personal, but not overly exciting. Not yet. Not like when he’d touched her on the bike. Although the look on his face right now was promising. His eyes shot to her fingers and stayed there.

She moved her fingers like he had, and maybe he did have the way of it because that lightning bolt of pleasure was suddenly back. Yes, she could do this. This felt
good
.

“You want me to shut up and stop thinking, Vikar, then you do something about it. Tell me what you want from me.
Show me
.”

That ought to get him going. She knew the little smile curling her lips was asking for trouble. Sure enough, his eyes warmed, darkening with something powerful. Trouble all right.

He strode towards her. “You’re playing with fire, baby,” he warned, drawing her towards him. His fingers curled around her shoulders, positioning her for his kiss.
Much better
.

“Maybe I like fire,” she challenged. “I’m tired of hiding, Vikar. Tired of not knowing. Show me what I’ve been missing all these years.” And she had been missing something—someone—she realized, locked away in Odin’s hall laboring under the metaphorical equivalent of a chastity belt. Safe didn’t mean alive. Now, with time running out, she wanted to grab whatever life had to offer.

Right now, life was offering her Vikar.

She closed the small distance left between them.

“You don’t like something,” he warned, “you tell me.”

“Fair enough,” she breathed against his skin, tilting her head back to meet his dark gaze. “But, Vikar—I’m planning on enjoying the hell out of this.”

“Good.” His head came down, his mouth hovering above hers but not giving her what she wanted yet. Just the rough sough of his breath as he sucked in air and pulled her against the length of him. Her berserker was hard. He hid nothing, neither the erection pressed between them nor his desire.

That knowledge didn’t make this feel any less pleasurable and it for damned certain didn’t douse the bright pulse of pleasure building deep inside her. So she let herself moan—just a little—when his rough fingers stroked the sensitive hollows of her shoulder blades, smoothing down over the skin of her back to cup her ass. He pulled her up on her toes and fit her against him, leaving no space between them.

No room to hide.

No room to run.

“I’m going to kiss you now, Pure.” His voice was all male warning. He wasn’t stopping, not unless she asked him to.

Took you long enough.
“Good.”

His mouth lowered, but his eyes didn’t move from her face. No, his damned eyes remained open, watching her, watching for the reaction she couldn’t hide from him. Her lashes were drifting close, to better capture the moment and filter it down to its bare, raw essence. She was wet and needy, and the entire world had narrowed to Vikar and the small space they shared.

His lips brushed against hers, not gentle, not rough. Letting her know he was there. She stilled, drinking him in. Once. Twice. His tongue traced the seam of her closed lips, coaxing hers to part. She did, and he devoured her mouth, consuming her, his lips and tongue and teeth creating a furious blaze in her. With a wordless cry, she arched into him. No boundaries between them, her body flowing into his. Aching. Demanding.

She opened up and let him.

He cradled her head, positioning her for his touch. The sensation of his hands on her skin teased her, a delicious roughness reminding her of the sheer, brute power the man holding her commanded. His lashes feathered down as he lowered his head, concealing his eyes. She didn’t want to close her eyes, didn’t want to miss the sight of her barbarian kissing her like she was a priceless treasure. Heat shot through her. She moaned and tilted back her head.

“Like this,” he growled.

His fingers covered hers where she cupped her pussy. He pressed and he stroked and that heat was hotter than Thor’s lightning bolt. He smiled slowly.

“Open up
more
,” he demanded, his tongue driving into her mouth, taking her.

###

Vikar picked Pure up, sliding his arms beneath her shoulders and legs. A primal possessiveness surged in him. This woman was
his
. He was Viking. That made him a pirate and a plunderer. He’d take her,
make
her his. Var’s face was as intent, as harsh, as his. Pure was their treasure. Their secret hoard. Under normal circumstances, he didn’t get close to a woman. He might have seen her from a distance or seduced her covertly, but he’d never have been allowed to keep her. Not like this.

Wrapped in his arms.

She was a deliciously erotic challenge.  She held herself still, uncertain, as if touching was not something she’d done much of. He didn’t care. Whatever experience she had or didn’t have, she’d melted for him once and he’d see to it she did so again.

She was his.

He set her down on the bed of furs he’d made for her earlier when he’d left her sitting by the campfire. Usually, he simply dropped his sleeping bag wherever was convenient. Close to the fire, close to his weapons and his men. Tonight, he’d wanted to give her the illusion of privacy. In camp, there was none. Men knew each other’s business. Who took a piss, who passed gas and snored or groaned in his sleep. Even jerking off was necessarily quick, because the men lying nearby knew all too well what the change in breathing, the sound of skin brushing skin meant. There were no secrets.

He’d certainly never responded so strongly to the sight of a woman spread out waiting for his touch. The dark bag framed her pale hair and white skin. Icy on the outside but so very hot on the inside. He wanted to lower himself onto her smaller body and press her down. He wanted to strip her bare, push apart her thighs and expose all her hidden parts. Open her up and taste the sweet, wet nectar of her come.

Unfortunately, she was still fully dressed, but that was an oversight he could easily fix. Var crouched beside him, taking his cues from Vikar, playing the second in this dark night. Two men, two barbarians, focused on one sweet, willing woman. The way Vikar saw it, Pure wouldn’t go wanting.

Right now, though, he wanted her naked.

“Undress.” Var made the roughly worded suggestion to Pure, like he couldn’t, wouldn’t wait any longer. Like he too was desperate for more.

To Vikar’s delight, Pure nodded. Her fingers drew the laces through the tiny holes, the dark leather parting over her breasts.
She was beautiful
.

“You, too,” she demanded, and he was happy to oblige. Shucking his clothing, he tossed tunic and pants to the ground. His weapons he set more carefully to one side. Their camp should be safe enough for the night with his men nearby, but he’d take no chances with this woman. If he needed to, he could weapon up quickly. He wouldn’t take her with pants around his ankles and only his cock free. He wanted to be skin to skin with her. Bare.

Her pretty pink flush said she liked this just fine. The corslet parted completely when he ran a finger down the laces. Her breasts were a delicious handful, pink-tipped and soft, like the sweetest autumn berries ripening fully in the sun. Vikar moved closer, sinking onto the sleeping bag with her and pushing the corslet all the way off her.

She stilled like an animal at bay.

“Promise me.” Her tongue darted out, swiping at her lower lip. “Promise me again you will be careful.”

“I want to fuck you,” Vikar said.

Var elbowed him as her eyes widened. He’d gotten it wrong, but he’d always been more animal than man.

“Yes,” she said, “but be careful. Don’t—” She waved a hand. “Don’t change on me. Don’t go
berserk
.”

“Yes. I promise.” He placed his hand on her shoulder and pushed her down.

She was nervous.

So for a moment he just stroked her, enjoying the contrast of his scarred, sun-darkened finger against the softness of her breast. Her skin was as white and unmarked as her own name, while he was an animal and a brute.  They’d already established that. Bending his head, he tasted her, easing his tongue along that secret curve where the corslet had marked her. A tide of lust surged hard and fast in him with just that small taste. The beast clawed for release, and he pushed it back down.
No
. He wasn’t an animal. And she’d asked him to be careful.

He drew his head back.

“Taste her,” he invited his brother. Var moved closer, and although Pure sucked in a breath, she stayed put. His good girl. She was keeping her promises.

“Be—” Her tongue darted out to swipe at her lower lip. So soft. So vulnerable. “Be gentle.”

“Too many commands.” He wanted no more orders. This was his night. His turn. “Right now, I want to see you. All of you. I want to taste you. Touch you.”

Vikar drew down her pants and the lacy panties, and she let him. Var’s hands joined his, and the other man’s breath caught roughly at the pretty sight. His Pure might be nervous, but she was sensual. Excited. He’d make this damned good for her. He’d contain his berserker side.

The bear wouldn’t come out to play.

###

“Open up for us, baby,” Vikar rasped, leaning in and stroking a hard hand along her thigh. “Let us see that wet pussy of yours. Let me see what you need. You’re going to want this. Every sweet touch. Every kiss. That’s a promise.”

His hand pushed gently. She’d dreamed secretly of this kind of passion, this kind of lover, for years. Valhalla was a cold, empty place for a Valkyrie maiden. Tonight changed all that. Tonight Vikar set her free.

Sensation beat through her, unfamiliar nerve endings firing to life with each soft, deliberate stroke of his fingertips. His was the hand of a warrior, calloused from centuries of swordplay and sailing. He’d learned his way around a weapon, a longship—and now her body. That was good, though. She didn’t want to wait any longer. She spread her thighs wider and drank in his hoarse curse.

“That’s a perfect sight.” He moved over her, staring at that part of her that was drenched for him. She’d known he was a fighter and a mercenary. She’d recognized, on a primitive feminine level, that he’d dominate in bed because he was alpha and a man who led. He fought for what he wanted every day of his life, and tonight’s foreplay was simply one more battle. She hadn’t realized, however, what sweet pleasure losing could be.

“Shall we touch you right here? Just a little, to see what pleases you best?”

He didn’t move. Damn him, he waited for the words like they had all the time in the world.

“Vikar,” she gritted out.

She’d kill him.

After he touched her.

“You ask for it,” he growled. “That’s how this works. My rules, Pure. You tell me what you want and what you’ll do when I give it to you. And I’ll make sure you come tonight.”

“Now,” she demanded.

He shook his head. His fingertips moved closer, so close. “You tell me first.”

“Touch me.”

“See? Not so hard after all. And now for your reward.” His finger eased through her wet pussy, parting the swollen folds. “You’re going to taste so sweet, baby. Sugar sweet.”

He nodded over her shoulder to Var, and the other man moved closer, pulling her back against his hard chest.  Even though she’d had eyes only for Vikar back there in the pit, Var was no mean sight himself. His chest was a thickly muscled slab of delicious ridges and swirls of golden hair.

Vikar’s mouth descended, kissing a wicked path from the curve of her stomach to where she burned for him. Gods. He couldn’t, wouldn’t. Would he? She wanted to curse this unfamiliar need and open her thighs wider. Press her aching pussy against his talented mouth and demand
exactly
what she suspected she wanted.

She wanted him to lick her.

Take her first with his tongue and then his body.

Fiery sensations tore through her and maybe him as well, because she
felt
his raspy groan against her greedy, aching core as he pressed a small, first kiss against her burning clit.

She jerked, crying out. He was all marauder. Kissing her with a savage finesse. Every part of her quivered with shock and pleasure. Gods, her barbarian knew how to kiss. He mounted a ruthless assault on her clit with his lips and his tongue.

She submitted even as she fought to control what was happening to her. The burning need, the desperate sensation to pull him closer and lose herself in him overwhelmed her, and Var held her, a welcome anchor in the maelstrom of pleasure. The feel of him behind her—he had her back—was solid and reassuring. She didn’t fly apart while he held her. She wasn’t alone.

“Let’s see if we can make you feel even better.”

Oh, gods. She couldn’t. This was too much pleasure. She’d imagined a quick, hard, dirty fuck. A physical act that satisfied her curiosity and took care of the virginity that bound her to Odin’s service. Not this raw, physical connection between her and her Viking. He blew lightly, and she groaned. She needed him. Needed more of his touch.

He laid siege to her body. No quick Viking raid, all thunder and roar and violence. Instead, he slowly spread her thighs around his face, the rough scratch of the whiskers shading his jaw yet another erotic jolt. Each breath she took flooded her senses with more of him. More Vikar. He smelled of wild and sage and wood smoke, roughly male and exotically foreign. Her hands threaded through his hair, holding him closer. Pulling him wordlessly where she needed him to be.