Viking (A Real Man, 9) Read online

  I had given her the option to leave, but truth was I wouldn’t have let her. I’d claimed her. She would be my wife. I couldn’t let her walk away, not when I’d just found her. I would have followed her anywhere, and convinced her she was mine.

  Thorsen and Viggo were watching me when I stepped away from her, making sure she’d fallen asleep. No doubt they were confused and annoyed by this change of plans. The other warriors readied the ship for our departure.

  “You’re really keeping her?” Viggo asked, his voice controlled, his emotions in check.

  “She’s mine,” I said sternly. “I’ll take her as my wife, as my mate. I told you that. I meant it.”

  “We’ve just barely conquered the raiders,” Thorsen replied.

  I stopped, looked between the two men, and felt my need for Ingrid rise up so powerfully it rivaled any battle I’d ever been in. “She’s mine. If you want to fight me for her…”

  The men looked at me, but they knew not to press this, that if I said something, it went. They also knew I wouldn’t have been this adamant on anything unless it was what I wanted. “She’s under my protection, and therefore under yours as well.”

  Both men nodded. That was it, the end of it, sealed in fucking stone.

  Now I just needed to make Ingrid see that she would be mine.

  My wife.

  My mate.

  The future mother of my children.

  Nothing will take her from me.

  We set sail back to our home. I wanted her to see she’d be welcomed, that no matter what I’d keep her safe. Even though she had a fire inside her that made me hard, made me proud, it was my job to watch over her.

  I let her sleep and get her strength up as we kept on course toward my village. She’d certainly need it for what I had planned when we got to the village, for what I’d do to her, how I’d claim her.

  And she’d want it from me. She’d beg me for it, and scream out my name as she came unhinged in my arms.

  She’d understand I was the only one who could ever make her feel alive.

  Ingrid

  “Open for me, Ingrid,” Gunnar said softly, his deeply accented voice spearing right into the most intimate, heated parts of me. He had this command to the way he said things, to the way he wanted me to bend. It wasn’t in a controlling way, but more that he wanted to care for me. I’d felt that the moment he’d killed the men trying to hurt me, looked into my eyes, and told me I was his.

  “Let me feed you.” His voice was low, almost seductive in quality.

  I parted my lips, and Gunnar slipped the piece of meat into my mouth. When I closed my mouth, his fingers were still between my lips. The way his body tightened, his pupils dilated, and his breathing increased told me this was affecting him just as strongly as it had me.

  The sound of the wind beating against the hide he had draped over us, a makeshift wall and roof, a bit of privacy and protection, made this fluttering start in my belly. He was taking care of me, wanting me to be happy, comfortable. I’d only been here with him for a short time, but already I felt myself falling for the rugged, strong Viking. He was unlike any male I’d ever come across. Even the best, most revered warrior in my village didn’t hold a flame to Gunnar.

  The sound of the rain pelting on the hide, a gentle rocking from the boat, and the warmth coming from Gunnar could have lulled me back to sleep.

  My tongue touched the tip of one of his fingers as if it had a mind of its own, and I heard a deep groan come from him, like a blade hitting a thick tree trunk. He went for another piece of food to feed me, but I shook my head.

  “I want you full, content.”

  I felt a rush of heat spread through me. “I am.” In more ways than I’d admit.

  Only after a few seconds of staring at me, maybe seeing if I was being honest, did he nod and push the food back. Although I’d never been on a Viking ship, the pallet under me was comfortable. It smelled like Gunnar, this woodsy, masculine aroma that surrounded me. I shifted on the pallet of furs, feeling myself become uncomfortable in the best of ways because of the close proximity of Gunnar.

  He handed me a pouch of water, and I took a long drink from it. I didn’t miss how he was focused on my mouth when I dragged my tongue along my bottom lip, collecting a droplet of water on it.

  “Where are we going?” I finally asked. I guess I’d just gone along with it, figuring that was part of the adventure. But I was curious.

  “My home,” Gunnar said, his voice seeming thicker still. “Your new home. We have another day of travel.”

  I smoothed my hands over my clothes. They were dirty, and I was in desperate need of bathing, if only to feel better about myself.

  I want to look good for Gunnar. I want to please him.

  The words played through my head, a truth that I was still slightly confused about.

  “Once we are back at the village, I’ll prepare a warm bath, with oils and dried flowers, only the best for you.” His voice had gone an octave lower, and that tingling started in my belly again, moving through me swiftly.

  My heart was racing, the image of Gunnar bathing himself, running a piece of hide over his muscular body, filling my head in the most erotic of ways. I’d never had a man sleep with me, never felt them between my thighs, bringing me pleasure as they took their own. But from the moment I watched Gunnar slay those men, felt his body heat seep into mine, and heard his declaration that I was his, something in me had shifted toward him. I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anyone, more than I ever thought I could.

  It had me feeling alive, desired, wanted.

  And that should have scared me more than anything else.

  Gunnar

  I wish I had been able to give her warm water, not only to make her happy, but also to marvel at her curves. I could see the way her breasts rose and fell under her shift, and my body reacted instantly. My cock, always semihard when she was near, sprang forth like a beast. I was insatiable for her, wanting to claim her, make it known she was mine in every single sense of the word.

  I reached out, took a strand of her long blonde hair, the plait smooth, a shine coming through some of the dirt in her braid. I was pleased she didn’t move away from me, that she seemed to enjoy me touching her, given the fact that she panted even more.

  “What did you mean when you said I was yours?”

  I lifted my gaze to her face. I brought that plait to my nose and inhaled deeply. There was this undercurrent of sweetness and earth. “It means exactly what it means.” I started undoing the plait, my focus on her eyes as I moved to the other one and undid that, the tight waves moving along her face. “It means I’ve claimed you, that you’ll be my wife.” I pushed the hair off her shoulders, slid my finger along her gently curved collarbones, and held in a groan. “It means I’ll protect you until I draw my last breath, until the sun stops shining.” I leaned in an inch closer. “It means that if anyone thought of touching you, I’d rip out their heart and serve it to them as dinner.” I heard her swallow, a little sound coming from her. I could have taken her right then, but that wasn’t how I wanted this to start. That’s not how I wanted any of this to begin. “Tell me what that sounds like to you, Ingrid.” I waited for her to answer me. I needed her to.

  “It means you won’t let me go.”

  The way she said that told me she understand the depth of it all. “And…” I urged.

  “It means I am yours—”

  “And I am yours.” I leaned in and kissed her then, slanted my mouth on hers, made her take my tongue, urged her to take mine in return, to suck on it. I groaned, reached out and cupped the back of her head, and fucked her mouth like I’d be doing to her pussy soon enough.

  I pulled away far too soon, but if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself. I wouldn’t have been able to wait, to make this right for her. I could be a patient Viking, and I sure as hell could wait for my mate until I had her on my pallet back in my village.

  4

 
; Gunnar

  I stared out at my village, my home. Everyone gathered by the shore, lining the white-pebbled beach, their welcoming smiles letting me know where my heart was. I turned and looked at Ingrid. I’d wrapped a thick fur around her, her slender body so much smaller than mine.

  “Home,” I said, the pride in my voice evident. She nodded and smiled, and I wanted to pull her in right then and there and kiss her until she was breathless. To think I’d gone on this mission to end the lives of demons, to take them down and bring peace within my village, only to find my future wife. I kept her close, needing her right beside me, protected, safe.

  I glanced at Thorsen and Viggo, both men keeping their warrior expressions in place, their hardened exteriors the type of men they were…the type of men we all were. They just hadn’t found the one woman they wanted to claim, to make theirs. Rutting between furs was all they’d know unless they could feel that pull, that need to fight heaven and hell, the very gods, to make sure this female stayed right by their sides.

  And when their time came—and I knew it would—they’d fall to their knees, just like I had when I’d first seen Ingrid.

  Once we were docked and off the ship, I led her through the village. I assumed she noticed the way people regarded us, the way they showed their respect in addressing their leader. I took her toward my hut, wanting her to get out of the chilled air, needing to get her alone. It was nice having her close on the ship, but we were never fully alone. I wanted to be able to look at her, make her comfortable, and see that pleasure wash over her face. I wanted to be the male that gave her what she needed.

  “You lead the village, their king?” she asked, the fur still wrapped tightly around her. I wanted to rip it off, to see what lay beneath.

  “I do. I am, although I don’t want to be held in that regard. I make sure they are fed, protected. I make sure they are safe with the help of the other men.” I lowered my head slightly, my focus on her, watching as she looked around. “It’s why we went after the raiders. They took from us, put this community in danger. They’d killed out people. I couldn’t stand for that, the warriors in this village couldn’t let them get away with what they’d done.” I could see the question in her eyes. She probably thought Vikings were all the same, and I suppose in a sense we were all alike in that we wanted to provide.

  “You don’t take from others?” Her voice was soft, as if she were hesitant in asking the question. I’d never hurt her, and she’d come to find that out soon enough. My priority was making sure she was happy and safe.

  “We do, but we don’t kill for sport. We kill to protect, to keep what’s ours. If we need something to make our village thrive, we don’t question how to get that, how to provide. If someone stands in our way, trying to stop us from making sure we can get what we need for our people, we take them down.” I cupped her cheek. “But the raiders we killed, they’d been out for nothing but blood. Raping, killing, that was their sport. They were not true men, not males that cared about anything but themselves. Hurting others is what gave them pleasure, not making sure their people survived.”

  She nodded, and I could see she understood what I meant. I focused on the village again, seeing my hut in the distance. We made our way closer, and I pushed the wooden door open for her, allowing her to enter first. There wasn’t much to it, but it was warm, a fire already roaring from a villager who’d no doubt seen our approach. My bed was thick, the furs making up the pallet more than wide enough to accommodate both of us and keep my wife warm.

  “I’ll have some food brought in, and then get a bath ready for you.”

  The way she looked at me, the appreciation in her eyes, made me feel proud I could give her this. I quickly found Finn, a young boy desperately wanting to become a skilled warrior. He ran off to get my female food, as well as hot water for her bath.

  “You were born into it, this position?”

  I took a step closer to her, saw the way her pulse beat frantically beneath her ear. “No.” I took another step closer. “I fought for the title, killed the tyrant who had led us.” Her eyes only widened a fraction. I could see on her face that this wasn’t news to her. She had lived in a village, and most practices were done most places. If you wanted to rule, you needed to be willing to die, to kill for it.

  I looked into her eyes and reached out to grab her hand. Her skin was warm and soft. Her palm fit perfectly in mine. She was just so small everywhere, so tiny, feminine. I wanted her right then and there, but her needs came first, not the other way around.

  She gave me a smile, and the sight had every part of me rising up, almost saying fuck the bath, fuck the food. I desired to make her feel good, to meet her needs that way. It might be hard to control myself, but I wouldn’t be an animal with her, not the first time at least. I wanted Ingrid comfortable with my touch, craving it, begging me for it. And once she was soft and ready, primed for me, then I’d spread her thighs and push my cock deep into her body. I watched as she lowered her gaze to my chest, then descended even further to my leathers. Her eyes widened, and I knew she was taking in the stiff erection pressed against the material.

  My cock was big, just like the rest of me. I’d need her stretched, primed, and ready for when I took her for the first time, for when I claimed her pussy as mine.

  Finn entered, a crate of food in his arms. Another young man pulled in a bath basin. Finn set the crate down and went out, coming back a few moments later carrying two jugs of water. He filled the basin and left the hut once more, doing this over and over until the basin was filled with steaming hot water. The other young man had been setting up a table and food. A feast was spread out, a bath was prepared, and my woman would be well taken care of.

  “Come, my sweet Ingrid.” I gestured for her to come to me, needing her to obey, to let me take care of her. I saw the way she stared my body, the arousal in her eyes, the confusion that she could feel anything for me after such a short time. I was a man and she was my woman, and I wasn’t letting her go. I couldn’t.

  I would bathe her and run my hands along her smooth, creamy skin. I’d wash her hair, take the wet strands between my fingers, and watch as she reacted to my touch. Then I would take her to bed. I wanted it to be gentle, sweet for the first coupling, but I was a warrior, a hardened and skilled fighter, a killer. I was raw and untamed on the best of days, and taming my passion for her was almost an unspeakable promise.

  I was brutal, but I’d be gentle. I could be gentle.

  I got down on my haunches and started undoing her boots. I worked the leather off, rubbing her feet in the process, and looked up at her from my crouching position. Once those were off and to the side, I went for her pants, then her shift. She didn’t stop me, and in fact breathed harder, her little hands in fists at her sides, as if she had a hard time controlling herself. I knew all about that. I placed my hands on her waist, moving my thumbs over her smooth skin, and although she was now naked for me, I kept my focus on her face. And when I looked down at her mouth, I held in a groan at the fact that her lips were red and slightly swollen. She’d been biting them, bringing the blood to the surface.

  “You want me, wife?” I asked, feeling my eyes growing heavy-lidded. She licked her lips and nodded, and I didn’t hold in my moan then. “Then we’ll bathe together. I’ll wash you, make you clean, feel good.”

  She breathed harder, her full breasts rising and falling. I looked my fill then, taking in the creaminess of her skin, the way her nipples were pink and hard. Her waist was tucked in, tiny. She was so small compared to me, almost fragile. And between her legs... I ran a hand over my face, feeling the scruff under my palm. Blond hair covered her pussy, but I could see her slit, knew she was wet for me.

  Despite the fact that the hut was warm, so warm I felt beads of sweat line my back, I saw her flesh pucker as if she were chilled. I started removing my clothes, and when I was nude, I let her have her fill of me. She looked at my chest, moved lower yet, and when she looked at my cock, her eyes widened
slightly. My dick was hard, so hard it ached. I wanted to touch myself, to ease some of the strain I felt, but I refrained. I didn’t want to be a bastard about this. I wanted Ingrid to be the one to pleasure me, to touch me, to see what she did to me in all ways.

  My dick jerked with every second she looked at me.

  I held my hand out. “Come here, Ingrid.” My voice was pitched low. I was immensely pleased that she came to me right away, slipping her hand into mine, allowing me to pull her into the hardness of my body.

  “I want to bathe with you, want to wash you, tend to you.” I watched as she swallowed, the slender line of her throat working from the act. “You want that, don’t you?” I felt pleasure when she nodded, when the little pants of her warm breath went along my chest. I was hard as fucking stone right now, and tonight I’d claim Ingrid.

  5

  Ingrid

  Gunnar was all hard, cut muscles. He was all male, all powerful, and all mine. I don’t know the exact time I decided he was mine, the same way I was his. I didn’t even care, because it felt good, right.

  And he was so big…everywhere. I stared at him, at the cut lines that made up his form, at the Norse tattoos that covered his golden flesh. I let my gaze follow the scars that marked his chest and arms, and surely his back, too. He was a brutal warrior, had probably seen countless battles.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured under his breath, his arousal for me apparent in his expression but also in the thick, monstrous rod he sported between his legs. “I want you, want to devour you, make you cry out in pleasure.”

  Wanting to be honest with him, I opened my mouth, needing to tell him this was my first time, that although I wanted this, I might not be what he expected…needed. “I’m untouched,” I said, my voice soft, my emotions reserved. He might not want me, might want a female more experienced, who could handle the passion a warrior like him could provide.