Page 39 of The Caged Viking

“I’ll wake the whole damn camp if you don’t get off of me,” she warned, putting both hands on his chest in an attempt to shove him off. To no avail, of course. “I could even—”

He cut off what was bound to be a tirade by putting his lips over her open mouth, then quickly adjusting his placement, molding her mouth in changing patterns till they met perfectly. Then he kissed her with an expertise honed by years of experience, but also complemented by the sweetness of her taste and pliancy…and surrender, which surprised him this early in the game. In fact, she took his head in both her hands and initiated a duel of tongues that was nothing short of amazing.

His heart hammered against his rib cage, and blood pounded through his veins. If he were standing, he would no doubt be light-headed.

He drew away reluctantly to look at her, his head tilted to the side. “You agree to the coupling?” Meanwhile, he outlined the edges of her mouth with a fingertip, spreading the moisture. His and hers both.

“Don’t act so surprised, Mister I-Am-Viking, therefore I-Am-Irresistible.”

She had insulted him, but it was a half-hearted insult. Not worth a reaction. He noticed that she licked her lips, not once, but twice. A good sign, for both of them, he realized, because her eagerness appealed to him mightily. “You do not answer my question,” he rasped out. “Why are you suddenly so biddable?”

“Seriously, Hauk! I don’t know about biddable, but you’ve been plaguing my dreams for months. At this point, suffice it to say, I deserve to experience the real thing…to see if you’re as good as your dream self.”

His eyes widened, and a slow smile emerged. “I was that good?”

She swatted his shoulder. “Oh, please! Stop wasting time. Do your thing.”

“I have a thing?”

“Fer the gods’ sake, do something!” Egil called out. “Ye’re keepin’ me and Bjorn awake with all yer chatter.”

“I don’t mind. I am learning…things,” Bjorn said.

“See! I told you to shhh, did I not?” Hauk whispered into her ear.

“Shhh yourself,” she whispered against his ear, then followed by blowing into his ear, once, twice, before inserting the wet tip of her tongue inside the whorls and jiggling it.

He about hurtled to a premature peaking like an untried youthling at the intense pleasure that shot from his ear to his cock. For a certainty, his eyes must be rolling back in his head. He muttered that famous Anglo-Saxon swear word, then repeated it in five other languages.

She smiled up at him, a little wicked smile of female satisfaction. She was not as shy as he’d thought, obviously.

“Witch!” he said softly and kneed her legs apart, arranging his heavier self carefully over her, very much aware that he was nude and his “enthusiasm” showed like a flag waving on the wind, whilst she was at least partially covered, and her “enthusiasm” not so apparent. Enthusiasm was the Viking word for arousal. “How do you remove this thing?” he muttered, tugging the edge of her upper garment between her breasts. He was surprised when the fabric sprang back.

She raised her body slightly and did some maneuver with her hands behind her back causing the garment to go loose. She then lifted it off her body and tossed it over her head, exposing two of the prettiest breasts he’d ever seen. Well, mayhap his perception was colored by his long time since seeing such splendors. Still, they were very nice. Not too big. Not too small. With promising, already engorged nipples, which caused him to give himself a silent clap on the back. Her “enthusiasm” was showing, too!

He decided to start there. First, cupping her breasts from underneath and squeezing them. Then tracing the areola with a forefinger.

She was holding her breath.

But not for long.

He strummed the nipples with his fingertips like a stringed instrument.

With a little yelp, she shot upward, trying to sit. But he wouldn’t allow that. Pressing her downward, he murmured, “Shh. Stay. Let me.”

Panting deliberately, in and out, she closed her eyes. He took that as her acceptance, for now, of his leadership in this sex play. He also, being a Viking, made note, in that part of his brain which men set aside for such details, that breasts were particular erotic spots on Kirstin’s body. That was not true for all women. He knew a few who balked at being touched there.

Which prompted him to continue playing with her breasts, finally leaning down to take one whole breast in his widened mouth, then drawing it out with a suctioning pull till he had the nipple between his lips. Then he fluttered the tip with his tongue until Kirstin was arching up off the furs and keening her arousal.

He put a hand over her mouth and whispered against her ear, repeating his earlier command, “Shhh. You will wake Egil and Bjorn.”

Both of them were snoring, but they wouldn’t be for long at this rate.

Then he moved to the other breast and did the same thing, but he held one hand against her belly and moved it lower, edging under the stretchy fabric of her garment, thus distracting her. It was a well-known ploy, in warfare or bedfare, attack at several sources at once to divide the enemy’s attention. Not that Kirstin was his enemy. But the principle was the same.

He could tell he was successful when one hand fluttered over her breasts, the other over her mons, unsure which of his hands were causing more distress. She removed his hand from her breast and he just slid it under her hips to caress her buttocks. When she tried to move his hand from her female area, he returned it to her breasts.

She succumbed to all the sensations then and laid back with a moan, raising her arms above her head. “Oh…oh…oh.”