Page 109 of Viking Unchained

He groaned. “The lust sap is nigh dripping out my ears and every orifice of my body. I could not put two thoughts together if I tried.”

She smiled.

“Either tup me, or get up,” he demanded. When she hesitated, he took matters into his own hands.

Flipping her over, he spread her legs and entered her in one long thrust that about made his eyes roll back in his head, so good did it feel.

Lydia looked equally flummoxed.

He was past the point of finesse. “Forgive me, heartling, but I cannot wait.”

“Neither can I,” she whispered.

Unable to hold back, he pounded into her tight sheath. With long, slow thrusts, then short and hard, he tried to show his feelings for her. Over and over he brought her to the edge of peaking, then stopped. He leaned back and flicked her woman petals with their center bud. He plunged some more. He was as out of control as she was. In fact . . . he would not admit this to anyone . . . but his knees gave out, and it was Lydia who rode him to the end when she tossed back her head and screamed. The blood drained from his scalp. His arms and hands, even his feet, tingled. His heart thundered against his chest wall. And then . . . and then he lifted his buttocks high, taking Lydia with him to a peaking that went on nigh forever.

Afterward, her slick inner channels rippled around him in aftershock.

She lay splatted over him, her face buried in his neck. He was unable to move, at first. At last, he raised his head, saw that she was equally dazed, and raised his mouth to give her a quick kiss.

“This was not the way I planned this evening,” he told her.

“You planned . . . ? I was the one with a plan. I mean, I don’t understand.”

He rolled her over onto her back and stared down at her.

“Lydia, I spent the entire day preparing. I had my hair cut, my face shaved, and I let the barber put some of this flowery water on me. All for your benefit. I even bought new clothes . . . and other things.”

“I am totally confused,” she replied. “I thought you left. I heard the front door slam.”

“I just went outside to get something I left when I arrived earlier. Why did you flee from me, dearling?”

“Why? Why do you think, you jerk?” She shoved his chest and got up off the bed.

He laughed; he could not help himself. And stood also.

She growled and launched herself at him.

He picked her up off the ground, his arms around her waist, and hugged her tight to avoid her pounding fists.

“Lydia, I came here tonight with a purpose.”

“To tell me off about the video.” She was still trying to attack him with her hands and feet.

Despite their just having engaged in bedsport, he could feel his enthusiasm rising as she moved against him.

She stilled when she noticed.

“Sweetling, I came here tonight to tell you . . .” He gulped. “To tell you that I love you.”

She leaned her head back to stare at him. “Liar.”

He cupped her face with his hands. In a voice husky with emotion, he said, “I love you.”

“What?” Her eyes blinked at him in shock.

“That is what I would have told you if you had not fled.” Or I had gathered my courage.

“I gave you plenty of time to say . . . it.”