Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

“What say you?” Viggo was aware of her kneeling close. Reaching down, he found her hand. Was she looking up at him? The direction of her voice indicated it was so.

What does she see?

A broken man without hope? The set of my mouth revealing my misery? My eyes speaking of shame? She must understand. Better to remove myself from this world than remain a burden. ‘Tis the only honor left to me.

He’d little inclination to father a child—least of all one he’d never see—but if the bargain ensured an end to his suffering…

Her breathing was audible, each exhalation stirring the air in the small space between them. Strange that he could sense such a thing, but in the prevailing, oppressive darkness, there was only her presence. The rest was emptiness—a void he’d no strength to breach.

His first thoughts had been of uniting with his jarl, but that now filled him with repugnance. How could he stand before Eldberg, or any other, knowing they’d view him with pity?

The young woman was yet to answer, and the pause lay heavy. Aware, suddenly, of how tightly he gripped her hand, Viggo relaxed his hold.

“Do you assent?”

She made no move to withdraw, allowing her fingers to remain encircled by his.

“I do.”

Though her voice wavered, it held enough conviction to assure him that when the time came, she would do as he asked. He would not be forced to live in the darkness—excluded and alone.

He blew out a breath, the tension in his shoulders falling away. The deal was struck. All that remained was to impregnate her, and the sooner, the better. If she was fertile, it might take only one cycle of her blood to achieve what was needed.

“Come then.” He pulled her upright. “Release my cock, then sit across my lap with your skirts lifted.”

“What?” She sounded alarmed.

“We needn’t waste time.” Their bargain didn’t include sweet-talk to moisten her cunny. If the wench wanted his seed, she’d have to make the best of it. “I’ll harden soon enough. Use your mouth if you want to speed things along, or frig me with your hand, but a good rub of your netherlips upon my length should do the trick.”

“I hadn’t thought… that is… do you mean to start so soon?”

His irritation rose at her hesitation. “First, you implore me to the deed; now, you delay. Make up your mind. Am I to pretend soft feelings to prise your legs apart?”

“No. That is, I don’t expect…” Her voice trailed away. “‘Tis merely sudden.”

He shrugged. “Your hesitation does nothing to stiffen my staff.”

“Oh.” What was that timbre in her voice? Hurt? Or bewilderment?

If she was old enough to ask for what she wanted, she was old enough to take what he gave her. In truth, the thought of her astride his lap was already rousing him. With her legs wide, her sheath would offer a slick entry. He licked his lips, anticipating how it would feel. If he pulled her down by the hips to take him to the hilt, ‘twas a position that made a woman grip pleasingly upon a man’s shaft.

“You don’t wish for us to…” she paused. “Lie down or to remove…”

Viggo frowned. Did she want them to lie like summer lovers in the meadow, twisted in some coddling embrace? She’d be asking him to kiss her next.

But for the sake of getting it done, he’d do as she wanted. With a sigh, he yanked off his tunic, then pulled at the tie on his braies , pushing them downward.

“Come then! If you’ve a mind for me to handle your breasts, take off your gunna . I’ve no objection.” As if in agreement, his cock, already at half-mast, leapt up to graze his abdomen.

“As you say.” Her voice came somewhat breathless, accompanied by the rustling of skirts.

Viggo couldn’t help imagining how she’d look without her clothes. Small breasts and a nimble waist? Once she mounted him, he’d soon find out.

As to being dark or fair, he hoped the latter, with limbs slender and pale and a light dusting of fur betwixt the thighs. Not that he cared either way. He’d swive a wench regardless of her shape or the comeliness of her face.

Such things matter even less now. I might picture her as beauteous as Freyja herself.

There was a grim humor to it. He might couple with a crone and pump as enthusiastically, as long as he kept his hands from roaming too far.

“Are you ready?” He reached for her, dismayed to grasp nothing but air.

How can anyone be expected to live like this?

‘Twas beyond what any man should bear—this powerlessness! Nevertheless, Viggo steadied himself. He’d pretend ‘twas the midst of night to feel the disadvantage less.

“I’m here.” She caught his searching hand, guiding him to touch her.

He found the outline of her hip, tracing the indentation of her waist with his fingertips. Skimming upward, he sought her breast, finding it small and firm as a peach. He didn’t need his sight to locate the bud of her nipple.

Hearing her gasp, his staff swelled. Blind he might be, but he knew how to ready a woman for the act.

“Closer.” He’d harbored no expectation, but the stirring in his groin could not be denied. His desire was genuine. He needed the heat of her flesh.

She obeyed his command, her knee grazing his, and he opened his legs wide, drawing her between them. He encircled her, pulling her soft body into the cradle of his arms, the better to nuzzle her breasts.

A half-protest left her lips, and she pushed against him, but there was no force in her resistance. As she twisted away, her thigh brushed the heaviness of his balls and the underside of his cock. A moan escaped him, more animal than human, bringing with it the need to mate, to lift her upon his lap and pierce her through.

He brought his hands round to claim her buttocks and grunted his approval as he encountered two soft, plump handfuls. With one deft movement, he raised her up, closing his legs so hers were obliged to part around him.

How the temptress struggled! Once her weight was supported, however, he sensed her relax. With her hands upon his shoulders, she leaned close, her breath warm upon his cheek.

In his mind’s eye, he saw her there, straddling him enticingly, stretched open where he wanted to penetrate. An ache deep within told him not to wait.

“Take me inside you.” He fought to keep his voice even. “Now, woman!” He needed her to guide him since his hands were occupied.

Slowly, her fingers trailed downward. ‘Twas torture, feeling her stir lightly through the hair of his chest, brushing the tip of his nipple, before skirting the planes of his abdomen, taking her time, when all he wanted was to…

“Aaah!” He gave a gasp as she traveled lower.

At last, she had his girth in hand!

The span of her fingers did not quite encompass him, but her grip was firm. She gave a squeeze that had him draw a sharp intake of breath.

Tentatively, she stroked back and forth in a rhythm more distracting than desirable. Nevertheless, some part of him was moved. He didn’t need his sight to know he was hard as iron. She must see it, yet she attempted to frig him, to enhance his pleasure.

“Enough! I’m ready.” His voice held a rasping edge. “Steer me into your cunny and be done with it!”

She stiffened, suddenly unmoving.

Damn it! What does she want? Lover’s words?

She wishes me to breed with her, naught else.

My cock hardens at her provocation because I’m a man responding to a female’s caress. It means nothing more.

It can mean nothing more.

“Here, I’ll do it!” Easing one hand from where he held her, he brought it to his phallus, maneuvering toward her sheath.

She wobbled upon his lap, and the movement brought the brush of silken curls to the head of his cock, then the touch of her parted labia. She was wet, even though he’d not touched her there.

Viggo moaned at the alluring sensation.

How long has it been?

He enjoyed the sex act but, of late, he’d refrained from seeking out such company. A foolish abstinence, for his body clearly craved the release. He brought his thumb to her slit, wanting to feel the slick warmth, and she flinched. Nevertheless, her hands fastened upon his shoulders, the nails biting there.

Ah yes! She’s eager, sure enough. Some women like to tussle, do they not? Scratching and writhing, even as they drive their hips to meet a man’s thrusts.

Smiling to himself, Viggo rubbed betwixt her folds and was rewarded with another of the woman’s half-strangled mewls. Her thighs tightened around his, and her grasp on his shoulders intensified.

There was satisfaction in it—having her panting for his touch, knowing she desired him. Her little button of flesh was prominent, and he drew it between two of his fingers, sliding back and forth. The woman liked it, that was obvious, for she was bearing down on him now. It took only the slightest change of angle, and he moved further within her lips.

The throb in his cock was near unbearable, but he wanted first to enter her this way, to slide inside and crook against the smooth walls that would soon sheath him. Let her feel this penetration first, then beg for him to replace it with what she really wanted.

With one smooth motion, he pushed the heel of his hand against the sensitive bud and drove two fingers deep.