The Pirate Bride (16 page)

“Nay, they did not. Crazy in love, they claimed to be, and still are. Really, you would be embarrassed to be around them, Medana. Even at their advanced ages, they are always touching and kissing and saying the most outrageous intimate things to each other, in front of one and all.”

“I think that’s rather nice.”

“Pfff!”

They had arrived back at the small clearing and she stood staring at him. She’d lost him his bride. She did not like feeling guilty over yet another thing because of her actions, or those of her women. “Mayhap I could go to her father in Hedeby and explain the circumstances, or I could write another letter to your father, this time explaining that none of this was your fault.”

“Don’t you dare!” He swatted her on her bottom with an open palm. “Enough of your meddling, wench! Help me stretch out this blanket so that we can break our fast. I have not eaten at all since last night, and I am very hungry.” The look he gave her then was one of hunger, all right, but not necessarily for food.

After they spread out the blanket, having to kick aside some stones that would be lumpy or even sharp underneath, she unloaded the vast amount of food he’d brought . . . slices of ham and bread; some hard-cooked eggs; skyrr, the soft cheese favored by Vikings; a bunch of grapes; and two peaches.

Thork undid the bung on a large skin of some beverage that he held to his mouth and drank deeply. Surely not “Adam’s ale” or water. More likely real ale or mead. “Mmmm. Good!” He handed it to her then and said, “Drink. You may need this.”

She didn’t like the gleam in his eyes as he extended the bag to her. Still, she was thirsty after that long trek up the mountain. She took a drink, then exclaimed, “Wine! This is the prized Frisian wine I was saving for a special occasion, and you were chugging it down like water. ’Tis meant to be sipped.”

“I consider this a special occasion.” He motioned with his hand for her to drink more as he folded himself down onto the blanket and began to open the packets of cheese and bread.

She took another sip. It was delicious, of course, but it should be, considering its cost. Actually, it hadn’t cost them anything, other than the effort in pirating a wealthy merchant’s estate in the Irish lands last year.

“More,” he insisted, taking a big bite out of a slice of ham. “I mean it, Medana, drink or I will pour it down your throat.”

Swearing silently, she took several big swallows before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, then setting the leather bag carefully onto the edge of the blanket. After sitting down herself and tucking her legs sideways with the
gunna
covering her completely, she nibbled on a piece of manchet smeared with skyrr. “Why is it so important to you that I get
drukkinn
?”

“Not
drukkinn
. Nay, that would not be good. But relaxed, that is what you need.”

She declined to ask him why, fearing what he would answer.

But he told her, anyway. “Wine is a thigh spreader for many women.”

She gasped. “What an obnoxious thing to say!”

He shrugged. “A man uses all the tools at his disposal. If I had the case of feathers my father gifted me, I would employ those.”

She definitely was not going to ask about that.

But all this nonsense was beside the point. Medana was never one to avoid unpleasantness, and it was past time she got the rogue to discuss his plans for Thrudr. “We should probably settle several matters afore we do this . . . uh, thing.”

He extended the wine bag. She drank again and handed it back to him. She noticed he was taking only one drink for every two of hers. And while he’d initially taken a long draw on the bag, he was only sipping now.

“This . . . uh, thing . . . will happen regardless. Why spoil the day with useless chatter?”

Rude oaf!
“I do not consider the fate of our longship useless chatter.”

“Are you done eating?” he asked.

Definitely rude!
“I suppose.”

He yanked the remaining bread and ham from her hand and began to tuck everything away in the cloth bag. Gulping, she took a long swig from the wine bag, without being ordered to do so. Best she be careful or she would be too weak to even stand, let alone do whatever he intended for her.

He did not even glance her way when he said, “Stand and take off your
gunna
.”

“
What?
” Her eyes darted here and there. The sun was so bright. He could not really expect . . .

“Or mayhap you need more wine,” he suggested.

“I have had more than enough wine. My brain feels fuzzy as it is.”

“Fuzzy is good.” He leaned back on his elbows. “Come now, Medana. Show me what I have bartered for in this negotiation.”

“Can’t we wait until it’s dark?”
Or never?

“Would you rather I undress you?”

“Nay!” He would probably touch her in inappropriate places in the process. She stood, shakily at first, and fiddled with the twisted rope belt at her waist. “Shouldn’t you undress, too?”

“You first.”

“I do not see why we have to undress at all,” she grumbled.

“Oh, Medana, you have so much to learn. And here is some good news. I am an excellent teacher.”

Dropping the belt to the ground, she toed off each of her leather slip shoes and with a sigh of resignation, lifted the
gunna
by the hem up and over her head. She would not look at him as she stood in her chemise, nigh transparent from so many washings.

When he was silent for too long, she glanced his way and saw that he was sitting now, alert as a dog on scent. His eyelids were half mast, his cheeks flushed, and his lips parted. She might not be experienced in the sex arts, but she recognized the expression on his face. It was pure lust. “Undo your braid and finger comb your hair out, over your shoulders,” he said in a voice raw with male lust.

She did as he’d asked and noted the way his nostrils flared and his hands fisted as he tried to contain his passions. But the one-sidedness of her standing almost nude with him lying there totally clothed struck her as an act of humiliation, and, although she did naught to shield her intimate body parts, tears welled in her eyes.

He was on his feet immediately. Standing before her, he tipped her chin up and asked, “What is amiss?”

Is he dense?
“Everything, you big nasty troll! You seek to prolong my agony by mortifying me.”

“I do not!”

“Why am I naked and you are not? To take away all my pride, that is why. There is inequality in our positions.”

“If that is the problem, I can resolve it faster than you can blink.” He unclothed himself with such speed she knew he’d done it many times before. But now, because of her complaint, she was faced with a nude—and very aroused—Thork. “Now we are unequal but in the opposite way. You are clothed and I am not.”

“Hah! I do not call this being clothed.” She glanced at him and saw that he’d been teasing.

“Another problem easily solved,” he said, and drew the chemise up and over her head.

Medana looked at his face. She dared not look lower, not at his body or her own.

“Why did you feel humiliated to stand before me almost nude? Did you not know that I was admiring your body? Sex engages all the senses: touch, taste, smell, hearing,
and
sight.”

Medana couldn’t begin to imagine what he meant by that. Really, from her own limited experience, and from what she’d heard her women say, sex was not a long, drawn-out affair. Yea, some men bothered with a little kissing or fondling, and some women did appear to enjoy the coupling, but in the end it was just a bodily function.

She drew herself up straight on a deep inhale and asked him, “What do you want from me, Thork?”

He gazed at her, let his eyes drift over her body, from her mouth to her curling toes, then held eye contact with her before saying, “Everything.”

And, gods help her, in that moment, Medana wanted that, too.

Chapter Fifteen

She was a scream . . .

M
edana, the female pirate, was, in fact, a goddess.

To Thork, leastways.

Tall, slim, with a narrow waist flaring out to womanly hips. Above and below, light blonde curls sparkled in the sun. Her breasts were perfect half globes of polished ivory with pale rose centers. Her incredible violet eyes fringed with thick, darker blonde lashes only added to her allure. And, damn his twisted soul, but he admired her stubborn hands-on-hips, legs-spread battle stance, too.

“Can I look at you?” he asked.

“You are already looking.”

“More. I want to examine all of you.”

“And if I say you nay?”

“I will just sneak peeks when you are not looking.”

“Odious oaf!”

“Willful wench!”

“Randy rogue!”

“Delicious delight!”

Her eyes shot up to catch his gaze, and her lips trembled slightly with uncertainty. She had no conception of her own comeliness, he knew that. By the time he was done with her, though, she would know. That, he promised himself.

“Cunning charmer!” she tossed out belatedly.

He laughed. “Aren’t you going to call me a loathsome lout?”

“Not if I have to bite my tongue bloody!”

He moved around her body, studying her, head to toe, then a return journey. He didn’t touch her at all. Just gazed with appreciation at all her “delights.” To his amazement, she did in fact have scars across her back. From her brothers’ lashes? He couldn’t dwell on that now, but, for a certainty, there were three Viking cowards who would sample the flavor of his wrath when he caught up with them.

For now, he moved his scrutiny of Medana lower, and, blessed Valkyries, even the backs of her knees were pretty. And the dimples on each side of her buttocks? Oh, he intended to kiss each of them. As soon as possible.

“What are you doing back there?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Admiring your arse.”

“You never were!” She swiveled around and was about to pummel his chest at what she thought was mockery.

“I was, I was,” he said, grabbing her by the waist, then lifting her higher by putting his hands under both buttocks.

Instinctively, she raised her knees and wrapped her legs about his hips.

Gods bless instincts!
He swung her around in a circle several times, joyfully. Then he lowered himself down to the blanket, resting on his knees, taking her with him, under him. Thanks be for strong knees! When she lay back, glaring up at him, her legs were splayed on either side of his knees, which he widened even more.

“Ah, Medana, I am going to enjoy playing with your body.”

“My goal in life: to be a man’s play toy.”

He chucked her lightly under the chin for her sarcasm. “And my goal today will be to bring you joy in the love play, too.”

“Why would you care one way or the other?”

“You are so green in many ways. Do you not know that a woman’s joy is a man’s pleasure?”

“You made that up just now,” she accused him.

He shook his head. “Nay, ’tis a well-known fact.”

“Well, ’tis one many men have not yet learned if what my women relate is true.”

“That I concede. But you are not to fear. I am an expert in these matters.”

“Praise be to Asgard!”

“Be careful, m’lady, or I may have to punish you for your continuing sarcasm.”

She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it firmly, deciding for once that silence might be the better path to follow. Wise woman!

He sat back on his knees and studied what he could see of her body. “I did not give your breasts near enough attention last night. Methinks that would be a good place to start.”

“To st-start?” she sputtered.

“Some men have a preference for big breasts, but—”

“Mine are certainly not udders.”

He smiled. “Is it not fortunate that I am not an udder man?”

Whatever she was about to reply to that got frozen on her tongue as he began to fondle her breasts. Lifting them. Massaging them with wide circles of his palms. Tweaking the nipples ’til their hue changed from dusky rose to pale red. “Do you like this kind of love play?” he asked her.

She refused to answer.

So he leaned down and began to suckle one nipple, while flicking the other with a middle finger.

A little yelp of surprise escaped her lips, and she stiffened as if bracing against the passions he was clearly igniting in her. When he changed breasts and had both nipples equally stiff and her back was arched up for more, he asked again, “Do you like this kind of love play?”

“Yea, I do, damn your hide. If you stop, I might have to scratch out your pretty eyes.”

“You like my eyes?” he murmured just before taking almost all of one breast into his mouth, then drawing back slowly until he released the nipple with a wet pop.

“Of course I like your eyes. Every woman who sees you does, and you know it, too.”

He did know that women liked his eyes, but for some reason her liking his eyes pleased him immensely. “What other body parts of mine do you like?”

“As if I would tell you! Your conceit needs no more puffing up. Yikes! Now what are you doing?”

“Licking your belly.”

“Why?”

“Why, why, why? Have I mentioned my Aunt Eadyth’s irksome parrot? Reminds me of you. Does there have to be a reason for everything? Just lie back and enjoy.”

“I hardly think that I would enjoy—”

“Shhh! Oh, look what I found here. A thatch of spun gold. I wonder what secrets I will find underneath.” He inserted a finger between her folds and stroked until she dewed against him. “Just as I thought. Honey.”

She whimpered. “Would it do any good to tell you what a perverted man you are?”

“Only if you mean it in a good way.” He continued stroking her and told her, “You are wet for me, sweetling.”

“It’s probably all the wine you forced on me, leaking out.”

He choked back a laugh. “Nay, ’tis not wine, though I warrant your woman-dew is just as sweet.”

Her eyes, which she’d had scrunched tightly closed, shot open. “You would not dare to taste me
there
.”

“Actually, I would dare, but not just yet. I do not want to shock you too much too soon. But if you keep on questioning every little thing I do, I might need to do something drastic to still your flapping tongue.”

She muttered something about his being the flapping tongue, but then she closed her mouth and eyes. You’d think she was going to the gallows.

Using his knees, he spread her wider and gazed down at that mysterious place women held so private. Lovely, it was, in an earthy sort of way. Like the petals of a flower carrying the glisten of raindrops. When he studied her enough with his eyes, he studied her with his fingertips. Stroking. Flicking. Inserting. Always avoiding the one spot that would surely bring her to the brink of peaking. As the bud unfurled, her thighs tightened and several times she bucked up reflexively before she caught herself. She was biting her bottom lip to keep from crying out.

“If you could see yourself here the way I do, Medana,” he said in a voice raw with his own arousal, “you would know what power women hold over men.”

She made a gurgling sound of protest.

“I wonder, Medana, if I could turn that little whimper you just made into a scream. Of sex joy.” He used his elongated cock then to touch the nubbin of pleasure at the top of her cleft.

She flinched and tried to escape him by shuffling her bottom upward on the blanket.

But he would have none of that. Placing one hand firmly on her belly, he gripped his cock with the other and used it to strum the unfurling bud like a musician plucking a stringed instrument.

Involuntary tremors shook her body, and disjointed words pleaded for relief. She did scream then, a long wail of intense pleasure, as her hips rose, wanting more and more of what he was giving her.

Her peaking died down, and his senses became heightened as desire licked through his body to the point of pain. He could not hold himself off anymore. Caught in the throes of a driving need, he thrust himself inside her tight sheath. Then, bracing himself on his straightened arms, he waited for her to realize what he had done. And tried to curtail his own fast-approaching peak, especially when her molten folds shifted to accommodate his size.

When she came back to her senses, he asked, “Are you all right? Am I hurting you?”
Remarkable that I can put two words together!

She only then appeared to realize that he had impaled her and was seated inside her body almost to her womb. “Oh. Oh!” She wriggled a little from side to side, then told him, “Nay, it does not hurt. Precisely. But . . .”

“But what?”

“There is a lot of you.”

“Thank you.”
Now, wiggle your arse again, sweetling. Yea, juuust like that.

“I did not mean it as a compliment,” she gasped out.

“Believe me, that was a compliment.”

“Whew! How did you squeeze it all in without me noticing?”

Holy Thor! I’ve got a talker here. Some women moan excessively during sex, some even scream. Medana is clearly a nervous talker. Ah well, she is new to bedsport. I should be patient.
“The slickness of your excitement eased the way. Woman-dew, it is called.”

“You mean, the honey business.”

He laughed.
Chatter, chatter, chatter.

“Do that again.”

“What?”

“Laugh. When you laugh, your dangly part shakes inside me.”

On the other hand, there is much to be said about a talkative woman.
“Uh, just so you know, my dangly part is no longer dangly.”

“I know. Dost consider me a total lackbrain?”

Is that a serious question?
“Can I move now?”

“What? I thought we were done.”

Did someone mention lackbrain?
“My dear naïve pirate miss. We have just begun.” He withdrew almost totally, then slammed back in to the hilt so that his nether hairs blended with her nether hairs. Looking down, he fancied it resembled woven threads of two shades of gold. In fact, he moved slightly from side to side to blend the threads more.

She jerked. Apparently, that movement must have brushed her sweet bud. And then she screamed.

And it was a good scream, too.

There was no time to ponder any more as he began the serious business of swiving, and, yea, he took his swiving seriously. What Viking man worth his reputation did not?

He rocked her gently at first with long slow strokes ’til she made small mewling sounds of pleasure, but then not so gently and not so slow. Her mewls became cries. Sometimes when he was buried in her hot depths, he gripped the cheeks of her arse and rotated his hips so that the bone above his cock ground against the pearl of her arousal. That trick caused her inner muscles to ripple around his staff.

The sound of wetness, moist flesh smacking against moist flesh, was carnal music to his ears. Thork’s blood thickened with enthusiasm, and his heart hammered against his rib cage. He was catapulting fast toward his own peaking, but he wanted her to come to a second bliss, if possible.

By the time her stretched inner muscles began to clutch and unclutch his now massive cock, his nerves were inflamed with the need to let loose his self-control. He glanced down at her and saw her eyes dilated to a full dark violet color. Something intense flared between them then, especially when she reached up and fingered the edges of his jaw and parted lips. How could she be gentle when he felt so fierce?

“I. Cannot. Wait,” he roared out as he withdrew and spilled his seed upon the blanket between her thighs.

Afterward, he lay atop her, trying to calm his panting breaths.

To his surprise, Medana was caressing his back and shoulders and upper arms. When he raised himself on levered arms to stare down at her, he saw the glow of wonder on her face. “That was amazing. Can all men do that?”

He wasn’t exactly sure what she meant. Probably the bringing of a woman to peak in the bedplay. He did not like her inferring that she might test his skills by bedding other men. With a surge of possessiveness he would no doubt regret later, he replied. “Only me.”

Standing, he took her hand and yanked her to her feet. “I need to flip this blanket lest we end up lying on the damp spot.”

Color heightened her cheeks when she realized what he referred to. Still, she managed to overcome her shyness enough to ask, “Do you get . . . uh, satisfied by doing it that way?”

“Satisfied, yea, I do, but would it be better if I stayed the course, inside? Of course it would.”

“Well, I appreciate your not planting your seed in me.”

She was pulling the chemise over her neck and shoulder. He could have told her that he would be removing it again shortly but decided that some words were best unspoken.

“Don’t you want children, ever, Medana?”

“I gave up those kinds of dreams a long time ago. Yea, I know that I could do it like some of the other women have, alone, but I would prefer, if I ever bear babies, to have them in a home with a husband.”

“A rather traditional view from a nontraditional female pirate,” he remarked.