Page 18 of Viking Warriors: Vol. 1-3
The two stood silent for some moments, before the tension broke, and Gunnolf’s mouth twitched in a half-smile.
Gunnolf’s gaze returned to Faline. “And this one?”
Eirik answered with all courtesy.
“Elswyth’s step-daughter by her husband, now deceased. Both I offer for Asta’s service, if our Lady wishes it. They come as free women but are willing to serve.”
It was as we had agreed. I would need some occupation besides the tumbling companion of mighty Eirik, and my duties would be light, he assured me.
“For that, my Lady thanks you,” said Gunnolf, replying for his wife. “No doubt, they will bend to the command of their betters, for all that you call them ‘free’.”
What next passed between them I never knew, for Gunnolf pulled Eirik close, and whispered in his ear. They laughed together and clasped each other about the back, thumping in brotherly embrace. However, as Gunnolf pressed his cheek to Eirik’s shoulder, his expression was without mirth. If it was joy he felt at the ship’s return and relief in knowing his brother to be safe, it was soberly tempered.
As Eirik led me away, I felt the jarl’s inscrutable gaze upon us.
2
“No more waiting.” He carried me to his bed, which would now be mine, in the service of our mutual pleasure. He cared not for the others, who would surely hear us beyond the meagre curtain of our boxed chamber, and nor did I. He lay me back and pushed up my skirts, freeing his erection from the rough wool of his trousers.
We’d been too long without consummation. Eirik would have taken me in the prow of the boat, but the roughness of the waves scarcely permitted it. How scared I’d been, sick with fear and the motion of the vessel. I’d believed I’d never see land again, but he’d pulled me to him, murmuring comforts, and bid me lay my head upon his lap. I’d been grateful for his strength, as I struggled with my own weakness.
Now, I watched as he reached beneath my buttocks, lifting me to his cock, nudging past the tightness of my initial trembling, for his size was enough to awe any woman. He pushed gradually within, easing me to accommodate his girth, voicing his pleasure in the warmth of my cunt and its constriction.
I drew up my legs, offering him deeper entry. Still, I held my breath as I prepared to take his full length. He slid to fill me with a groan of satisfaction, then began his steady rhythm, drawing back and forth, eyes bright with desire, bringing from me a returning moan.
His need would not allow him to hold back for long, his thrusts growing harder. Only his grip beneath me, pulling me upwards to meet the lunge of his cock, prevented him from pushing me away. With the force of his fucking, my voice rose. My fingers kneaded the muscle of his buttocks, urging him on; I’d known his lovemaking would be fierce, and I welcomed it.
At last, his voice broke in a Viking oath, and he shuddered, plunging with final fervour. I felt the flood of his seed and gave my own cry, part pain and joy, leaving me breathless.
With a low chuckle, he lowered his mouth to mine, kissing me gently. “A good beginning, my Elswyth.”
His hands moved upwards, first to squeeze my waist, then to push down the fabric covering my breasts. He took each in his mouth, humming low as he suckled, rubbing his beard where it would most antagonize me. I wriggled, and clenched, against his retreating engorgement.
It wouldn’t be long before he was again ready, his prowess being such as any man would envy. He pulled off my gown and the shift beneath, so that I lay naked before him. Stretched back on the bed, I opened my legs to him, awakened to desire and the certainty of fulfilment. There was nothing I would not give him.
His own clothing removed, he knelt above me, and I quivered at the sight of him. I knew all the scars of his body, and its markings, too: the intricate patterns of the inked sleeves upon his arms, dark green and blue-black, forming the branches of knotted trees; Jörmungandr, the snake curving down his spine, whose scales rippled as he moved, twisting its head over Eirik’s shoulder, as if in an attempt to watch me. I knew the circle of pointed arrows on his chest, and those across the top of his buttocks: a cloak of beliefs that gave him power.
His erection was already rising. I wanted to feel him, to be naked under the insistence of his hands and mouth, coated with the sweat of his body, and mine.
He looked down on me with his customary confidence, tracing the curve of my belly, stroking through my soft fur. I held his gaze, wishing him to see me as clearly as I saw him.
“With just my tongue, little bird, I can trap you, and keep you, or make you fly.” His voice growled low, speaking in my own language, his vowels drawn out as he formed the words.
He raised my hips again, and lowered his face, brushing my delicate skin with the bristles of his beard, kissing to the entrance between my legs. I felt the cream bubble from inside me, trickling out, in anticipation of receiving him.
He drew the flat of his tongue through my slit, before flicking against the sensitive nub, making me gasp before he pushed inside, to rub back and forth, moving expertly, to press where I desired, although never hard enough.
“Please,” I begged, “Eirik…”
“More?” he whispered, his breath hot against my thigh.
I bit my lip as he penetrated more deeply, sliding through me in long, slow strokes.
He lifted his head and grinned, emerging from my slipperiness, sitting back on his heels. The firm, hard-muscled ridges of his abdomen led to the thatch of his groin, and the thickened root: full again, dark-veined, with the head pushed forward, glistening with arousal.
I reached for him, eager to pull him down, and into me, but he took both my hands and moved them to the base of his meat. “Feel me,” he said. “Take it. Taste it.”
Gripping the shaft, I rolled the skin back and forth, before guiding him to my lips, moving the velvet of my mouth over his smoothness, beyond the furrow and some way down his column, enclosing him tightly. I loved the solidity of him in my mouth.
