Page 124 of Viking in Love

He seemed surprised by her question at first, and then he said, “They do.”

Caedmon’s manpart was long and thick, poised for entry. She knew because she was raised on her elbows watching him. Glancing up, he noticed her scrutiny and smiled…a smile that not only tugged at his lips, but danced in his eyes. Then he thrust inside her, and she had to close her eyes against all the sensations assaulting her. She melted around his stretching fullness. The fine hairs stood out all over her body. Her nipples ached.

His eyes were closed now as he seemed to be fighting for control, but she would have none of that. She reached around and cupped his buttocks, pressing for more. Do not think you have all the control, my lord of sin.

Opening his eyes, he laughed and began long, lazy strokes that nigh drove her into a demented state of endless moaning. It was too much, and not enough. Her hips were rocking wildly. There was a roaring in her ears. As he pounded into her, she realized that somehow her legs had locked around his hips. Straining, straining, straining toward the most incredible, shattering explosion of the senses, which left them both weak and depleted.

This is surely heaven and Valhalla all rolled into one.

As they lay side by side facing each other, his limp member still inside her, he lazily slipped his tongue in and out of her mouth, a reminder of what they had just done. She put her hands to his face, holding him back a bit. “I love you,” she said. That was all. She had no idea how he would react, but it had to be said.

He just stared at her, his fingers gently pushing wet strands of hair off her face. “I am glad.”

That was all, but it was enough…for now.

He did not know it yet, but she was not leaving on the morrow. He might be a hard nut to crack, but she was going to crack him eventually. After all, she had nine helpers for that endeavor.

Lest he worry about her getting too serious, she lifted one leg up over his thigh and said, “Wanna see how good I am at my exercises?”

Turns out she was very good, if male groans and pleas for mercy were any indication.

The way to a man’s heart is NOT through his stomach, ladies…

Caedmon stared down at a sleeping Breanne. Finally, he had worn her out. Hah! He was the one worn out. In the best possible way.

She had milked him with her new inner muscle exercises until he thought he had died and gone to Valhalla. Thank heavens for the female body and all its nuances. They had tried the Butterfly position after that, the one he had mentioned to her before. Who knew I could do THAT? Then she had put her mouth to him and caused his heart to stop before thundering into rhythm again. Un-be-lievable! She would be the death of him yet…a good death, he had to admit.

What was he going to do with her?

I have a few ideas.

One thing was certain, he was not going to let her go.

He lay down then, spooning himself into her back, and pulled a blanket over the top of them. It would soon be daylight and God only knew what would happen then.

For now, he was where he wanted to be.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The games children…uh, adults play…

“Where is she?” King Thorvald bellowed. He was outside in the bailey, ready to mount his horse and take off for Jorvik, where he had eight longships waiting to take them back to the Norselands. All of the troops below were ready to ride. His daughters, as well. Except for Breanne.

“I have looked everywhere,” Tyra said, putting a hand over her barely raised belly. She had told him earlier this morning that she was breeding another grandchild for him. She and her family would be traveling with them to Jorvik, then off to her own home at Hawkshire with her husband, Adam, Rashid, and little Adela. “Breanne is nowhere to be found.”

“When did you see her last?” Rafn asked.

“She went to bed when we did,” Vana told him, “but she was not there when we awakened this morn.”

King Thorvald’s blood went hot. “Where is Caedman?” he shouted to anyone who would answer.

“Uh, he has not been seen today, either,” Gerard, the steward, answered, from a distance.

Does he think I am about to lop his head off? Nay, it is that knave Caedmon for whom I am reserving that honor.

“Mayhap Caedmon went to Heatherby to join his friend Wulf, who went there last night,” Tyra offered.

“He has not left Larkspur,” the stable master said from the back of the crowd that was gathering. “His horse is still in its stall, and the sentries would have noted his departure.”