A NSFW sexy snippet – from my upcoming novel, ‘Viking Wolf’, the second volume in the ‘Viking Thunder’ series.
Grab the first segment of the story, free, from Amazon
“No more waiting,” he said, carrying me to his bed, which would now be mine, in the service of our mutual pleasure. He cared not for the others, beyond the curtain, who must surely hear us, and nor did I, so eager was I to sate my aching need. He lay me back, and pushed my skirts to my waist, then freed his erection from the rough wool of his trousers.
We’d been too long without consummation. Eirik would have taken me in the prow of the boat, had it amused him to do so, but the roughness of the waves scarcely permitted it. How scared I’d been, sick with fear and the motion of the vessel, as it fought with the wind. I’d believed never to see land again but he’d pulled me to him, murmuring comforts, and bid me lay my head upon his lap. I’d been grateful for his strength, as I struggled with my own weakness.
He reached beneath, to draw me up, lifting me to his cock, nudging past the tightness of my initial trembling, for his size was enough to awe any woman. He pushed gradually within, easing me to accommodate his girth, voicing his pleasure in the warmth of my cunt, and its constriction.
Within a few strokes, I drew up my legs, offering him deeper entry. Still, I held my breath as I prepared to take his full length. He slid to fill me with a groan of satisfaction, then began his steady rhythm, looking upon my face as he drew back and forth, eyes bright with desire, bringing from me a returning moan.
His need would not allow him to hold back for long, his thrusts growing harder. Only his grip beneath me, pulling me upwards, to meet the lunge of his cock, prevented me from being pushed away from him. With the force of his fucking, my voice rose. My fingers kneaded the muscle of his buttocks, urging him on; I’d known his lovemaking would be fierce, and I welcomed it.
At last, his voice broke in a Viking oath, and he shuddered, plunging with final fervour. I felt the flood of his seed, and gave my own cry, part pain and joy, breathless with the suddenness of it.
With a low chuckle, he lowered his mouth to mine, kissing me gently. “A good beginning, my Elswyth.”
His hands moved upwards, first to squeeze my waist, then to push down the fabric covering my breasts. He took each in his mouth, humming low as he suckled, rubbing his beard where it would most antagonize me. I wriggled, and clenched, against his retreating engorgement.
It wouldn’t be long before he was again ready, his prowess being such as any man would envy. He pulled off my gown and the shift beneath, so that I lay naked before him. Stretched back on the bed, I opened my legs to him, awakened to desire, and the certainty of fulfilment. There was nothing I would not give him.
His own clothing removed, he knelt above me, and I quivered at the sight of him. I knew all the scars of his body, and its markings too. The intricate patterns of the inked sleeves upon his arms, dark green and blue-black, forming the branches of knotted trees, and the three horns interlinked, signifying the power of Odin. The snake Jormungand, curving down his spine, scales rippling as he moved, and its head twisting over his shoulder, its serpent eyes watching me. The circle of pointed arrows on his chest, and more across the top of his buttocks: a cloak of beliefs, which gave him power. I had no doubt of the power he exerted over me.
His erection was already rising. I wanted to feel him, to be naked under the insistence of his hands and mouth, coated with the sweat of his body, and mine.
He looked down on me with his customary confidence, tracing the curve of my belly, stroking through my soft fur. I held his gaze, wishing him to see me as clearly as I saw him.
“With just my tongue, little bird, I can trap you, and keep you, or make you fly.” His voice growled low, speaking in my own language, his vowels drawn out as he formed the words.
He raised my hips again, and lowered his face, brushing my delicate skin with the bristles of his beard, kissing to the entrance between my legs. I felt the cream bubble from inside me, trickling out, in anticipation of receiving him.
He drew the flat of his tongue through my slit, before flicking against the sensitive nub, making me gasp before he pushed inside, to rub back and forth, moving expertly, to press where I desired, although never hard enough.
“Please,” I begged, “Eirik…”
“More?” he whispered, breath hot against my thigh.
I bit my lip as he penetrated more deeply, sliding through me in long, slow strokes.
He lifted his head and grinned, emerging from my slipperiness, sitting back on his heels. The firm, hard-muscled ridges of his abdomen led to the thatch of his groin, and the thickened root: full again, dark-veined, with the head pushed forward, glistening with arousal.
I reached for him, eager to pull him down, and into me, but he took both my hands and moved them to the base of his meat. “Feel me,” he said. “Take it. Taste it.”
Gripping the shaft, I rolled the skin back and forth, before guiding him to my lips, moving the velvet of my mouth over his smoothness, beyond the furrow and some way down his column, enclosing him tightly. I loved the solidity of him in my mouth.
He shifted and groaned, pushing one of my hands lower, to cover his sac, closing his fingers over mine, rubbing himself through my grasp. I kneaded the heaviness in my palm, working him harder, extending my fingers to stroke the skin between his balls and his anus.
“Völva!” he groaned, calling me enchantress in his own tongue, twisting under the pleasure I gave him.
I smiled as I took him from my mouth, for I fully intended to bewitch him. Shifting quickly, I moved to sit astride his lap. I was ready to lose myself in the heat of his body, but the devil in me wished him also to wait, as I had waited.
I was open, slick with his semen and my own desire, but I held back, rubbing only the tip of him to my ache.
“Now!” He growled, his hands firmly on my waist, pulling me down, so that he slid inside in one long stroke.
Burying his face in my breasts, he pulled a nipple into his mouth, tugging hungrily, grazing me with his teeth.
“Faster!” Eirik groaned, wrapping his arms tight across my lower back.
I was soon close to the edge, rolling my hips, grinding my need against the base of his cock, crying out as I rose and fell.
As my tumult crashed upon me, Eirik pressed his fingers between my cheeks, pushing me to take him deeper, and harder, and with the rhythm he so badly wanted, lifting me bodily up and down upon his shaft.
Three more strokes and his head fell back, his eyes wide and glassy, mouth open in breathlessness. His cock leapt inside me, pulsing to his final thrust and groan, and my own terrible delight swept me into the dark chasm.
I lay in the curve of Eirik’s back, listening to the wind rising, in the dark. I’d once told Helka that I was filled with longing for something I couldn’t name, and that I felt I’d die for want of it. Had I found what I was looking for, or had my search only just begun?
Viking Wolf is due for release in June 2018
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