Page 108 of Viking Unchained

“For now. I have discovered that such jewelry is considered portable wealth. The one ring brought half a million of your American paper.”

She was shocked. “Dollars?”

“Yea, dollars. Torolf helped me place it in a bank for safekeeping, though I would have much preferred keeping it on my body.”

“Not that much money, honey.”

“I like it when you call me honey. Even more, I like it when you move and your breasts caress my chest.”

She raised herself slightly, arms now braced on either side of his head like a push-me-up, then swayed her breasts back and forth across his chest. She did it to tease him, but he could see that she was the one most excited by the friction. Her nipples were engorged already, and every sweep across the coarse chest hairs caused straight-to-the groin erotic flames in his manpart. She moved her nether hair against his belly, and he could feel the warm wetness pooling there already.

“I should not be doing this.”

“Yea, you should, my sweet.”

“I don’t understand. Just a short time ago you—”

“Nay, not now. The time for words will come later.”

She nodded.

He watched her every reaction now. In a raw male voice, he urged, “Bring your breasts up to my mouth, sweetling.”

She did. First one breast and then the other he paid homage with wet licks, hot breaths, flicks of his tongue, then deep suckling, which caused her back to arch and him to take more of her. She was keening her pleasure and reflexively undulating her hips against him. Not surprisingly, she shattered into a climax.

But he wanted to be inside her.

But wait. I’m getting ahead of my plan. “Move up farther. Methinks you are in need of laving. Bring your woman parts where I can minister to them.”

“Did you say loving?”

“Nay. Laving.”

She was disappointed, he could tell. “No.”

“Dost say me nay? You get my longboat ready for voyage, then expect me to pull in the oars at the last second?”

“I want to know what the hell is going on here.”

“We are making love.”

“You know what I mean. Talk, buster. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Talk? Do not be daft. You wet my belly with your woman dew, nigh scalding me, then expect me to lie still and talk?”

“Yes.”

He groaned.

She sat up on his waist and he tried to ignore the thrumming between his legs.

“Why do you torture yourself, sweetling?”

“You’re the one torturing me with your roller-coaster moods. First you want me. Then you don’t.”

“Wrong, wrong, wrong. I have never stopped wanting you. Lydia! Please, for the love of all the gods, stop talking. Just sit on my cock and end this madness.” He bucked his body, trying to move her downward.

She held herself in place, squeezing her knees tighter. “Not ’til we’re done talking.”