Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

Desire surged in the spaces where slumber had settled over him only moments before. Elin was more captivating than a vision, as magnificent as any woman he'd known, and her acquiescence was something exquisite.

Naturally, he wanted her to submit. It had been his expectation from the first. Any wench who yearned to tumble in his bed furs would do so. Nonetheless, there was something different about the woman stretched out beside him. There had been from the beginning.

She'd worked hard in caring for him, helping him to heal, but she'd become so much more, haunting his dreams each night.

Hadn't he been dreaming of her just now, of her caressing his cheek while he lay in her arms? He would swear it was so and that another had been there, looking over them—she who'd rocked him to sleep from the earliest time and sung to him in his cradle.

Rangvald pushed away the remembrance of his mother. All he knew was that Elin dominated his thoughts now, and he longed for her. The passion between them the prior night had been divine.

Perhaps their union was the work of the gods. He wasn't so conceited as to believe he knew better than the all-powerful deities. Maybe they'd chosen Elin to save him from his life of determined anguish, for wasn't that how his existence had seemed before their ship had splintered on Elin's shore?

Rangvald was familiar with the driving power of lust, but there was more to his longing for Elin than carnal need. She offered a tenderness he'd experienced from none but his mother, a genuine affection unknown since her passing.

The hunger in Elin's eyes spoke of the possibility of both passion and tenderness—and that excited him. He'd always sought both, hadn't he, deep down, while never dreaming a woman existed who might feel this way about him?

Elin had been honest about her needs, and he respected that. She wanted a child, and while he'd rarely considered fatherhood, he'd no real opposition to the idea. He supposed she would be a good mother. She'd certainly cared well for him; no doubt, she'd dote on an infant.

But he had needs, too. Desires that required attention if she was to conceive from his seed. It was time he paid her the same courtesy of sincerity and told her what he wanted. It was time little Elin understood what her submission would really cost.

"I have rather specific needs." Raising his free hand, he stroked the side of her heated face. Her skin was soft, as was her hair. He brushed fine strands of gold from her widening eyes. "Needs that I expect you to attend to."

Through the thin material of her nightshift, he could see her nipples had stiffened, though whether from arousal or fear, he couldn't say.

"What sort of needs?" Her voice caught.

"My mastery of you." Merely speaking the words aloud brought a flood of hunger.

In his mind's eye, he pictured her surrender. The way she'd look as she knelt and the blush upon her high cheekbones as she accepted his whispered command. How much of his manhood might she swallow before starting to gag, and how long could he withstand that sweet agony before erupting down her throat—or better, over her stunned expression?

"You still want me to call you meistari ?" She frowned.

"When you're ready." He wound his fingers in her tresses.

He couldn't wait to hear the honorific from her tempting lips, but he wouldn't compel her deference. Even now, though she'd agreed to yield, he wanted affirmation of how much she craved his touch, to know she yearned for his authority.

‘Twas not enough for her to submit in exchange for the child she longed for. Any exchange of power between them, however perverse it might seem to her, had to be consensual. Rangvald had seen the alternative and had no appetite for it.

"But… how will you master me?" Her voice was small as she blinked up at him.

He sensed she was gaining comprehension of her predicament. If she wanted to bear a babe from his loins, she'd have to offer more than bland obedience.

Any way I choose.

‘Twould be unwise to become carried away too fast, though his damn injuries prevented him from indulging the many deeds in which his imagination had been reveling.

He longed to secure her hands before thrashing her buttocks with leather. Then, when she couldn't abide any more of his torment, he'd slide his hard staff where she was tightest. Not as a punishment, although he'd gladly tan her arse as required. He'd use the deed to meld her more to his liking, to warm her to his commands and receive his instructions without query.

He'd teach her how to beg for what they both knew she wanted.

Mental images of her submission brought a further swell to his cock. How wonderful Elin would look as her skin reddened under his tutelage and how delightful it would be to claim her in that other place.

"We'll start with basic routines."

"Routines?" The crease in her forehead deepened.

"You'll pay homage to me before you rise each morning."

She blinked, as if bewildered. "Homage?"

"Mmmm." He couldn't recall anyone having such soulful eyes as Elin. It was one of her many alluring features. "Nothing you won't enjoy."

"Such as…" Playfully, she trailed her fingers upon his chest.

"You'll polish my staff… thoroughly until I'm satisfied and licked clean."

She looked up at him seriously, as if contemplating his demand. "You want me to pleasure you with my mouth?"

"That's right." He couldn't wait to feel that heat around his aching flesh. He yearned for that pleasure. "Every morning before you rise."

"What else?" A twinkle appeared in her eyes. "Will you seek to control every aspect of my day?"

"Not at present." The idea appealed, though ‘twas impractical as things stood. If their union lasted, he'd demand more. "You'll have duties aplenty to perform for me but are free to come and go as you please otherwise. This is, after all, your home, Elin. Your island."

"‘Tis true." She brushed the hairs upon his upper chest, making his skin prickle, teasing him.

"You agree to my terms?" Swiftly, he captured her hand. The way she was touching him had brought a low throb to his groin, and he'd soon be unable to control himself. As tempting as it was to simply push her legs apart and enter her, the rules of this arrangement were important. He would not proceed until her compliance was without doubt.

Of course, he'd been intentionally vague, not wanting to limit his desires to whatever he could conjure at this moment, but she surely understood. She'd be his to dominate, and in return, she could milk every drop of seed for her womb.

"I agreed already… I think?" Her breathing was ragged as her eyes searched his, and it made his testicles clench.

"Then let us begin. Remove your shift. There's a gift waiting for you." Releasing her hand, he pulled back the bed furs to reveal his engorged staff. All this talk of her compliance had made him rock hard, and he needed relief.

"You want me to take you in my mouth now?"

What was that in her voice? Excitement? His heart sped in anticipation. He wanted her eager for all he would deliver upon her.

"Weren't you listening, little Elin?" His voice hardened a fraction. "You truly should listen when your meistari gives you instructions."

"I…" Her voice trailed away. He hadn't ordered her to call him master, but master her, he would. "Yes. I was listening."

"And what did I ask of you?"

She held his gaze. "You want me naked."

"Very good." He couldn't resist adopting a condescending tone. "So why are you still covered, little Elin?"

Little Elin . His lips curled at the impromptu pet name he'd created for her. She was diminutive, after all. Significantly smaller than he and infinitely fascinating.

"I'm sorry." Quickly, she wriggled free of her shift, discarding it to the floor. Her focus was entirely upon his erection, and she was clearly eager. "Should I…"

"Wait!" He forced himself toward the edge of the bed, despite the pain of moving. His injuries had held him back long enough. It was time he took control.

"On your knees on the floor." He pointed. "That's where you'll worship me."

"Yes, Meistari ." Mischief flashed in her eyes as she lowered gracefully to her knees.

She was using the term he longed to hear but only playfully, as a whim to appease him. It made no difference to his cock, however. As she looked up at him, the pulse deep in the root of his arousal grew.

"Nearer." He crooked one finger, beckoning, and she shuffled forward until she was between his knees. He stroked over her hair, then her cheek, brushing his thumb down to her chin and urging her attention upward once more.

"You are lovely."

She was close, her breath warm against his inner thigh and the heavy sac beneath his arousal.

"I know not… what you wish me to say."

"Say nothing." Gripping the base of his staff, he pushed it in her direction. "I have a better use for that pretty mouth of yours."

As her lips parted, he shoved his length between them, his manhood stemming her sudden gasp.

"This is how I use your mouth." Every sinew of his body was straining, taut with desire as her wet heat enveloped him. His blood pumped fiercely, exerting authority over her mouth. "This is how you'll service me every morning—on your knees."

She blinked, her eyes huge and pleading as she struggled to take him. Her hands rose in desperation, pushing at his thighs.

"No." His tone was clipped. "Hands behind your back, little Elin."

Her brows knitted, but she obeyed him, tucking her hands out of the way to offer what he wanted.

"Take me." He glided past her lips and back again, relishing the sensation. "You shall permit me to use you this way, and once I'm sated, you'll lick clean any seed that does not fill your mouth."

She gave a guttural groan. Though her tears sprung, she was relaxing, staring up at him, letting his cock enter to the very back of her throat. The look in her eyes near undid him to see her willingly surrender, her desire surely matching his own. That thought pushed him closer to the gates of Valhalla with each thrust.

"By Odin!" He growled, bringing his hand to the back of her head, holding her in place as she consumed him. "You are wonderful, Elin."

If she would do this every morning, taking as much delight in her subjugation as he took in commanding, the pleasure would be unfathomable.

What a gift from the gods! A woman who relished succumbing to his dark will but who was capable of coping without him. One attractive enough to rouse and hold his interest but who knew her own mind.

He hadn't known this was what he needed or that such a woman existed—not until this moment, seeing Elin before him.

As his climax built, Rangvald made a vow. He would give her this child. ‘Twas more than a fair price to pay for her submission. Whether their lustful pact could survive beyond that outcome, he prayed to all the gods to make it so.

With a cry of gratification, he gave in to the eruption of his seed. Elin held fast, keeping her lips about his girth, but as he roared his final gratification, he withdrew, pumping the final spurts over her lips and nose.

Elin gasped, a look of surprise upon her face.

Rangvald was lost—to the blinding sensations thrilling through his body and to the woman cradled between his legs.

She was his now, and he would not relinquish her.