Page 26

"You make a pretty apology, my slave. I believe spanking you when you require it will prove rewarding, and fruitful."

"Yes, Gunnar." She could think of no better response, though she hoped he would not find cause to repeat this exercise too frequently. Except... her private places were tingling, her inner thighs felt unusually moist. What was happening to her?

"Now, I believe I promised you a reward. It is time to further expand your knowledge of what transpires between men and women."

"Yes, Gunnar," she repeated. "Yes, please." She no longer claimed to possess such knowledge. Indeed, the depth of her prior ignorance became more apparent with every moment she passed in Gunnar's company. And her curiosity soared.

"Now you may remove your sark, and lie across my bed. On your back, your legs spread wide for me."

She obeyed, though not without a lingering wariness despite his promise not to hurt her.

He had seemed unusually concerned at the prospect, in fact.

The sark landed in a crumpled heap at his feet and she stepped around him to lie on the bed.

Her legs, however, remained firmly closed.

Twenty-five summers of deeply ingrained modesty were not shed overnight, however tempting and seductive the man.

She half expected that he would order her to spread for him, his tone assuming that iron core of authority which would tolerate no disobedience.

He did not, though the wry smile he allowed himself suggested he had noted her reluctance.

He leaned over her, his hands on either side of her shoulders, and she shivered in the knowledge that he remained fully clothed whilst she lay naked beneath him.

He curled his sensual mouth in a slight smile.

His eyes were the colour of pitch, his hair blacker still as it fell forward to frame his strong features.

He had never looked more handsome to her, nor more intimidating.

She started to part her legs, then lost all sense of what she should be doing when he lowered his head further to brush his lips across hers.

It had been so long since a man had kissed her.

Niall had, on occasion; Alred, never. And no grateful peck to express appreciation after a night of intimacy came close to the sweetly sensual caress of this dark Viking's lips on hers.

His tongue teased the seam of her mouth and she parted her lips, then gasped when he plunged inside.

Never, never had she experienced such as this before.

She opened her mouth wider, intrigued as he stroked his tongue over hers, teasing her, playing with her, inviting her to join his sensual dance.

She reached for him, cradled his jaw between her hands and lifted her shoulders from the mattress as she returned his kiss.

He leaned in further, his elbows now on the bed as he deepened the kiss.

Mairead was floating, grasping at him as though he were the one solid entity anchoring her to the earth.

She moaned when he at last broke the kiss, but arched her back as he licked and nipped his way down her throat and across her shoulder.

He did not stop there. Lower he went, to nudge her swollen nipple with his nose, then he opened his mouth and drew the turgid bud between his lips.

It felt good, that sweet, sensuous tug as he pressed his tongue on the underside of the pebbled nub, the sensation at once familiar but quite unlike the greedy suckling of her baby.

This was lazy, leisurely, playful, and transient as he ventured further down her body.

Gunnar paused to nibble at her belly button. It tickled, and she laughed out loud, wriggling as he held her steady for more.

Mercifully he did not linger long and soon resumed his travels, this time pausing to kiss the nest of curls at the apex of her thighs. He would start back up soon, and perhaps kiss her mouth again as he had a few moments before. That would be nice.

"Oh. Oh!" Mairead yelped as he used his hands to part her thighs. This was unexpected, quite bizarre. What was he doing...?

"No. No, you must not!" His intent became obvious at last when he used his thumbs to part the lips of her sex.

He was there, between her now widespread thighs, looking at her, gazing at that place which no one should ever see, expect perhaps in childbirth.

But not like this, not as though he might like to?—

"Oooh!" The breath left her in a whoosh when he lowered his head and drew his tongue along the length of her slit. "What are you doing? You should not..."

She abandoned her protests when he ignored her and did it again, then again. The sensation was exquisite, quite beyond description. Her body hummed with pleasure, despite the wickedness of this Viking's truly spectacular actions.

"Please," she moaned, though she was no longer certain what she pleaded for.

He lifted his head to look at her, meeting her eyes with that stern but steady gaze, that expression of utter confidence and authority which would brook no argument.

"I have already explained that what is happening to you is not under your control.

You are mine, you know this. I could tie you to the bed, but I prefer not to.

You will lie still, and let me do with you as I will. Yes?"

She shook, her entire body trembling under the combined pressure of his will, and her longing for those feelings he had just evoked and which she wished to never end.

She had no choice, he was right. And knowing this, she was released, absolved of all responsibility.

She could submit, she must submit and he would give her everything she desired and more.

"Yes," she murmured. "Yes, I will be still."

He smiled. "I know you will," he agreed.

"You will play the harlot for me because I ask it, and because you want it too.

You want this..." He traced the outline of her entrance with the tip of his tongue.

"And you want this... " He parted her lips with his fingers and plunged his tongue right inside her – in, then out, then in once more and swirled it around.

Mairead writhed on the mattress, failing completely to remain still. Her inner muscles clenched, something hot and greedy snaked from deep in her core to bring her hips thrusting up. She lifted her body, pressing harder against his mouth, his lips, his wicked, sensual tongue.

"Gunnar, please, I need to... oh… oh."

Her cries fell on deaf ears, or rather on ears which chose to ignore her strangled, incoherent mumblings. Gunnar continued to drive his tongue inside her, at the same time as his thumb found that needy little nubbin again and he rubbed.

She was close, her climax would soon be upon her and there was nothing she could do.

What he was doing to her was wrong. It was decadent, dirty and quite delightful and she could not get enough of it.

Mairead's fingers were in his hair, twisting the soft, ebony locks around her digits as she sought to hang on to something, anything. ..

Her release drew a long, anguished moan from deep in her throat.

Her body went rigid as waves of pleasure pulsed through her, then boneless as the delight ebbed and her muscles relaxed.

He continued to lick and nuzzle and flick her nether lips with his tongue as her world tilted then reoriented itself.

Only when she lay quite still did he raise his head to look at her again.

"That was perfect. You respond beautifully, my slave."

She had no answer for him. What could she say? It was not as though she might claim responsibility for her body's enthusiastic reaction, she could not help it. He made her feel things she had never so much as imagined and want things she could never have.

Or could she?

"Gunnar, please make love to me."

"Did I not just do so?"

"Inside me. I want you inside me. Your cock."

"Ah, now that would be nice. Are you quite certain this is what you want, my slave?"

"Yes, yes, yes !"

"I may not be gentle..."

"Despite what you say, I believe you will be gentle because you always are. In any case, I am not made of eggshells." She drew a long breath and sought to soften her impatient tone. He did not take issue with her impertinence, so she continued. "Please, Gunnar, I need you to... I need more."

"Then you shall have it, my demanding little slave.

" He rolled from the mattress, and in scant moments had shed his clothing.

Mairead watched with undisguised interest, taking in the sculpted planes and hollows of his chest, the sprinkling of dark hair which arrowed down to the thicker thatch at his groin.

She admired his corded muscles, the way they rippled beneath his skin.

This dark Viking was a powerful man, strong, capable of terrifying violence as she had witnessed back in her homeland, but also capable of showing tenderness and caring.

He had been kind to her from the start, he had protected her when she needed him, and he had been gentle with her children.

This incongruous mix was proving to be a potent charm, evoking a lust and need within her that she had never experienced before and found herself uncertain as to how to handle it.

Was she permitted to demand, to request, to just reach out and take as he would?

Gunnar approached the bed and Mairead abandoned any remaining inhibitions.

As soon as he was beside her she wrapped her slender fingers around his cock and leaned forward to inhale the musky, masculine aroma of it.

The head was shiny and smooth, glistening with the clear beads of moisture which dribbled from the very tip.

Without thinking she smoothed the pad of her thumb across the crown and spread the wetness about, then leaned in to taste him.

Gunnar groaned and she withdrew at once, an apology springing to her lips.

"No, do not be afraid. That was glorious and you may be sure that I will appreciate more such attentions in the future. But now, I want only to fuck you. I need to be inside you."

"Yes, master," she breathed.

He eased her down and onto her back. This time she spread her thighs wide without being instructed and gazed up at him, trusting him absolutely.