Page 115 of The Outlaw Viking

He saw the unquenchable pain in Rain’s honey eyes flecked with rings of gold, but he soon turned it to molten desire. He felt the rigid tension of cold regret in her arms and legs, and he loosened them into clinging, writhing vines of mindless heat. When her lips opened to challenge his decisions once again, he silenced her with his consuming mouth.

When he imbedded himself in her sweet flesh, she cried out her ecstasy. He thrust in and out, slowly, slowly, until her body began to ripple with tiny convulsions of mind-shattering pleasure. “Oh…oh…oh…God…please!”

Selik held himself rigid inside her until her arousal peaked and shattered, then began the rhythm again. He controlled her, set the pace. Slow, fast, slow, fast.

“Tell me,” he demanded in a low, raw voice.

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“I…a-a-ah…sweet Jesus…I love you!”

Still he held himself in almost painful control, filling her with his rock hardness, surely as far as her womb, refusing to let go of his own tightly coiled, mind-boiling need.

“Now, again,” he said with an exultant cry of masculine pride as she screamed his name, and he stroked her almost continually spasming woman-folds with long, long, agonizingly slow, intensely sensitized caresses of his manhood.

“Tell me again.”

“I love you, dammit. Please…oh, please…”

Selik laughed aloud, a low, masculine roar of pleasure, then arched his back and threw his head back, his veins feeling as if they were about to burst in his neck. Rain wrapped her legs around his waist, tossing her head from side to side, and he slammed into her. His sorely challenged self-control broke loose then, and he poured his man-seed into her with a roar of pleasure so intense that his soul was surely marked forever.

“I love you, dearling. Forever,” he cried out as she vibrated hotly around him in one last shattering expression of her continually peaking pleasure.

“I love you, too.” Then, in the aftershocks of her progressively smaller spasms, she choked out, “You’re killing me.”

He smiled against her neck, panting to regain his breath. “Yea, but what a way to die!”

They fell asleep in each other’s arms then, sated and intensely relaxed. When dawn light crept through the loft window, Selik sat up with distress.

“Wha-what?” Rain asked groggily, sitting up beside him.

“Ah, sweetling, I wanted to make love to you through the night, but I fell asleep.”

Rain laughed and wrapped her arms around his waist, her breasts rubbing enticingly against his chest hairs. “Oh, yeah! Big talk!”

He lowered her to the bed and growled against one hardened nipple, pressing his burgeoning manhood against her. “Big? You want big?” he said, laughing, and he gave it to her.

Hours sped by like minutes the rest of the day. Selik made all the boys come outside to the woods with him, where they pulled one dead tree after another to the barn clearing and cut them into logs. By early afternoon, they had stacked enough wood beside the barn to last for months.

Then he sat down with Rain and Ubbi at the table. While they ate bread and hard cheese, washed down with mead, he told Ubbi, “Go into Jorvik on the morrow. Gyda will tell you where I have coins stashed.”

“Rain, you are not to depend on the culdees and their tightfisted charity for your daily bread. Use my funds, and if you need more, go to Gyda.”

Rain nodded, unable to speak over the lump in her throat.

He handed her a piece of parchment, telling her, “I have deeded over the farmstead to you.”

Rain gasped. “No, I don’t want it,” she cried, shoving it back into his hands in a panic. Selik behaved like a man about to die, getting his affairs in order.

“Take it,” he said firmly, shoving it back in her hands. “The Saxon soldiers may return, and you will need proof of ownership. I have dated it back to last spring so they will not think I have been here.”

For hours, he kept adding details for Rain to remember—the name of a Viking man in Jorvik who might be willing to till the fields for them come spring, a reminder to get the money Ella owed her, a warning to be careful of the roaming Saxon soldiers, advice on how to handle the wily culdees at the minster. On and on he went, when all Rain wanted was to cling to his shoulders and beg him not to go.