Page 58 of The Very Virile Viking

And she knew just what he wanted. But, golly, she would have thought that she would be the one in control when she'd ordered him not to touch her. Somehow she had quickly lost control. And now, when she'd reversed roles and taken him in hand, she was the one out of control again.

"I want you to be wanton, Angela," he pleaded hoarsely as he put his hands on her hips and showed her the movements he liked. "No inhibitions. Lose control… for me."

Is the man a mind reader, too?

But Angela soon lost the thread of that thought as her control melted like butter under a hot knife, and that hot knife was stabbing at her most erotic places with a delicious rhythm. She imagined that her eyes were rolling in their sockets like a pinball machine. When they came this time, powerful shudders shook them both and she lay collapsed across him like a rag doll.

It was more than sex, more than a physical act. In a way she could not explain, she felt as if some electrical current had zigzagged back and forth between them, burning and bonding them. Aftershocks shook them both.

And they hadn't even had intercourse.

Amazing!

Finally she raised herself up on her arms and stared down at him. He was as solemn and incredulous as

she was.

"What just happened here?" she asked.

He thought for a moment and then replied, "Destiny."

The morning after… sort of…

First thing the following morning, Angela was having second thoughts.

Who was that person who bared her body like a horny harlot?

What could I have been thinking?

When did I start engaging in stranger sex? Stranger in more ways than one…

Where can this relationship possibly go but nowhere?

Why has this one man become so important to me?

So what did Angela do about her misgivings?

She had almost-sex with Magnus midmorning against a tree in the empty west vineyard. She would never smell chardonnay grapes again without certain memories.

Then she repeated the almost-sex that afternoon on a picnic table in the orange grove.

That night, not to be outdone, she slipped into Magnus's third-floor shower with him—wearing panties, of course—after all the kids were asleep. Her knees could barely hold her upright by the time she crawled into her own bed. She was going to lay down the law… tomorrow.

Tomorrow, tomorrow… tomorrow is another… yeah, right, Annie!

Magnus was having second thoughts. Not just about the constant loveplay of the last twenty-four hours.

But about his own feelings.

He had told the witch that he loved her. By thunder ! Magnus racked his brain and could not recall ever having told a woman that before. Had she put a spell on him?

As to all the "fooling around," as Angela called it, he had to ask himself certain questions.

Who is she?

What am I doing, tempting myself so dangerously?

When will this sexual yearning end?