What followed would have been comical if Ragnar’s body wasn’t betraying him at every turn. He gripped the bed frame and gave it a shake. The wood creaked obligingly against the stone floor. “Now ye go.”
“Ochaaa…” Isolda made a sound somewhere between a whimper and a wheeze.
Ragnar’s hands stilled on the wood. “Lass, ye sound like ye’re chokin’ on yer supper.”
“Well, what is it supposed tae sound like then?” She crossed her arms. “Ye’re the one with all the experience.”
“I dinnae have experience withfakemoanin’. That’s a first fer me too.”
“Och, sonowye admit ye dinnae ken what ye’re daein’!”
Ragnar bit back a smile. “I ken what true pleasure sounds like, lass. What ye just did wasnae it.”
She glared at him, cheeks flaming. “Then ye’re goin’ tae have tae teach me better.”
Odin preserve me!
“All right.” He cleared his throat and shook the bed again, letting it creak rhythmically. “Try tae imagine somethin’ that feels good—real good. Like a hot bath after bein’ frozen, or the first bite of somethin’ delicious when ye’re starvin’.Thatkind of good.”
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then made another attempt. This one came out breathy and uncertain—but better. “Aaaaahh…”
“That’s…” he had to swallow. “That’s closer.”
Her eyes snapped open. “What’s wrong with it now?”
“Naethin’. Just… ye need tae sound like ye mean it. Like I’m makin’ ye…” he trailed off, watching color splotch across her neck. “Och, never mind. Just keep goin’.”
“Ooooch…” she tried again, this time adding a small gasp. The sound shot straight thought him, heat pooling low in his abdomen.
For a moment, he wondered what sound she would make if he were to really touch her.Focus.
“Now,” he managed, his voice husky. “Ye need tae say me name.”
“What?”
“They’ll expect tae hear it. Say me name like…” he paused, searching for words that wouldn’t send her fleeing, words that wouldn’t snap his last shred of control. “Like I just did somethin’ that surprised ye. In a good way.”
“Ragnar…?” It came out high and questioning.
“Stronger. Like ye meant it.”
“Ragnar.” Better. Almost convincing.
“Good. Now we put it all together.” He gripped the bedframe and gave it a vigorous shake, making the wood creak and groan. “Yer turn.”
Isolda took another deep breath and let out a breathless groan that made his fingers tighten on the bed frame hard enough that he thought it might snap in half.
Gods… this is torture worse than Thor’s blood-eagling.
“Keep goin’.” He bit out.
They fell into a rhythm—him shaking the bed, adding low grunts that he prayed sounded convincing. She gasped and moaned with increased conviction, his name falling from her lips in ways that made his body ache with want.
Then he made the mistake of looking at her.
She’d thrown herself into the performance now, her lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling with manufactured breathlessness. The flush had spread from her cheeks down to the column of her throat and her eyes were locked on his with an intensity that made his pulse hammer in his ears.
“Ooooch!”
