Page 50 of The Blue Viking

But that was just the beginning.

Next, he followed the same path, but this time with his tongue, even over her backside—wicked, wicked man! He must have sensed her distress over his tasting that part of her anatomy because he nipped with his teeth at the soft flesh there, before moving his tongue down her thighs. When he got to the bottoms of her feet and lapped at the ticklish arches, Maire closed her eyes tightly to fight the urge to squirm … or worse yet, giggle.

You’d think he would have been done by then. But, nay, he had barely started. Now he fashioned new paths of survey for his tempting fingers and slick tongue and his palms, which she’d discovered were tantalizingly callused, no doubt from weapon-wielding. Her underarms. The curve of her neck. The sides of her ribs and hips. The small of her back, which she discovered was sinfully susceptible to his expert caresses. When he tried to separate her thighs and stroke her in between, from behind, Maire could take no more. She rolled over on her back and wailed, “Enough!”

That was her biggest mistake thus far. She could tell even before he spoke, from the gleam in his mischievous eyes and the sensuous parting of his lips, that the rogue had her exactly where he wanted her.

“Nay, witchling, ’tis not nearly enough.” He arranged her suddenly boneless arms above her head in a posture that could only be described as wanton. Then he conceded, “ ’Tis a good beginning, though.”

Their eyes locked, and Marie was riveted in place by the message in his compelling blue eyes. She was not very experienced in bedplay, but she knew without a doubt that this man wanted her… badly. Why did he not just take her then? That was what Kenneth had done. None of this teasing aforehand. Usually, he’d been fortified with a goodly amount of uisge-beatha first, as if he could not bear to touch her unless he were intoxicated. Not that she had wanted his love-making … if it could be called that… especially after his true, vicious nature became apparent.

But Maire couldn’t think about that now. She had to concentrate on the present, lest the Viking catch her unawares … lest she do something she might later regret.

Rurik did not pounce on her, as she’d expected. No jamming apart of her legs and heavy weight pressing his staff into her tender parts for a quick one-two-three strokes before rolling over into a snoring slumber. Nay, Rurik did things his own way, in his own good time. She should have known.

Now that Maire was exposing new territory for Rurik’s exploration, he began another slow, leisurely investigation … first with his hot eyes, then his hands and mouth. The man knew things Maire had never dreamed of.

“Are all Vikings like you?” she blurted out once on a panting breath when he was touching her breasts … just the undersides, with the pads of his fingertips, when she yearned for something more, like the sharp suckling of his lips.

He glanced up at her through thick, sooty eyelashes … and winked. The rascal had the nerve to wink at her! “Nay, just me,” he said. “And just with you.”

“Liar.”

Eyebrows raised, he looked pointedly downward as if to prove that he told the truth, then renewed his “assault” on her. “Is this what you want, sweetling?” he murmured as he began to minister in depth to first one breast, then another. Had she spoken aloud? Did he know what she’d been thinking?

“Nay,” she said in a choked voice as her back bowed upward in response to the delicious agony caused by his playing with the areolas and nipples of her breasts. Tracing. Stroking. Fluttering. Squeezing.

“Who’s the liar now?” he asked, even as one hand cupped a breast from underneath and pressed upward, creating his very own pleasure mound … even as his moist lips closed around one taut nipple … even as he began to suck on her with a savage rhythm.

Maire cried out… she couldn’t help herself… and tried to shove him off. Without breaking his sucking cadence, Rurik took both her wrists in one hand and forced her arms back over her head. Each time he drew on her, Maire felt the ache in her breasts intensify, and there was an answering, building throb between her legs, which she held tightly together.

“Watch me,” he commanded.

Maire hadn’t even realized that she’d squeezed shut her eyes. For some reason, she didn’t balk, as she normally would have. Nay, she did as he’d ordered.

Then he did the same to her other breast… as she watched. His long hair was clubbed back with a leather thong into a queue at his neck, thus exposing his face for her scrutiny. As he suckled her breast, his cheeks moved in and out with the force of his efforts. Maire did not think there was a more erotic sight in all the world than a stunningly virile man, such as Rurik, paying homage to a woman’s breast.

“Did you like that?” he inquired silkily as he adjusted himself to lie atop her body.

She shook her head.

Which was apparently her second mistake of the day … or was it the third? She was in such a muddle she could scarce recall her own name at this point.

“Nay? You did not like that? Tsk-tsk! Well, I guess I will have to try harder.”

Maire groaned with dismay, but Rurik caught her groan in his open mouth, which was already moving over hers. One of his hands still held her wrists above her head, but the other hand cradled her jaw.

Oh, he was a good kisser. An exquisite kisser. Maire had to credit the Viking with that. She didn’t want to think about where he’d learned all those tricks with his lips and teeth and tongue. She was more concerned about how he made her feel. If she wasn’t careful, she would be having one of Rurik’s famous fits … over nothing more than kisses.

He was attacking her ear now, alternating puffs of breath with wet licks of his tongue. Somehow, her hands had come loose, for her arms were wrapped around his wide shoulders, caressing the ropey sinews of his back, and his hands were under her buttocks, lifting her up against his raging erection. Maire realized with astonishment that her legs had parted somewhere along the way, and her knees were cradling his hips.

Maire wanted Rurik inside her. She really did. A strange inner excitement rippled through her and centered in that place where he should surely already be by now.

“Now,” she pleaded, and arched her middle up off the mattress in encouragement.

Rurik’s head reared back suddenly and he stared at her, gasping, as if trying to swim out of a haze of confusion. She knew just how he felt. But he surprised her by declaring vehemently, “Nay!”

“Nay?” Here she was, as open to this man as any woman could be. The only thing missing was the welcome trumpet.