Page 42 of The Caged Viking

Their next bout of lovemaking was initiated by Kirstin, to her later embarrassment, no doubt. Was she losing her mind, or God forbid, her heart? To an arrogant, ungrateful, bloodthirsty, eleventh century Viking, of all things! Just because he had a knack for turning her on! How dumb was that?

Kirstin didn’t think she’d ever been the one to make the first move in bed before. At this time, though…an hour or more after they’d both surrendered their satisfied bodies to the peace of post-coital slumber, Kirstin roused herself enough to realize that she was practically wrapped around a sleeping Hauk, clinging to him like a limpet that would never let go. And both of them naked!

Even worse, she found herself horny, again, after the best lovemaking of her life.

Which prompted that little imp in her head, the one that plagued all women at one time or another, to whisper, “Why not?”

Hauk was splatted on his back, his legs spread, his arms flung overhead in complete abandon, and she reclined half on her side, half over him with her face planted in the curve of his neck and shoulder (I hope I’m not drooling!), one breast resting on his chest (Oh, no! Why is my nipple so big and rosy? As if I don’t know! Hope the other looks the same or I’ll have a mismatched pair. Ha, ha, ha! Aaarrgh!), one arm wrapped around his waist with her fingers digging into the flesh (He’ll probably have bruises from my nails!), one knee nudging his flaccid penis (How cute!). There was no way he could get up and escape without alerting her first, (as some jerkoff men were wont to do once the deed was done—not to her, but she’d heard of such creeps).

Bracing herself on one elbow, she was able to raise her head enough to get a better look. Hauk Thorsson was a prime specimen of masculinity, despite his apparent weight loss and the numerous scars that didn’t so much mar his body as give it character. He had to be six feet three, at least, and built like a quarterback with broad shoulders and slim hips and long muscle-sculpted legs. His narrow feet were rather sexy, too.

She glanced at his face, which was Nordic perfection. Even in sleep, he appeared tense, probably a symptom of soldiers and warriors throughout time on the eve of a battle. But then, he had other reasons to be stressed, as well. He’d just escaped from months of captivity, had been shocked by their teletransport, or whatever it was, and learned his dead son was actually alive. His future was uncertain, to say the least.

I should let him sleep, get whatever rest he can. That thought was immediately followed by a memory of her father saying that the one word Norsemen hated most was “should,” as in people telling them what they should or should not do because, of course, that prompted them to do just the opposite.

I might not be a Viking man, but don’t tell me I should leave him be. A little exploration won’t hurt, she told herself.

She checked to make sure that Hauk still slept deeply, then ran a fingertip over the long white scar that ran from his collarbone, across his chest, then stopped at his opposite hip. She wanted to kiss the scar, and she would if there wasn’t a risk of Hauk waking and observing her emotional reaction to one of his wounds. He wouldn’t appreciate her response, she guessed, and would probably consider it pity. Typical man!

She released a sigh of relief when there was no change in his breathing. She was about to lie back down when she noticed that while he remained dead to the world, another part of his body was not. Even as she watched, his penis swelled and straightened. Her head swiveled quickly to the right and she saw him staring at her, wide awake, and grinning.

“Siren,” he said. “Do you deliberately tempt me?”

“Are you tempted?”

He arched his brows and inclined his head downward.

Yep, it…he was growing more tempted by the moment.

“I should let you rest.”

“Should? Do you know what Vikings think of that word?”

She laughed. “Actually, I do.”

“So, my siren wife,” he drawled, folding his arms behind his head, “what do you have in mind?”

“In mind?”

“Since you so rudely roused me from sleep?”

“Rudely?”

“Well, mayhap joyfully roused would be a better description.”

“Joyful huh?”

“That remains to be seen.”

She sat up, knelt, then swung a leg over his hips so that she sat astride his belly, his erection growing against her buttocks. Where this new lack of inhibition was coming from, she had no idea. Perhaps her inner Viking was emerging. “You were saying?”

“I’m getting more and more joyful by the moment,” he said in a sex-husky voice and lifted her by the hips, up high, and then onto his now fully erect penis. Slowly, very slooooowly, he eased her downward inch by inch until her pubic bone rested against his pubic bone, his golden curls mixing with her silver blonde ones.

After that, Kirstin showed Hauk a few things a woman could do while on top in what she told him was a reverse missionary position. Which he thought was hilarious…that missionaries in her time had favorite activities in the bedsport.

While Hauk claimed to enjoy all her efforts, he soon rolled her over, claiming he had a better idea.

So far, she was rather fond of his ideas…when it came to sex.