Page 7 of Seduced by the Viking (Bound and Betrothed #5)

CHAPTER 6

The twelfth day of the men’s sojourn on the island

Rutger took a deep, lung-swelling, life-affirming inhalation of briny sea air. It was good to be outside again, even if he was roped at the ankles, attached to J?rgen and Eldberg, with the watchful eyes of their female guard upon them.

The rope was ridiculous, mind you—between them, they’d have no trouble in removing it, were they ready to do so. Eldberg, ever cunning, had impressed upon them the necessity of appearing compliant, so the rope stayed, regardless of the inconvenience.

Although, from the look of the she-warrior whose eyes followed their every movement, a dash into the forest, even without the rope to hinder them, might prove a challenge. She looked strong as an ox, with height almost to match that of their jarl, and the club she brandished while giving her orders might easily split a man’s skull.

Rutger was of two minds as to whether she’d be brave enough to do so, but he’d no inclination to find out.

In any case, as Eldberg whispered while they set about replacing the hut’s thatching, such restrictions soon would ease if these women thought them willing workers.

“Willing in all the ways, eh, lads!” Eldberg gave Rutger a nudge that near sent him toppling from where he was perched. “Make them think we’re glad to be here. Once they’re less wary, we’ll be free to roam about. All the better for plotting our escape!”

Already, there was talk of moving them up the hillside to work on some sort of water channel. Eldberg’s mind was two steps ahead, formulating a plan to hide some of the timber they’d be felling and to secret some of the tools. Rutger’s left hand was still compromised, thanks to those blasted fingers, but he’d skill enough in his right to do as his jarl asked, carving new oars for their ship.

Though Odin only knows how long that will take!

Repairing the hull and fitting a new mast would come later. J?rgen was tasked with procuring a sail or two.

Rutger paused in hammering down the sheaf of bundled twig and marram grass, casting his gaze along the shoreline. The settlement comprised little more than thirty huts, all of wood, and one larger dwelling—the longhouse, where Eldberg was billeted. Tall dunes separated them from the expanse of the curving bay, while the hillside rose steeply on all sides, covered in lush forest.

The view from farther up would be worth seeing. Even from the modest elevation of the roof, ‘twas a picturesque sight—the sun glinting upon the rushing tide, the water a crystal turquoise over pale sands.

An idyll, one would think, for Grethe had assured him they wanted for nothing. An idyll for him, almost, since he was no longer restrained.

Grethe’s lust for him only seemed to grow, and she was an eager student in the ways of bedsport. Her sharp tongue had even lost some of its edge, employed to coax and charm him.

Nevertheless, he missed the bustle of Skálavík and the chaos of his clucking sisters and their broods.

And ‘twas untrue to say the island women wanted for naught. Save for themselves, there was not a man to be seen. Even the children running upon the beach were girls. Grethe had told no lie in proclaiming the place free of menfolk.

The women went about their work while some of the older folk sat at their doors. No single thing was out of the ordinary, but the atmosphere was subdued. Even the hills above them—surely teeming with all manner of bird and beast—seemed quieter than he would expect.

Naturally, Rutger had wasted no time in sharing what he knew with Eldberg, but his jarl had seemed already aware. Rutger wasn’t surprised. Eldberg had, no doubt, made it his mission to winkle all that was pertinent from the woman he was bedding.

J?rgen, too, had received his report with little more than a nod. Rutger would swear J?rgen knew more than he was letting on, hiding something—perhaps even from Eldberg.

Rutger turned to see J?rgen looking wistful. Eldberg had moved off to the far end of the roof, where he was catching bundles thrown up by their she-guard.

“A beauteous place, though I cannot look to the ocean without seeing those treacherous rocks that brought us so to grief.” J?rgen shook his head sadly.

Rutger understood all too well what he was feeling. He could hardly believe they were now but six. Three times as many had set out from Skálavík—good men, most with families.

J?rgen’s abrupt clutching of Rutger’s arm was almost painful.

“‘Tis more than the rocks that stir my unease. I remember little of that night, but what I do makes me tremble. The way the waves began to roll and the wind’s howling! Then, that strange, creeping mist… Tell me, for the love of Thor, what you recall. My mind is so clouded. And this place! Something is wrong! Yo u must feel it!”

The intensity in J?rgen’s eyes filled Rutger with sudden dread.

“Nay… ‘tis your imagination alone.” He turned away. ‘Twas a fallacy that naught had returned to his memory. Snatches of that terrible night visited his dreams, but such mind-wanderings were of no use to anyone.

Their ship had wrecked.

Men had died.

But he was alive.

J?rgen would do best to keep his focus grounded rather than wandering to the depths.

Rutger had faith in his jarl. If anyone could get them home, ’twas he.

With her picnic basket over her arm, Grethe halted for a moment, allowing herself the pleasure of watching Rutger balanced atop the roof, wielding a mallet. Like the other two, he’d taken off his tunic, baring his torso to the sun, muscular in the back and shoulders and trim at the waist. Muscular all over, as were the other males .

She knew exactly what lay beneath Rutger’s braies , and she’d no complaints—a tight arse, strong thighs, and a cock that always rose to the occasion. She even liked his bollocks, strange, dangling things that they were. She liked the way they drew up high when she kneaded them and the way they pulsed when Rutger was spilling his seed.

If she sat atop him—which was still the best of the sex positions, as far as she was concerned—she could just about reach behind and clasp his plums as he submitted to his final thrusts. It gave her surprising satisfaction, knowing he liked her doing that. There were lots of small things she was learning that had the power to make him gasp and groan.

So much the better!

Grethe’s gaze alighted on Vangreth, who also stood looking up at the three half-naked men.

Look all you like, but hands off! That one in the middle is mine!

As she’d anticipated, Vangreth had taken swift advantage of the opportunity to place herself closer to the incomers. As of the following day, they’d be working up on the hillside, out of sight of the rest of the islanders.

Grethe could well imagine Vangreth stripping off a few layers, then enticing one or more of the men to join her, but if Grethe had anything to do with it, Rutger would not be tempted.

She was going to make sure all lustful thoughts were fulfilled by herself and hump him so thoroughly, he’d not a drop of seed for anyone else.

“Hey, there!” Grethe called out. “I’ve victuals for the workers. The milk is still warm from Brunhilda’s teats.”

If that doesn’t get Rutger’s mind upon rutting, nothing will. The man is obsessed with breasts.

“Stop right there!” Vangreth raised her hand as the first of the men began descending the ladder. “‘Tis me who says when the prisoners get to eat.”

“Well, one of those prisoners belongs to me, and I say he’s hungry now.” Grethe reached into the basket and took out the portions of food intended for the other two men, setting them upon a nearby stone alongside two stoppered flasks. “By all means, make the others wait if it’s your whim, though this milk might start curdling in the sun. Rutger is coming with me, and I’ll be taking him a way off.”

Grethe smiled sweetly at Vangreth’s scowling face.

“‘Tis near my fertile time, and I need him to make a particular effort. Food first. Swiving after. I might make him do it twice, just to be sure.”

Vangreth’s eyes bulged with anger, but she could hardly argue. The begetting of children was more important than roof mending, and Grethe had ultimate charge over her mate.

The men didn’t wait for further debate, all three of them hot-tailing to the ground.

“There are nuts, fruit dumplings, and a rabbit leg for you.” Grethe laid out a blanket while Rutger drank from the flask. “We can eat now or wait until after.”

With a satisfied sigh, he wiped his lips with his forearm. “You don’t waste any time, do you, Sweetling? As horny as a field of rams, that’s what you are.”

“Charming!” Grethe folded her arms in mock offense. She’d given up telling him not to use love terms with her. In truth, she quite liked it, though she set no store by him using them.

He was right that she was hungry for more than the contents of the basket. She wanted his braies off and his cock inside her as swiftly as possible.

She’d picked a secluded spot for the tryst, a little way up the hill, behind Bothild’s hut. No one would disturb them. Even were they to do so, she didn’t much care. Let them see how well she had her man trained and that she could take her delight wherever and whenever she fancied it.

In a trice, she had her gunna over her head, then her undershift.

With my dumplings on display, he won’t be bothered about the ones in the basket!

“Swiving first.” Rutger loosened the braies and kicked them off before fisting his phallus.

Really, when one became used to the ways of men, they were very predictable.

“I give you leave to choose our position—at least for the first go.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I’ve a hankering for you bent over, but I’m not fussy.”

“As if I need your leave for anything! I liked you better when you were tied up and kept in the dark.” Just to be contrary, she rolled over onto her belly and clamped her legs firmly together.

“And I like you just as you are now, with the sun warming you. Open up for me, Sweetling, and I can take my first course.”

As she’d hoped, a hard slap came to her bottom. He flopped down beside her, so she took a matching swipe at his behind, her hand making a pleasingly loud smack on his flesh.

He grinned at her. “Ha! You can’t resist me.”

“Nay. ‘Tis you who cannot resist me,” Grethe countered.

“Only because you spend all your time luring me with your wiles. When you show a man your luscious arse, what other thoughts is he supposed to have? I’ve been halfway hard all the morning, imagining what I’d like to do with this ripe peach.” He placed a playful bite upon her left cheek.

“I cannot blame you, I suppose.” She looked at him over her shoulder.

“Aye!” The glint in his eyes was well-ignited. “Nice arse, nice breasts, and a hot, tight cunny. I like the way your scent grows stronger when you’re slippery for me and the way your bud swells up, protruding like the tip of a tongue between your netherlips... asking for me to kiss it and slide my cock beneath. ‘Tis as if it’s speaking to me. Your other orifice is just as alluring. When I split your cheeks, your puckered place gapes open and closed, asking for a good fucking.”

“By the gods, man! You don’t need to utter every crude thought that comes into your head!” Did he speak about her like this with the other men? The idea was mortifying yet strangely arousing. She wouldn’t mind Rutger boasting about how much he enjoyed their bedsport… if he would but leave off mentioning her arsehole!

“You’d prefer I just showed you what I like…” Gently, he eased her onto her back. “Showed you what I know you like…” He trailed his fingers lazily about one nipple, then the other, before pulling a rosy peak into his mouth .

He wasn’t being gentle anymore.

Quite the opposite.

Her hips rose to show she liked it.

With a contented sigh, she surrendered to his play before he made his way down her stomach, fastening upon her bud, as he called it. There was nothing for it but to let him have his way. Some light flicking with his tongue, alternating with him drawing the little thing into his mouth, and she was panting and crying, melting like butter.

She was soon pulling his hair.

On the other side of her peak, she seemed to remember grinding herself upward onto his face. From the look of him when he emerged from between her legs, it was definitely possible.

“How was that?” He was smirking. “Passably pleasant?”

Arrogant addle-pate.

“Passably. Now, come here.” She dragged him by the ears. “There’s more to my body than that. I want you to kiss my neck.” ‘Twas a small request. A silly thing. The sort of softness real lovers engaged in, but it was what she wanted.

Sliding upward, his hands skimmed her waist. He nuzzled beneath her lobe, took it between his teeth, tugged and nibbled, then followed the long sinew from her hairline to her collarbone and up again. Working along her jaw, he found her lips. His kisses there were just as leisurely—bringing with them the tang of Grethe’s arousal. ‘Twas a strangely intimate thing, this sharing of juices—his brine and her cream intermingled below and tasted upon the tongue.

Somewhere in-between, she’d allowed him to rest in the cradle of her thighs. His erection had found her sheath quite naturally and pushed inside.

He moved slowly, gliding back and forth in an easy rhythm. His mouth caressed hers in the same fashion, his tongue exploring, then drawing hers forward.

‘Twas lustful, but something else, too.

Her body felt light and sensitive to every sensation—his chest hair across her nipples, the light graze of his testicles where her bottom met her legs, his breath upon her face.

He pushed deeper but kept his pace, making her wait for each measured thrust. If he kept this up, she’d come again. She could feel the exquisite pressure building.

Tugging her bottom lip, he brushed his nose to hers.

“I could grow to like this way of mating as long as we fuck fast afterward. I could lay with you every morn, noon, and night until the end of days. It would always be good, Grethe, being inside you.”

“Don’t get ideas.” Reaching around, she gave his rear a pinch. “You’re mine—for now—but I shan’t be keeping you. This lasts only as long as I want it to, so mind, or I may feed you to Vangreth. Then you’ll be in trouble.”

“Hmmm.” He hummed against her mouth, grinding down a touch harder.

Grethe bit her lip.

Oh yes, she was going to come, and it was going to be glorious.