Page 89 of My Fair Viking

He walked around the table and took her hand, leading her to the alcove bed. "One night?"

"One night only," she agreed.

"The deed will be done, then. We will make love," he said, lowering her to the mattress and following her down. "And damn the consequences."

"I want it all," she said.

Too aroused to wait, Adam was adjusting himself atop her, about to spread her thighs and thrust inside. He paused but a second before replying, "Of course you shall have it all," and took her hand in his to wrap it around the prodigious width of his full-blown arousal.

"Not that," she said with a giggle against his neck.

Tyra had had no idea that she could giggle! And who knew that a giggle could have the effect of cold water on a man's hot staff?

He sat back on his haunches, straddling her legs. "What all are you referring to?"

"All the different ways of pleasuring that you told me about. The sight-pleasuring…"

"I think you and I have had more than enough of sight-pleasuring for one night. If I look at you any more, my eyes might pop out."

She smiled. "I like when you look at me. Your scrutiny is like a caress. See? Even now, when you gaze upon my breasts, the fine hairs stand out all over my body."

"For the love of God, Tyra! Are you trying to torture me?"

"Am I torturing you?"

"Yea. Sweet torture."

"Aaah," she said, pleased with herself. Then she continued her explanation, "I want the other types of pleasuring, too. Kiss-pleasuring. Tongue-pleasuring. Finger-pleasuring. Talk-pleasuring. All of it. I have much to cram into one night."

He pondered what she'd said; then a wicked grin split his face. "Whatever you want, wench."

Lifting himself off her, he stood and went over to the hearth where he stoked the fire higher—to give him more light, she presumed. Then he set a half dozen already-lit candles about the bed, also for light, she presumed. Finally he grabbed a large harem-style pillow from Rashid's pallet and brought it to her. Arranging her on the bed so that she half reclined against the pillow, he then dragged a chair to the side of the bed, where he sat down with his feet crossed at the ankles and propped on the edge of the bed frame.

Thus casually sitting, he began telling her a story. "There was a desert sultan renowned for his sexual prowess, and his ability to satisfy all the houris in his harem."

"Is this a true story?"

"Absolutely true," he said, but there was a decided twinkle in his eyes.

"Abn Fadin—that was his name—told me once that a man's greatest pleasure came from seeing his woman's pleasure. And the way that a woman gained the most pleasure was when she knew her own body."

Abn Adam is more like it, she thought. "I know my own body. What kind of soldier would I be if I did not know my body's strengths and weaknesses?"

"Not that kind of knowing, sweetling."

Oooh, I like it when he calls me by that endearment.

"Push your hair behind your ears. Now close your eyes and examine each of your ears by tracing the whorls with a forefinger. Lightly, lightly. Push the finger in, too. Do you feel how sensitive they are? Now imagine how the same thing would feel if done by a man's teeth and tongue. It will be wet there, and he must blow you dry."

The oddest thing happened then. She was touching her ears, but she felt the sensation down lower in her body. Much lower. "Does everyone know about this phenomenon?"

"Only me and Abn Fadin." She could tell he was lying by the mirth in his voice. "Now keep your eyes closed. Examine your lips now. Trace them with your finger. Lick them. Stick out your tongue as far as it will go, then slide it back in, out again, in again. Set a rhythm. Holy hell!"

"Why did you curse? Am I doing it wrong?"

"Nay, my warrior witch. You are doing it just right. That is the problem… not a problem, actually… just my problem."

She opened her eyes to see exactly what his problem was and noticed it immediately… standing at attention in his lap, once again. Her giggle had turned him limp earlier. He was not limp now.