Page 79 of The Caged Viking

“Oh?”

“I want you to sit on the edge of the bed.”

He frowned with confusion, but did as she asked. His bare feet were firmly planted on the floor, knees spread in a manly fashion.

She scooted over and off the mattress, standing in front of him. For a moment, she let his eyes travel over her, while his enthusiasm got more enthusiastic.

Then she knelt.

* * *

If there’s one thing a Viking does well, it’s ride the waves…

Hauk was shocked.

And he was pleased.

Nay, “pleased” was too small a word to describe how he felt. In fact, he was chest-thumping, mouth-roaring, head-lifting jubilant. All those emotions being held inside, that this woman…his wife…would do that for him, made his heart feel too big, kind of achy. It would be foolish to attribute such an act to love, or some such fanciful notion. Still…

It’s not that he’d never had his cock in a woman’s mouth before. He had. Well, truth to tell, it had only been a few times in his thirty-five years, and one of those had been when he was a youthling and it had involved a great deal of begging and a small bribe…a slightly soiled blue riband…to a dairy maid who reeked of cow, as he recalled.

With Kirstin it had been an entirely different experience. Afterward, he dropped back onto the mattress with a whooshing exhale and watched, stunned, as she pulled a gunna over her head and said, cheerily, “Hold that thought, honey. I’ll be right back.”

She could talk after that? Whilst he could scarce put two words together? Was this not such a momentous event to her, as it had been to him? Apparently not. “Where are you going?”

“Gotta go pee.” With those words and a saucy wave, she left, giving her hips an extra swing. Or so it seemed to him. She could have relieved herself in the bucket behind the screen in the corner, but then women were squeamish about such things, preferring the garderobe or the outside privy.

Upon her return a short time later, she washed her hands with water that she poured from a pitcher into the bowl on the wall shelf. Drying her hands on her gunna, she then turned to look at him.

He was leaning back on an extra bed fur he’d placed at the headboard, his arms folded behind his head. His body was covered with another fur up to his waist. “Thank you,” he said.

She arched her brows but didn’t ask what he meant. Instead, she smiled and said, “My pleasure. You can reciprocate later.”

Reciprocate? Does she mean…? How do I do that? Mayhap she refers to the Viking S-Spot, which involves the tongue, but, nay that is different. Oh, well, I’ll figure it out. Or Kirstin, bless her blathering heart, will tell me what to do. He lifted the side of the bed fur and invited her in. To her credit, or his, she removed the gunna before ducking under the fur with a shiver. Unfortunately, she didn’t stand long enough for him to enjoy the view, but then, the air was cold. Even that short exposure chilled her skin. But not for long. He pulled her tight against his side, again, and she, brazen wench that she was…praise the gods!...lifted her knee up and over his thighs, thus placing her even tighten against him. They created a wonderful heat together.

She yawned and cuddled her face into his neck. To his further amazement, and disappointment, she fell asleep almost immediately.

He remained awake for a long time, though. Thinking, thinking, thinking. Even as he worried, a sense of serenity fell over him, like a blanket, or the bed fur he had drawn up over both of them, to the neck. Partly, it was gratification, the physical kind gained after good sex. But more than that, he felt contentment filling him. Well, not totally. Yea, he was content being back at Haukshire, to his ever-increasing surprise, and he was hopeful that with his hunting trip on the morrow and Egil’s trip to Hedeby for supplies, and the removal of Zoya from his premises, he and his people would make it through the autumn and winter. After that, springtime and the inevitable return of many of his cotters and warriors, would bring prosperity, not just survival. There was a purpose to his life that had not been there before.

The only thing blocking his complete contentment was lying beside him, snoring softly against his chest hairs. Kirstin. His wife. Even saying, or thinking, the word “wife” caused a lump to form in his throat and his eyes to water. She was coming to mean way too much to him. And he knew without a doubt that she still planned to leave at the first opportunity.

I need to convince her to stay.

And how will thou do that? that infernal voice in his head asked. Was it Odin or the Christian One-God or just himself questioning himself?

I’ve already tried forcing her. She is here because I drugged her, not by her own choice.

And how has that worked out, Viking, if she is still planning to leave?

Definitely the One-God, he decided. Um, do you have inside information on her plans?

None that I would disclose to you.

Oh, well! Time, that is my friend just now. I have time to seduce…uh, sway her emotions toward me.

Seems to me, thou art the one being seduced…uh, swayed.

Do Christians know their God is so sarcastic?