Page 74 of Viking in Love

She moved to the other side.

He moved again, and took the ink pot off the table, setting it on a shelf. That is all he would need, to return to the shire court covered in ink.

She feinted right, then left.

Hah! He was an expert swordsman. He could parry any move she made. But then he tired of the game and lunged over the table, taking her with him, up against the wall.

“Ooomph! You big oaf! You knocked the wind out of me.”

“I intend to knock more than wind out of you afore I am done.” While she had been talking, he was busy unlacing the neckline of her gown. He shrugged the gown and its sleeveless surcoat off her shoulders and down to her elbows, thus confining her arms at her side.

“You brute! ’Tis daylight and there are folks about, waiting for your return.”

He was nibbling a line along her jaw, from ear to chin, and up the other side. “They can wait. As for daylight, take another hour off the tail end of our bargain.”

“An hour!” she squealed, whether at the amount of time, or the fact he was rubbing his rock-hard cock against her cleft. If not for her gown and his breeches, he would be swiving her by now. But then he noticed her breasts. “Breanne! What is this grease?”

A blush started on her face and moved downward over her neck and chest and, yea, said breasts. “’Tis an ointment for soothing raw skin.”

“I hurt you?” He used his fingertips to rub the ointment into the skin, everywhere except the rosy nipples.

She moaned.

“That hurts, too?”

“It hurts good.”

He smiled. “I know what you mean. I hurt good, too, but my hurt is down lower.” He tugged her sleeves down and off so that her arms were free. Then, taking her hand, he encouraged her to explore his “hurt.” When she obliged, using the movement he had taught her, he closed his eyes, lest she see that they were crossed. He closed his mouth as well, lest he yell out his pleasure.

Even though she had been a virgin just days ago, she was a bold and brazen lover. A prize any man would cherish. Not that he cherished her, precisely. Nay, but he did appreciate her.

“This is impossible, you know.”

His eyes shot open. “Why?”

“There is no bed, and it is daylight, and—”

He laughed. Bold and brazen, she may be, but she was still innocent in so many ways. “Lift your gown up to your waist.”

“Wha—”

He was already doing it for her. When she was bare to the waist, and he had unlaced and dropped his breeches, he instructed, “Put your arms around my shoulders.” Then he lifted her by the buttocks and showed her how to lock her legs behind his waist.

“Oh.” That was all she said, but it was enough.

In one fell swoop, without foresport or even a kiss, he entered her. And she was ready for him, thank the saints!

“Gaaaaaaaaa!” Breanne looked stunned, even as her inner muscles gave him welcome with throbbing, repetitive clasps. “What you do to me, knave!”

“You do not like it?”

She slapped him playfully on the chest. “You know I do.” Then she leaned her face down toward him and licked a line around the edges of his lips.

“Witch!” he choked out. “You ensorcell me, I swear you do.”

Her first peaking was about to hit, as evidenced by her eyes glazing over. She made little panting sounds of escalating passion.

“I never knew. I. Never. Knew.”