The Viking's Captive(34)
“The food is ready.” Duna placed Misty down beside a bowl of buttermilk. “I used some of the horseradish we collected this morning.”
“Ah, good.” He set his drink aside and inhaled deep as she set a huge earthenware bowl of steaming broth before him. “You cook well when you’re not burning food.”
“It’s easy to cook well when there are plenty of ingredients.”
He nodded at the empty chair. “Sit. Eat. I wish you to put meat on your bones. You need your strength for working around here, especially when winter comes.”
“Yes, Master.” She filled herself a bowl and sat opposite him. “If that’s what you wish.”
“It is. And you will do as I wish, Duna. You know that?”
“I know that if I don’t my behind will be turned red.”
“Is it still red?”
“I haven’t looked. But I shouldn’t think so not after this long.”
He raised his eyebrows at her. “I may look, after this food.”
“That will not be necessary.” She frowned. “I have not been disobedient, so why should I have my rear exposed?”
“Because you are mine, thrall, and if I wish to look at your behind and judge if it still holds the color of berries, I will.”
She squirmed a little, then slurped her broth.
He knew he’d irked her. Having taken her punishment well, including the heat of ginger, she didn’t want to discuss it or be reminded of it.
But the truth was he’d quickly become fond of her buttocks, and the way she pinked up, squealed and gasped as he spanked her. Trouble was she’d been on such good behavior helping around the longhouse he’d had no reason to enjoy her ass.
Odin, help me find strength.
His cock was stiffening.
If he hadn’t made a decision as a young man to only ever be with willing women, he’d finish his food and take her sweet little cunny as his own. He’d sink deep on the first plunge, relish the way her body opened for his. He’d pound hard and find his pleasure, each gasp and cry she made would spur him on. And he’d be sure she found release too; he wasn’t a selfish lover.
He watched her eating, the firelight licking over her delicate features and creating shadows on her cheeks. Had she ever found release, even at her own hand? He suspected she was inexperienced with men, judging by her reaction to seeing him naked in the bathtub, but that may mean she had only been with men of her own small size. The locals on her island had certainly not been a big breed of males.
She’d also appeared shocked when he’d laved his tongue over her nipples and touched the sweet spot at the front of her cunny. But that could have merely been shock that he, her Viking master, was beginning to claim her body. Not that she’d never been pleasured or caressed by a male.
Continuing to eat, and enjoying the heat of the horseradish coating his tongue, he wondered about the noises she’d make as she hit the climax of coupling. Would she sound the same as during a spanking, all breathy and pleading, or would she pant and gasp for more? He’d been with both sorts of women, long ago, but that kind of thing stayed in the memory.
He found himself hoping she’d gasp, and cling to him with all of her limbs. Be enthused, want his cock deep and deeper still and give herself up to his kisses.
Thinking about kissing her drew his attention to her sweet mouth. He adored it when she smiled, which she’d done several times, if not at the moment. Would she allow him to kiss her? When she was in a better mood? Or would she slap his face for attempting? He’d thought about it when lifting her down from the wagon, but then Asmund had interrupted his plan.
She finished and stood. “I will clean these in the stream morrow.”
“You will, slave.”
What was he doing? Sitting there thinking about kissing his thrall. That wasn’t how their relationship was. He had to be a strong, stern master. Take her in hand. He reminded himself of her wild side, the defiant nature he’d borne witness to on the island beach and on the longboat. Again he thought of the feral cats at the port. Just when you thought you’d gained one’s trust, it would hiss and scratch and there would be nothing but hate in its eyes.
“I’m going to bed, Master,” she said, reaching for Misty. “The day has been long.”
“Sleep well. There is much for you to do. It is high time to get seeds planted.”
*
Duna didn’t reply. All his talk of inspecting her rear had irked her. But what was worse than that was she’d found it strangely arousing.
As she’d eaten her broth, she thought of him bending her over the table, hoisting up her clothing, and drawing down her undergarments. Her naked rump would be there for him to gawp at, and stroke, and judge.
Her internal muscles had clenched and a warmth, almost a dampness, had collected between her legs. That annoyed her too, and she frowned, not wanting to react to Halvor’s possession of her buttocks or her asshole.
What does this mean about me?
Yawning, she stepped past him and settled on the bed she preferred to use, the furthest from his.
After slipping beneath the blanket, her kitten cuddled close, she sighed, then closed her eyes. It had been a long day, a pleasant one, mostly. Also it had held revelations. The elk were much bigger than she’d ever have imagined, Nadir was nice, almost friend material, she’d held silk and discovered that a reverend who believed in her God lived within these fair hills.