Page 14

S he had sworn that she would not weaken, had promised herself to be strong, resolute.

She had meant to remain loyal to Taranc and to her people, so cruelly mistreated.

Murdered, robbed, taken into slavery—how could she submit to the man who led the attack on her home and family? How would she live with herself after?

And yet, how would she bear it if she did not surrender?

Taranc had been her rock, her friend, her beloved companion since they were children, but never, not once in all of those years, did he stir a desire remotely resembling this fire that the Viking ignited at her very core.

Every muscle ached for him, every bone in her body was brittle, fragile, as though she might shatter into a thousand pieces from the inexorable tension he wound within her.

This Viking might be her enemy, though she was less and less sure of that as he warmed and soothed her, as he bound her throbbing ankle and ordered servants to run around and see to her comfort.

Yet Taranc and others from her village were probably even now in chains within that building constructed specially to house the thralls, and soon they would be forced into hard labour by these vile, barbaric Norsemen.

And knowing that, knowing all of that and loathing the circumstances in which she found herself, she had still begged the Viking to fuck her. And she would do so again, should he show the slightest inclination not to grant her request.

Fiona did not believe such extremes would be called for as her Viking shed the rest of his clothing before her admiring gaze.

In moments he was naked as she, his huge cock jutting before him as he approached to bring one knee onto the sleeping platform beside where she lay.

Fiona could not take her eyes off his massive erection, and had he not commanded her to link her hands behind her head and remain so she might have dared to reach out and touch him.

Instead, she licked her lips, which elicited a lewd grin from Ulfric.

“You wish to taste me, as I savoured you?”

What? No! The very notion…

But her mouth watered, her tongue swiped hungrily across her lower lip, her teeth ground together, and Fiona whispered words almost as shocking as those that had already spilled from her mouth. “Yes. May I?”

“Sit up.” He helped her to perch on the edge of the bed and stood before her. “Open.” He tapped her mouth with his fingers.

“May I put my hands down? I… I should like to touch, if that is permitted…”

“You may,” he acceded, “but open first.”

So she did. Fiona lowered her hands to rest them on his sculpted hips then parted her lips to accept the crown of his cock as Ulfric fed it to her.

She had no idea what to do once she had the slick roundness within her mouth, so she settled for running her tongue along the underside.

It was smooth, like marble, and almost as solid.

And there was a taste, a distinct tang. It was…

not unpleasant. She wrapped her tongue around the head and licked, at the same time curling her fingers into a fist around the base of his shaft.

Ulfric groaned, and, fearful, Fiona rolled her eyes up to meet his.

But her Viking was smiling. He narrowed his eyes, and he nodded.

Just once, but it was enough. Her confidence grew as Fiona bent her head and started to move back and forth, taking just a fraction more of him into her mouth with each stroke.

Her head was bobbing, her jaw straining to open wider, to take more. She wanted more. She wanted it all.

The head of Ulfric’s cock nudged the back of her throat and Fiona gagged. She shifted her position so that the angle was changed and she could direct him into the inner pocket of her cheek. He stroked her hair as though to reassure her that this was acceptable, that she was doing well.

After all, she was to be his bed-slave. She would require these skills she was only now acquiring.

Fiona wrapped her fingers, both hands, around the wide column at the base of his cock and rubbed up and down.

She managed to find a rhythm with the movements of her head, her lips and tongue, and for his part Ulfric appeared content.

He twisted hanks of her hair between his fingers and she was well aware that he could have forced more of his erection into her mouth, beyond the limits she was unwittingly setting for him.

But he did not. He held her head firm and steady, but did not force the pace or drive his cock deeper.

Suddenly and without warning he pulled free. Fiona gazed up at him, wide-eyed. He had seemed to like her ministrations, yet?—

“Now. I have to fuck you now.”

She could only nod, though she had but the vaguest notion how such a feat was to be accomplished. Fiona had heard talk, of course, but never the details…

In contrast to her own inept uncertainties, Ulfric knew exactly what he was about.

He pressed her shoulders back against the bed and with his hands behind her knees now he raised and parted her legs.

Her core still throbbed from her release of but a few minutes ago, and Fiona wondered if he might repeat that delightful interlude now.

That notion was dispelled when he moved forward to kneel between her thighs and the crown of his cock nudged her slick entrance.

She knew a moment’s panic. “Wait, I am not sure…”

He paused, raised his eyebrows to regard her.

“No?” His expression tightened, he looked… pained.

“No. Yes. I mean yes, but I am not certain that we shall be… a good fit.”

“We will be a perfect fit. You have my word on that, little Celt.”

“Oh. I see…”

She did not see, not yet, but she had to know.

Curiosity and arousal merged with anxiety.

Fiona was nervous, a little frightened in truth, but not so much so that she would fumble or let slip this experience.

She was to be a bed-slave to this beautiful Viking poised above her; that much was beyond her control.

Suddenly the first part of that description, at least, seemed considerably more attractive.

He pushed, and her body parted to accept him. The wide head of Ulfric’s cock breached her entrance and Fiona gasped. It was tight, she was stretching, pushed to her very limits and beyond. This was impossible, too much, too… too…

“Oh! Aagh!” She screamed as a sudden pain tore through her, then she went still. She could not move, dare not for fear something else might rip. He had hurt her, done her some injury despite his promises, his pledge that she would not be harmed.

Fiona lay rigid, her breath ragged, her heart pounding. Ulfric, too, remained motionless though he seemed not to share her distress. She should ask him to please stop. To just withdraw and let her be. She might yet recover if he would only?—

“Has the discomfort passed, wench?”

“What?”

“Has the pain stopped? It should be but fleeting.”

Fleeting? What was he babbling about? Of course it had not stopped…

Except, it had. She lay still and mentally revisited the site of her earlier agony to find nothing but a dull ache, and that was fast diminishing. She tried an experimental shift of her hips, and discovered only a lingering soreness, a soreness that was not exactly unpleasant.

“Oh, that is odd…”

“Odd? Perhaps. I would call it fucking wonderful. You are so tight, so… hot.”

“It is you who is too large. I told you we would be a bad fit.”

“Look at me, wench. Keep your eyes on mine and do not look away.” He withdrew, his actions unhurried and deliberate, until just the head remained within her entrance. Then he drove his cock slowly back, all the time holding her astonished gaze. “So, do you still believe we are a bad fit?”

The friction was incredible, the sensation quite indescribable as his cock filled her and caressed her inner walls.

She had loved the feel of his fingers inside her, but they were nothing in comparison to this.

Her back arched through no volition of hers and she reached for his shoulders as though to steady herself.

He continued to hold her gaze as he did it again. And again. By the fourth time he plunged his cock into her slick core, Fiona was beyond coherent thought.

Ulfric broke eye contact to lean down and lay his mouth across hers.

The kiss was tender, his tongue dipping between her lips as his cock had done just moments earlier.

Fiona’s response was instinctive and unstudied.

Her tongue danced with his as she wriggled her hips in a circular motion.

She was seeking something she could not name, but knew it had to do with the intensity of sensation where his body now connected with hers, invaded hers.

They were joined, yet she still craved that elusive ‘more.’

Ulfric broke the kiss and leaned to one side, his weight on his left elbow as his right hand snaked between their bodies.

He found that special pleasure spot he had rubbed so mercilessly earlier, rubbed, licked, sucked.

And he took it between his finger and thumb now and he squeezed.

Even as Fiona opened her mouth to scream he drew back and thrust his cock forward again, filling her entirely.

The scream died in her throat as her release consumed her.

Fiona could but cling to him as her body shook and convulsed, as waves of pleasure churned through her, as lights brighter than the summer sun exploded behind her closed eyelids.

Ulfric continued to drive his cock deep and never let up the work of his busy, skilled fingers until the final shimmer and shudder died away. Then he lowered himself over her so that she almost bore his weight, though not quite, and he buried his face in the hollow of her neck.

“Ah, little Celt, you do enchant me.” Then he rammed his cock into her hard, and held still as deep shivers racked his own chiselled torso. He muttered something in his Nordic tongue just moments before her channel was filled with a surge of wet heat.