Viking (A Real Man, 9) Page 4

  He moved back slightly, lifting his hand, and I could see that his fingers were glistening from my arousal, from my need for him. My breath stalled when he sucked his fingers into his mouth, licking all my desire off the digits. The sound he made was like a wounded animal. His abdomen rippled, the muscles on his stomach clenching, the hills and dips coming out in stark clarity under his tanned, tattooed, and scarred flesh.

  He gripped himself, his shaft hard, so big and long my throat tightened, and stroked himself from root to tip. He was ready for me, and I worried that maybe he wouldn’t fit, maybe the pain would be too much even if I was worked up for him I couldn’t think straight.

  “You like watching me touch myself, needing you like a fucking beast?”

  I could only nod. He continued to watch me. With every stroke he made, the foreskin was pulled back, revealing the slit and clear fluid at the tip…a testament to how turned on he was, how much he wanted me. That was a heady, exciting reality, and one I clung to.

  This is all because of me.

  7

  Gunnar

  Ingrid was so innocent. She was mine, and I’d treat her right, make her happy, pleased…I’d make her know there wasn’t anyone else in the world for me.

  I’d been trying to keep my desires under control, to not frighten her or make her think I was a beast. But I couldn’t control myself anymore, not when she was ready for me, not when I was liable to come before I was even inside her.

  And that wasn’t going to happen. When I let loose, I’d be deep in her body, making her take my seed, making her smell like me.

  I’d mark her.

  I looked at her for a suspended moment, just watched as the firelight licked across her body, her curves. The scent of her was intoxicating, making me feel like I’d downed copious amounts of mead—I was drunk on her. I lifted a chunk of her blonde waves, smoothing the strands between my fingers, and brought them to my nose, inhaling deeply. I’d always know her scent. I’d imprint myself on her, take her very essence into my body for all time.

  I heard her swallow, saw the slender line of her throat work from the act. I didn’t want to torment her any longer, didn’t want to do that to myself either. As it was I found myself pressing against her, shoving my cock into her slit, feeling it slide up and down her slick heat.

  “I could devour you until there was nothing left.” I moved close again so our mouths were inches apart. “And still it wouldn’t be enough, still I’d be hungry for you.” I watched as she licked her red, succulent, lush lips. I’d have her mouth wrapped around my cock soon enough. Right now I needed to feel her quaking for me, needed to have her pussy clenching my shaft, bringing herself to that pinnacle.

  “This will be your first time, but I’ll make you scream with pleasure.” Her breasts rose and fell harshly, her breathing rapid, wild. “No more waiting.” I leaned forward and claimed her mouth in the only way I knew how, in the only way that mattered.

  Possessive.

  All-consuming.

  Brutal.

  She started kissing me back desperately, holding on to my shoulders with her little hands, digging her nails into my flesh, making me hiss in pleasure.

  “I am so hard for you, Ingrid, so ready for you, wife.” I knew it would always be like this. “I need to feel myself filling you up, need you to take my seed, to be marked by me.”

  “Gods, Gunnar.”

  I groaned in response.

  She made soft noises of desperation and need.

  I slipped my hand behind her nape, curled my finger into her soft flesh, and kissed her harder, more demandingly. When she lifted her hips, my cock slipping faster, harder against her cleft, a low growl spilled from me.

  I couldn’t control my breathing and felt my cock stiffen even further, the heavy sac beneath it drawing up tight to my body. I growled and dragged my other hand up her slender hips, along her flat stomach, and cupped a large breast. Tweaking her nipple until she squirmed beneath me, until she made soft sounds, had been the goal. Thrusting my cock against her only made my need for her heighten.

  “Do I make you feel good, my female?”

  She nodded her answer. That was good enough for me. I started licking a path along the curve of her neck, into the hollow at the base of it, and panted against her throat.

  “You make me feel drunk.”

  “Gunnar,” was her response.

  “Part for me, let me see what’s mine, Ingrid.” My voice was rough, harsh from my arousal. I leaned back, giving her room, watching as she obeyed. The sight of her lips spreading, showing me her pink center, her wet slit, had me groaning like a ravaged beast.

  “Please,” my wife moaned. “I need you.”

  Resting my forehead on hers, I tried to control my breathing. I reached between us, took hold of my shaft, and stroked myself for a few seconds. My cockhead was wet from the constant pre-cum that came from the tip, and I knew I could come from this alone. She watched as I pleasured myself, and my whole body grew even tenser at that fact.

  “Spread your lips for me.” I stared into her eyes. “Let me see how pink your center is.” And when she did just that, and I saw her pussy opening, the place I’d soon dominate, I fucking lost it.

  Ingrid

  I showed him the most intimate part of me, a place no one had ever touched, had ever seen.

  And Gunnar looked at me as if I was a feast and he was starving.

  I couldn’t help but stare at where he gripped himself. He was so long, so thick. My inner muscles clenched at the thought of him fitting himself inside of me.

  A warrior who was so brutal and beautiful.

  “Look at me, my female.”

  I forced myself to lift my gaze from his impressive, almost frightening manhood. His eyes watched me, regarding me with a blue intensity that had my heart racing. I wasn’t afraid of him, although maybe I should have been. Maybe I should have felt more fear, more apprehension for what he wanted from me…with me.

  If it was possible, I grew wetter between my thighs.

  This flush stole over me, rushing along my limbs, along my neck and face. And the longer he stared at me, the more he controlled me with a pleasurable haze, the higher my need for him grew.

  He placed his hands on my inner thighs and slid his big fingers along my skin, sending fire rushing through me. And then he pushed my legs open even wider, the muscles protesting, screaming, burning in only the best of ways.

  “As much as I want to push into you right now”—his throat worked as he swallowed—“I need to taste you with a desperation that rivals anything else I’ve ever experienced.”

  My stomach hollowed in and out as I breathed roughly. He had his hands by my pussy, his fingers by my lips. He spread me apart, the cool air drifting along my exposed flesh. He was lowered between my legs, his mouth right by my intimate part.

  “You smell so fucking good, look so incredible.”

  I closed my eyes as soon as I felt his tongue on me, flattened, hot, wet. He licked me from pussy hole to the little nub at the top of my sex. Then he sucked that engorged little bundle into his mouth, and my upper body rose off the bed from the sensations that slammed into me. He had a hand right under my breast, holding me in place as he licked and sucked and brought me to a place that surely the gods visited.

  He held me open, licking me until I gasped, sucking in air, trying to stay conscious. And then it was like something broke inside of me, that same intense pleasure that had me soaring, grasping, clutching for something solid. The sounds coming from me were broken, pleading. The sounds coming from Gunnar were like a wounded animal, a starved beast.

  Only when I tried pushing him away, so weak, so sensitive, did Gunnar move back. I forced my eyes open, not even realizing I’d had them shut. He had his hands braced on the bed on either side of my shoulders, his huge warrior body blocking out everything else. I stared at his mouth, his lips glossy from what he’d been doing to me, from what he’d wrung from me. He didn’t make me wait
to know what he’d do next. He gripped my chin, leaned in, and kissed me, forcing me taste myself on him. He speared his hand in my hair and pulled on the strands forcefully. I felt the hot, hard length of him press between my thighs as he continued to kiss me. But what I really wanted was to have his shaft at my entrance, pushing into me, stretching me…owning me.

  And then without breaking the kiss, he reached between our bodies and had the tip of his dick at the entrance of my body. Everything in me froze, stilled. I didn’t breathe, didn’t even think my heart beat at that moment.

  The fierceness that covered his face, and the way he looked down at me, as if almost waiting for my permission to proceed, had a flush stealing over me. This was not just a man, not just my husband. He was a Viking, brutal, raw with power, maybe even barbaric when the time called for it. He took what he wanted, no doubt, expecting compliance, submission. But right now he waited for me, waiting to make sure I was okay.

  I smoothed my hands over his inked arms, the muscles flexing underneath my fingers.

  “I’m ready for you.”

  He groaned deeply and closed his blue eyes. “You’re mine. You belong to me.” When he opened his eyes again, I could see that truth reflected back at me. This was about me being his possession. This was about me being his in all ways, the same way he was mine.

  When I felt his body tense even further, I knew what was coming. He pushed deep inside of me in one thrust, breaking through my maidenhead, making me untouched no longer. I arched my back, my breasts thrust out, my mouth opened on a silent cry. The pain was immense, his size making me gasp. I knew he was big, that there would be discomfort, but the stretching, the burning of his penetration had tears pricking the corners of my eyes.

  Gunnar leaned down and licked those tears away, took them from me, my pain, and gave me pleasure. He started moving then, back and forth, over and over again, slow, easy, steady. The heavy weight of his balls pressed to my bottom every time he thrust into me.

  He didn’t say a word, just kept his eyes locked on mine, his concentration clear.

  His massive chest rose and fell as he breathed. “Never have I felt anything so incredible as being deep in your pussy.” Gunnar buried himself to the hilt in me, and I felt my eyes widen, my lips part slightly. My inner muscles were clenching rhythmically around his girth.

  “So good, my Ingrid.” He pulled out so the tip was lodged in my body. A heartbeat passed, and then he thrust back in. We both cried out in pleasure.

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  It was as if that one word set him off. He went primal, savage then. His harsh grunts fueled my lust.

  He was fucking me now. There was no other way to say what he was doing.

  He moved in and out of me until our skin was slapping together, our sweat mixing as one. Gunnar pulled back and looked down the length of our bodies at where we were connected. I followed suit. I moaned at the sight of him tunneling in and out of me, his thick shaft covered in my glossy desire and my virginal blood.

  He grunted out his pleasure, and mine increased. I gasped, and he held my hips in such a tight, unyielding hold. He kept me in place as he claimed me, as he made it known that I was his, using his body, pleasuring me to the ends of the world.

  Gunnar buried himself deep inside of me, over and over again, bringing me to the very heavens with each thrust. I felt full, so stretched, the pleasure and pain mixing as one, making me light-headed, crazed for more.

  And then in one powerful thrust he pushed back in, his pelvis to mine, pushing me up the pallet, my back sliding along the furs, the burn intense and so good.

  “Gods,” he groaned, his body so big, so hard above me. He filled me, his hot seed touching every inch of me, slipping from where our bodies were conjoined. He cursed and murmured harsh things. His eyes were closed, his neck strained, his face in an almost painful expression. He finally relaxed atop me, his heavy weight a delicious sensation.

  “This is how a warrior feels when he finds the one he wants to keep.” He sounded like he was speaking to himself. He opened his eyes and glanced at me. “This is surely what Valhalla feels like.”

  When he pulled out of me, we both made disappointed sounds. Before I could move, he had his arm around my middle, pulling me tightly to him, laying a kiss on my shoulder.

  Our skin was sweating, pressed against each other, so erotic, so pleasing. I felt the wetness from his desire and mine coat my inner thighs. He had a hand between my legs, as if knowing what I’d just been thinking. I gasped and shifted when he slipped a finger into me, pushing his seed back into my body.

  “I belong here. Always.”

  He pumped his finger into me lazily, and I sighed, feeling heat rise in me again.

  “Mine,” he said huskily, and I felt perfect, so much so I actually smiled. Gunnar leaned down and kissed my forehead, a sweet and gentle act that seemed so misplaced, given a first look at him. He slipped his finger from me and pulled the hide over us. I felt myself start to drift to sleep, content, safe, happy. I didn’t know what the future held, but what I did know was that I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

  8

  Ingrid

  A chill washed over me and opened my eyes. The furs were down around my waist, my chest was exposed, and despite the fire that burned in the center of the hut, keeping everything warm, I was cold.

  Because Gunnar wasn’t next to me.

  I stretched, my body deliciously sore in all the right places, and slid my hand over to where he’d slept. The furs were chilled, but the remembrance of his heat, of what we’d shared, would forever be imprinted in my mind and body.

  He’d owned me in a way no other male ever had.

  He’d claimed me so I would only crave him.

  Even now, just thinking about what we’d done, what we’d shared the night before, made me flush. I was wet, ready for him again.

  I heard grunts a short way from the hut, sounds of men fighting, of warriors trying to defeat each other. I got a flash of the night in my village, the death, the violence.

  I moved off the bed and grabbed a shift. I slipped a leather shawl over my shoulders, tied my hair back with a leather tie, and made my way toward the door. I pulled it open and looked around, but didn’t see anything at first. I ventured away from the hut, following the noise, and came to a crowd of villagers. They were in a circle, and I could see through the break in bodies two massive men fighting.

  And one of them was Gunnar.

  The closer I got to the crowd, the more people noticed me. They parted, letting me in, allowing me to see the fight. No, this wasn’t a fight but training.

  I could only stand there and watch as Gunnar and another huge man fought. They had axes, sparring with each other. Their bodies were corded with muscle, their strength saturating the air, covering me, making me feel immensely feminine. I couldn’t take my gaze off Gunnar. He fought with a focused, controlled expression, his movements strategically placed, precise. I was transfixed as I watched them fight hand-to-hand. Although they were equally matched—or appeared so in height and weight—I could see the skill in Gunnar’s moves.

  He said something to the other man in their native tongue. Giving him instruction, I realized.

  I couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe as I watched Gunnar. He moved as if he were a wild animal, stealthy, experienced. I was drunk off him, the sight of this man all mine, this beast of a male that protected what was his, even if that meant killing.

  It seemed like days I stood there watching them, transfixed by them. But then Gunnar got the upper hand, taking the other Viking down, making him surrender. Gunnar was sweating, his wide, muscular chest heaving up and down from the exertion. He held his hand out, helping the other male up. They gripped each other’s forearms, a warrior’s touch.

  The other man left the center of the circle, and when I turned my focus back to Gunnar, I saw that he watched me. My heart thundered at the heavy-lidded look he gave me, the heat between us, the chemist
ry I knew he felt as well, moving between us powerfully.

  “Your turn, sweetness.”

  I swallowed, feeling everyone watching me, waiting to see what I’d do, how I’d handle myself.

  I reached out and took the ax he offered, the weight almost making my arm drop to my side. But I held it, kept it up, not letting the blade touch the ground.

  “Show me how you protect yourself.” He stood before me, his ax at the ready, although I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to me. He wanted me to be able to protect myself if I had to, if the time ever came.

  Someone beside me handed me a shield, and coupled with me holding the ax, my arms ached, the burn settling into my muscles.

  “I’d never let anything harm you,” he said softly. “But I need you to be able to handle yourself in case.”

  All I thought about in that moment were those beasts coming to my village, trying to take what wasn’t theirs.

  And then Gunnar came forward, his eyes focused on me.

  “Always keep your gaze on the other person, but also watch your sides.” He made a show of looking side to side. “Enemies will come at you from all directions. You have to be ready for anything.”

  I nodded. My throat was tight, my heart racing. He came forward even more, his movements slow. When he lifted his ax, I raised the shield. He was going so slow it was easy enough for me to block his blow. I felt like I was holding my breath.

  “Now come at me, ax raised, arm straight. You want to hit me here,” he said and hit his chest with the hand that held the ax. “You want to make sure you get a fatal blow, that they can’t come back at you.” He took a step closer. “Because they will, Ingrid. They’ll come after you if you don’t hit them where it counts at the first go.”

  I swung my weapon, knowing how to handle myself to a degree, but nothing like how these warriors had been trained.