Page 79 of The Blue Viking

He was smiling. The lout! “And that would be?”

“The fact that you’re not moving.” She tried to squirm in place but he would not allow even that small motion. “Move, damn you, move!”

“Not yet,” he replied.

Is he trying to punish me? She eyed him suspiciously, then entreated, “Make love to me, Rurik.”

He held her eyes and answered, “Convince me.”

Aye, it’s punishment he’s after. But no rack or whipping post for this rogue. Nay, he has a more devious torture in mind. “I am not experienced in the love arts … you know that. How would I convince you?”

“Use your imagination.” He let go of her hips and leaned back on his elbows. The brute was going to make her initiate all the moves, when she didn’t even know what the moves were.

“Rurik, we don’t have much time.”

He shrugged. “Then you’d best think quick.”

She tried clenching her inner muscles again, and holding them taut. That was an exercise he’d seemed to like before.

Rurik bit his bottom lip as if stifling a cry.

Aha! A small victory, I spy. She repeated the maneuver, this time engaging a rhythmic hold-release, hold-release pattern. “How was that?” she asked.

“A start,” he choked out.

A start? Just a start? Hah! I’ll show you, Viking. She spread her legs wider and glanced down to where black curls blended with red, both glistening with her woman dew. When she looked back up, she saw that Rurik had been staring at the same spot… and he liked what he saw … oh, yes, he did! His face might remain impassive, but a part of him he could not control flexed and swelled, filling her even more.

Even so, the man still did nothing to initiate the undulations that her body craved. What could she do that would knock the complacency out of him?

Her gaze fixed on the chain shirt that came to a vee in the front under his tunic. Some soldiers pulled the mail all the way down and between the legs, with padding underneath, to protect the genitals. His lay open. That gave her an idea… a wicked idea.

Did she dare?

Did she dare not?

She pulled back slightly so that Rurik was still embedded in her but the base of his staff was exposed. Then she spread her legs even wider so that nub of woman pleasure Rurik had introduced her to was clearly visible to him.

She was too embarrassed to let her gaze connect with his. She thought she heard a hitch in Rurik’s breathing, though, which she took for a good sign.

Then, garnering every bit of nerve she had, Maire took the flexible mail by its pointed front tail and ever so lightly stroked the base of Rurik’s column, back and forth, side to side.

“For the love of Frigg!” Rurik roared.

There was no doubt in Maire’s mind now. She was on the right route. Still, she asked, pretending uncertainty, “Dost want me to stop?”

“Bloody damn … bloody damn … whffffffff.”

“Oh,” she said coyly, stroking him again with the cool metal. “Does that mean you like it?”

“Yea, I like it.”

“How much?” she teased with the metal poised a hairbreadth away.

“Immensely.”

“I wonder if you would like it more or less if I did the same with my tongue.”

He let loose with a strangled laugh. “Unless you are as double-jointed as Ivar the Boneless was said to be, I would say that is an impossibility in your present position. Perchance you could save that sex feat for another time.”