The Viking's Captive(45)
Quickly she lathered her hair, rinsed it, then washed her body. Stepping out, she dried before the fire and put on clean clothes.
Halvor returned as she finished pulling the kinks and knots from her hair.
“The meal is ready,” she said. “Are you hungry, Master?”
“Yes, very.” He sat at the table, his hands in fists and his chin tilted upward. His jaw was set like iron.
She studied him. “Is everything in order?”
“Yes.”
“Raven is well?”
“He is himself again.”
“Good.”
So why didn’t Halvor sound as if everything was in order?
“Master,” she said, winding her hands together. “Have I disobeyed you? I don’t think that I have, but—”
He stood suddenly, tipping the chair backward to land with a clatter. “No, you have not.”
In three paces he was before her, close, really close.
His expression was indiscernible. She retreated until her shoulders hit the wall behind her.
“Duna.” He frowned as he followed her. “Do not fear me.”
“I don’t.”
He placed his hands on the wall, palms flat. Her mind flashed back to the time he’d done that before, the night he’d taken her.
But now she didn’t look up at him with hate in her heart, or with terror ruling her thoughts. Now she looked at her warrior and knew he cared for her, admired her… respected her.
She reached up and touched his face, tracing her fingertips over his ink. “How could I fear you? You have saved me… from so much.”
“I only want your happiness, Duna. I only want you with me, safe and well.”
“And that’s how it is.”
“You are happy?”
She hesitated. “I think so.”
“You believed you never would be, as my thrall.”
“But you are a good master. You have a good home.”
He lowered his head again, the way he’d done outside.
She stared up at him, he filled her vision. Her heart was thudding. Only he existed in her world. “Halvor.”
“Duna.”
He pressed his lips to hers.
She gasped, the sensation of his warm, soft flesh on hers unexpected, then she returned his kiss.
He tasted of the outdoors, of ale, and of something she’d never experienced before… man.
The kiss deepened. He slipped his tongue into her mouth and stroked it over hers.
Her entire body tensed. A strange heat pooled in her belly and slid between her legs. Her nipples tightened, and she longed to squeeze them the way she sometimes did.
Or even better, have Halvor squeeze them.
He ran his hands over her cheeks, the column of her neck, and onto her chest. Still their tongues touched and danced.
She whimpered into his mouth as he cupped her breasts.
He was kissing her as if he’d never stop.
Reaching out, she gripped his tunic again, pulled herself closer to him.
Will I ever get close enough?
He groaned and massaged her breasts. “I want you, Duna, as a woman, not a thrall.”
She didn’t answer, she couldn’t because in that moment, he’d slipped his fingers into the neckline of her dress and tugged, hard.
She jolted forward as the material ripped, exposing her chest.
“Halvor!”
“I will buy you new clothes.” He stared down at her. His lips were damp from the kiss, he was breathing fast.
Suddenly he stooped and caught her right nipple in his mouth. He sucked it then gently nipped it between his teeth.
Duna let out a gasp, which turned into a groan. What he was doing was shocking yet delightful. Running her hands into his hair, marveling at the thick strands, she arched her back, wanting to give him more. Wanting him to give her more.
He switched to her opposite breast, treating it to the same attention.
She trembled and pressed her legs together. Dampness was growing again.
He pulled back, clasped her dress once again and pulled. It tore further, right down to her undergarments.
She staggered a little but he caught her.
“I will make you mine. I will fill you with my seed.”
Of course. He wants what all men want.
But she didn’t mind, she wanted that too.
He lifted her into his arms and made for the bed. “You will no longer sleep over there, now you will sleep with me.”
“But…”
We are not married.
Her mind was at war with her body. She knew God would not approve. And her mother had told herself to wait until marriage before she went to a man’s bed.
“Halvor,” she said, shoving at him and kicking her legs.
“This is going to happen, Duna, do not fight it.”
“It cannot.”
“It can.”
“But… but we are unwed.”
He stopped and stared down at her. “That does not matter.”
“It does.” She banged his chest and struggled within his grip. “My God says a man and a woman should be married before they share a bed.” She paused and stared into his eyes. “And I promised my mother I would not share a bed with anyone other than a husband.”
“But I want you, Duna. My cock aches to be buried in your cunny.”