Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Soothing him with gentle words, Signy eased Viggo out of his clothes. Mutely, he accepted her help, stepping into the wooden tub she’d filled. The water she’d left heating was sufficient, though he sat with his knees near touching his chin—far too tall to occupy the vessel comfortably.

Thank the gods, he was unharmed but for a nasty slice on the middle joint of his foremost knuckle. This she’d doused with water before binding with a strip of linen.

All that blood!

Though the scarlet streaking his face and hair was only partly his own. The rest was from the rabbit she’d been given.

What had possessed him to skin the thing and begin cutting it up? Wielding the sharpest of her knives! He might have truly…

She shook away that thought.

He was safe with her there, and the bewildered, half-frantic state she’d found him in had ebbed away. His eyes, though unseeing, were usually so expressive, lit from within by stark and turbulent passions; now, they were dull, and this new passivity worried her. ‘Twas as if a flame had been extinguished, rendering him uncaring of his body or surroundings.

Had he given up? Naught mattered to him anymore—not even her own presence?

The witnessing of it stabbed at her heart.

Without protest, he tipped back his head as she scooped water to wash his hair, lathering with honey soap. Tenderly, she pushed the damp locks behind his ears and from his forehead, lingering at his nape to rub the tension there. The tendons of his neck were tight, but she worked on them, pushing with her fingertips.

The room was near dark, with only the firelight revealing to her the planes of his back. The crackle of the flames and their warmth was comforting.

At last, he uttered a long sigh. “Why are you doing this?”

She paused, unsure whether he was objecting to the way she was touching him. “I can stop… if you wish it.”

“Nay. ‘Tis… pleasurable. I ask only… why you bother.” He took another, deep-rendered breath, letting it go in a long exhalation.

She lowered her hands to his shoulders, smoothing outward, feeling the muscles bunch and flex as she continued her kneading. Gradually, he began to relax.

“You’re in need of kindness. Why shouldn’t I give my care?”

“I don’t deserve it,” he said simply.

“‘Tis good that we don’t always receive exactly what we deserve. In any case, I think you’re too harsh upon yourself.” She moved around and, dipping a cloth in the water, removed the stain from his cheeks.

Closing his eyes, he tipped his head to one side, resting against her palm as she took the cleansing stroke to his brow. Droplets sat upon his flesh and, not for the first time, she wondered at the musculature of his body. All men worked, but the strength in Viggo’s back and in his shoulders and arms was beyond any she’d seen before. The curve of his upper torso was defined, creating two taut plates of muscle above his nipples.

Were they as sensitive as her own?

Setting aside the washcloth, she placed her hands flat upon his chest, tracing outward from the center through tawny hair.

He took a sharp breath, stiffening as she skimmed the small, brown tips.

Her own breasts responded, as if ‘twas herself she teased. Lightly, she moved her thumb upon him and was aware of her nipples hardening.

Her gaze dropped lower to his tapering waist and narrow hips, to where the hair began again, disappearing beneath the water. She looked brazenly between his legs, where the smooth head of his manhood bobbed to the surface. As if he knew where she observed him, he let his legs fall farther apart, and more of his phallus became visible alongside the loose orbs below, furred lightly with golden hair.

His hand came over hers, guiding it downward from his chest to his abdomen, then lower still, until she was clasping him. His palm held her there.

“‘Tis yours.” His voice contained a slight tremble. It was clear he sought her touch, that he needed it.

She’d caressed him before, of course, but this felt different. ‘Twas more an invitation than a command.

He lolled his head back, exposing his throat as she worked upon him, at the root, then encasing his length with longer motions. By the time she drew the foreskin back and forth at the head with a faster stroke, he was clutching the sides of the tub, his hips straining upward.

Breathless, he supplicated her, and she felt her power over him—not because she had her eyes and he did not, but because she could give him pleasure, and he desired it.

“Take me in your mouth, I beg you!” Widening his thighs, he hooked his legs over the tub at the knee, lifting himself clear of the water.

She bent over, uncaring that her bodice and sleeves became wet. She took him wholly between her lips and reveled in it, sliding him repeatedly past the warm softness of her cheeks to the opening of her throat.

His hoarse moan encouraged her. She licked and sucked the engorged head, playing about its rim, paying attention to the place that made him gasp the most, beneath the swollen glans.

She kept one hand encircled about his shaft while cupping the twin sacks drawn tight to his body.

“Fuck! Yes!” His cry was urgent, his body jerking upward.

She withdrew, wanting to watch as his seed left his phallus. It jetted white, spattering upon his belly and the water. His face was briefly tortured, gasping as if he was in pain.

When he was done, he opened his eyes once more. Though there was a languor to him, he looked more present.

“My thanks. I’m… grateful.”

“I wished to do it,” Signy’s reply was soft. “You must know, you’re the only man I’ve ever… and I’m not sorry. I’m glad ‘tis you.”

He sat up straighter. “The gods both hate and love me, it seems.”

“Enough of that. Let’s get you out.” She proffered him her hand, and taking it, he buried his face in her palm.

“I have pleasure to repay in kind. Lead me to your bed, and let me show you.” The water sloshed over as he stood, dampening both the floor and Signy’s skirts.

She was determined not to let anything spoil this. He knew of her scars and didn’t seem to care. She only hoped he wouldn’t touch her too much there and make her think of them. Signy made short work of flinging off her clothes, wanting to be as naked as he, wanting him to touch her unhindered. She wanted him inside her again, filling her with his heated, demanding thrusts. As he knelt upon the bed, she moved close and took his phallus in hand.

“Patience.” He caught her wrist. “I’ve only just spent. Let me caress you, and I’ll soon be ready once more.”

His hands came up to cup her breasts, and she sighed as he kneaded and stroked, thumbing the nipples and suckling them until each nub ached and prickled. The attention sent the now familiar pang to her crux. He was surely aware of how much she needed him, but he made no move to penetrate her, instead seeking out the leather tie which secured the long, thick plait of her hair. This he unraveled before dragging his fingers through the braided locks, separating them.

At last, the skein hung freely over her right breast, and he lifted it to his face. Almost reverentially, he rubbed the silken length to his cheek and touched his lips upon it, then inhaled deeply.

“Milk and honey, like the rest of you. Tell me, what color is your hair?”

Signy hesitated. She’d never been asked before. Anyone with eyes could see the hue for themselves. Anyone except Viggo.

“‘Tis a mixture,” she answered shyly. “Not so fair, nor dark, like the sand where the water meets it.”

Taking the curling end of the silken rope, he twisted it loosely about his knuckle.

“Hair that glints bronze with the warmth of summer and streaked with gold, like the last rays of day upon the waves. That’s how I picture it.”

Signy’s heart swelled. She’d seen neither bronze nor gold, but she knew of those precious metals. She liked that Viggo imagined her thus. It meant more than him simply looking upon her and declaring her beautiful. Viggo’s way of seeing her was quite different.

“And your eyes… they’re blue?” Featherlight, he brushed his fingertip to her lashes. “Tinged with violet, like the first forest bluebells? Or are they paler, like meadow cornflowers?”

She didn’t know the flowers of which he spoke, but they sounded lovely. He surely meant to compliment her, which was pleasing, although she wasn’t sure how to respond. She was unused to flattery. Her mother said it was better that way lest she become prideful of her looks. She’d seen her reflection, naturally, in the pools upon the hillside but had noted nothing out of the ordinary.

“My eyes are much the same as anyone’s, I suppose. Most are blue.”

“Nay, not like anyone else,” Viggo whispered. “You could never be that.” He dropped the pad of his thumb to her mouth, pressing softly. “This part of you I can see without help. Lips plump and full and soft, like the thick petals of a mountain poppy.”

“How can you tell such a thing?” She had the strongest urge to open her mouth about his thumb and draw it inside, to suck upon it as she had his phallus. Thinking of it sent another ache between her legs.

“I know because ‘tis the way when a person wishes to be kissed.” He leaned forward, rubbing his nose to hers.

“You think to know what I wish for?” He was right, of course. She did want to be kissed. Even that first time, when he’d been so rough with her, she’d wanted to feel his mouth in a kiss.

The hand around which her hair was wrapped came to her jaw, capturing her there.

“I know not only what you wish for but what you need—to lose yourself, Signy, to know only this moment of us together.”

His mouth joined hers, and she clung to him as he plundered with tongue slick and teeth gently tugging, making her his possession. His caress held her upright, as did the hand that snaked about her waist.

“Please.” Again, she sought his phallus. She was made for him, and nothing could assuage her yearning but to have him fill her with his hard thrusts.

In response, he eased her back upon the furs, continuing the kiss but holding himself above her, not yet entering her body. Nevertheless, she brought her legs tight about his hips, lifting herself to meet him.

“All things are coming to you.” His voice was a low murmur as he moved his hands upon her body, the callouses grazing the delicate skin of her breasts. She gasped as he claimed her nipple with his mouth, consuming it fervently.

‘Twas a pain of sorts, but one that made her twist beneath him, wanting him never to stop. Let his hungry mouth devour her flesh until there was no span of her body unmarked by his rough kisses.

As if reading her thoughts, he took her other breast, feasting while he skimmed the plane of her stomach toward her mound. As he slid his fingers inside, her sheath clenched, drawing them deeper. He caressed her cleverly, moving in rhythm to the pulling of his mouth, making her writhe and plead.

She opened her legs wider, and he brought his thumb to tease where she ached. ‘Twas unbearable! Trapped beneath him, thus tortured with pleasure. Her need became only greater when he slid downward to fasten his mouth where his thumb had delved. The tip of his tongue teased the sensitive peak while his fingers continued their thrusting.

She grasped his shoulders as she surrendered, falling, the flames roaring in her ears as her tumult took hold, radiating outward in hot waves.

His senses were swamped with her scent, her taste. Her bud protruded, begging for his mouth, and she was sobbing his name, writhing against him.

“Viggo!” Her fingers tangled and twisted in his hair while she arched and bucked beneath his relentless tongue. “It’s too much! I beg you!”

Signy pushed away with one hand while tugging upon his head with the other, grinding her sex to his face. She’d reached her peak, but he wanted to hear her come again. He was on the brink of losing control, knowing the state to which he’d brought her, and pride swelled within him. Signy was little more than a virgin, unused to the intensity of passion, but she needed his body as ferociously as he needed hers.

He wanted to abandon himself in her, to crush her to him, laying waste to her soft innocence. He could wait no more. If he didn’t get inside her now, he’d lose his mind. In one swift motion, he turned her at the hips, positioning her legs so her arse was thrust upward.

She gave a small whimper at his manhandling but did not pull away.

“I’m going to explore every part of you Signy, to kiss and bite and lick. It’s what you want, yes? To have me take you over and over, to feel me moving hard in your body until you are running wet with my seed?”

He dipped low to inhale her once more, and she moaned, parting her thighs. Running his tongue broadly from her nub into the silken recess, he drank her cream and pushed his tongue deep. He would have liked to gaze upon her, to see how flushed and engorged she was, to watch as her arousal seeped from her sheath. Instead, he relied upon his imagination and his other senses, which told him how much her body invited him.

Parting her soft cheeks, he dragged his tongue between their crease, seeking out the pucker of her tightest place. He laughed as she struggled against his probing there, making mewling sounds all the while.

“‘Tis only my kiss, sweetling.”

For now…

Such a coupling could not be rushed and would be for pleasure alone rather than the child she’d asked for, but he’d no doubt she would be compliant when the time came. He had nothing else to give but this. When he was gone, he hoped she’d look back on these days and feel some warmth for him.

Why she desired a child this way, rather than marrying, he could not fathom, nor why her mother supported such an idea. Nevertheless, he was content to do his part.

Signy would find a true husband at last—a man worthy of her, who would recognize the treasure he possessed and guard it well. But always, he, Viggo, would occupy some portion of her memory, and if a son or daughter were born, she would see him in the child, perhaps.

Viggo grazed his teeth across one fleshy orb, nuzzling and biting, before turning to the other, but his cock protested against further delay. Gripping her hips, he aligned himself, then eased forward.

She gasped as her sheath yielded, surrounding him with liquid heat. He was stretching her slowly, making her accept him. She was hot and tight but ready, and by the third gliding stroke, she pressed back to meet him.

“That’s what I want!” He gritted his teeth to control himself. “Take more of me. Deeper!”

She tilted her pelvis, helping him do just that.

He was buried, with her plump behind pressed to his groin and his balls brushing the damp curls of her labia.

“Deep, where I belong. So deep!”

She responded with a gentle pleading, urging him to keep moving inside her.

By the gods! I won’t disappoint her.

She was so soft, so pliant, and she wanted him to fuck her.

He eased out, with Signy clenching him all the while, then gave her another of the long, satisfying strokes.

“Faster. Please! I want you.” She was breathless beneath him.

“Like this?” He did as she asked, delivering a sudden thrust.

It was almost his undoing.

He wasn’t going to last.

There would be three or four more, at most, and he wanted her to come with him, for her to crash and fall as he delivered his seed.

Desperately, he pulled her upright, so her back rested upon his chest, and fastened his hands around her—one cupping her breast while the other delved between her legs. Without difficulty, he found her bud, and she let out a cry as soon as he touched her there.

With her seated upon him, he let her take over the rhythm of their mating. Her hand covered his, adding pressure to where he stroked her, and she opened her thighs wider, exposing herself even further to his intimate caress.

“Please!” She panted, “I want you.”

Hearing her say the words pushed him over. His body roared for release. With one great thrust, he drove upward while holding her firm.

“Signy!” He pulled her into his chest as his balls tightened, hardening with a single, primitive purpose. Then he was shuddering, hot ripples burning through his abdomen.

He heard her sweet, piercing cry and felt the weight of her head thrown back. A further husky, surrendering groan ripped from inside him—from the bowels of his body, from a place hidden deep in his bones. He wrapped his arms about her fiercely, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

Who was this woman to do this to him?

Hot tears seared his eyes.