Page 98 of The Bewitched Viking

“I did not swive you,” she asserted indignantly. “You swived me.”

That answer seemed to please him.

“Well, move. Now that you’ve had your pleasure, I might as well go make soap.”

“Dream another dream, witchling. You are not leaving this chamber lest I give you permission. And I can assure you that will not be for a long time yet.”

She closed her eyes for a brief instant, praying for strength. Would she be able to withstand this rogue’s allure if he “assaulted” her again?

“Thank you,” he whispered huskily, running the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip.

“For what?” The sly dog is up to some new trick.

“For giving me more pleasure than I have ever received in the coupling.” He brushed his lips lightly across hers. She felt the kiss all the way to her toes, and that mortifyingly wet place in between.

“You probably say that to all women.”

He playfully finger-walked a trail from the side of her hip to the side of one breast. “Nay, I’ve never said it afore.” His attention was focused more on the breast he was studying as he pushed it up from the underside, then fitted it perfectly in the palm of his big hand. “Have I told you how much I like your nipples?”

“About two dozen times. Stop touching them.” She slapped his hand away.

“You could touch mine,” he offered magnanimously.

She had to laugh at his false generosity. But then she wondered aloud, “Does it feel…uh, the same, when a man’s nipples are touched as a woman’s?” Her face flamed hotly at asking such an intimate question.

“Good, you mean?”

“Never mind,” she said.

“Try and see,” he urged, taking one of her hands and placing it over his chest.

When she grazed her fingertips over the flat male nipples, she felt that part of him still inside her jump.

“More,” he coaxed.

She experimented with different touches on him. He seemed to like them all, especially when she flicked the nubs with a fingernail. The evidence of her success burgeoned to life again inside her. The final proof was when she leaned down and licked one nipple before suckling it wetly. He let loose with a moany exhalation and rolled onto his back, taking her with him. To her surprise, she found herself astraddle the man, impaled.

“Oh, my!” she gasped.

“Oh, my!” he echoed.

I am sitting bare-naked, skewered on a Viking manpart, she thought. Then she smiled. “Did you think up this trick yourself? Or do all men know about this?”

“I’m the only one.” He winked at her then.

“Don’t think that because I’m letting you do these things to me that I like you,” she declared, wanting to establish some pride in this unprideful situation she found herself in.

“Letting?” But then he told her, “I don’t much like you, either, Alinor.”

“But I do like your lovemaking,” she admitted.

“That’s good enough for me,” he said with a grin. “By the by, can you ride, my lady?”

“Horses?”

“Nay. Vikings.”

It turned out, she could.