8. Erik

Chapter 8

Erik

T he first thing Erik did after leaving Cherine’s chamber was go straight to his own quarters and pleasure himself. Feeling her soft, wet body beneath his hands had been too much for him to take, and he had come far too close to taking her right there, against her will. He knew he essentially had to do so on behalf of Rolf in order to make Cherine suitable for him. If he didn’t, and Rolf was dissatisfied with her, there was a chance Rolf would kill her on the spot, perhaps even kill Erik. He was notoriously fickle like that. Still, Erik had tried to put his past behind him, and forcing himself on women wasn’t something he wanted to be a part of anymore…though, Cherine wasn’t making it easy.

The fact was, Erik had grown soft on her, and he knew it. Soft, though his cock seemed to grow exponentially harder at even the thought of her dark, lustrous hair or full, inviting lips. The way she looked at him, as if daring him to do his worst, not because she thought she deserved it but because she was curious, made Erik mad with lust and desire.

It didn’t take more than a few hard strokes from his hand before he came loudly in his bed. He didn’t even have the frame of mind to be embarrassed by his outcry. He wiped the mess up with a delicately woven pillow and tossed it across the room, not feeling the relief he craved. He still wanted her, still thought of her, and had no idea how to “break her in” without hating himself for it.

If only she could want it, he thought as he sprawled uneasily in his bed, the smooth sheets providing no comfort. If only she knew she’d like it.

And then, the idea came to him. It was perhaps more forceful and brutal than he preferred, but he could only hope she wouldn’t hold it against him when he was done with her.

If he could ever be done with her.

The next morning, Erik awoke with the rising sun, still hidden behind patchy layers of low-lying fog, and started moving. There were no souls stirring in the early hours, thanks to the copious amounts of wine the men had shared the night before, and Erik was pleased to see there were a few casks left. He snatched one off the opulent dining table with one hand, keeping a coil of thin rope in the other.

He went down the narrow, rocky stairs to the dungeon, shuddering at the damp and darkness. He was glad they were moving off that day and hoped Rolf would allow him to keep Cherine in a proper room in the next manor. She was lucky she hadn’t caught an illness while she’d been down there.

He paused at her thick door, debating on whether to knock, then decided the sound of him unlocking was warning enough. Besides, as much as he wanted Cherine, he couldn’t forget for a second that she’d do anything to escape and probably wouldn’t bat an eye if he wound up dead in the process. With that in mind, he pressed the door open and dropped to a crouch, just in case she was on the other side, ready to club him with the washing brush or a leftover plate.

He wasn’t too far off. The minute the door was wide enough, Cherine made a run for it. Erik leaped up and caught her in his arms. She screamed, and he quickly rammed the piece of rope in her mouth to stifle it. He spun her around, a dance of panic in the darkness, making the rope cross behind her head. He brought it down to her arms, where he quickly tied her wrists together, much like he did with his belt before. He was foolish to have removed it in the first place, but she had been so weak up until then; he didn’t think she was much of a threat.

And she wasn’t, not now that Erik had her essentially muzzled, her arms tied together. He held her roughly by her arm, trying to convey his strength, the fact that he couldn’t take things like this lightly. She moaned and sputtered against the rope in her mouth, but as long as she was breathing, he didn’t care. He was actually glad she chose to fight back; it was going to make the next part easier.

Erik took her to the corner of the room, where a single wooden chair sat. He ignored the terror in her eyes, thankful that the light from the torches in the hall didn’t travel quite this far.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Cherine,” he said, and she muttered something violently in return. “But I can’t have you trying to escape. And I can’t have you screaming either. You may think I’m a monster, but I can assure you, the men out there are far worse. Far, far worse.”

This calmed her down for a moment before she realized he was trying to sit her down. She bucked and squirmed, but Erik was fast with his hands, even in the near dark, and in moments, he had her bottom on the seat, the rope wrapped around her and the back of the chair.

He went for her legs next, and Cherine responded by kicking him right in the jaw. He bit down hard from the impact, tasting blood, and he couldn’t help but glare at her. Luckily, he knew the taste of blood would soon be replaced.

He grabbed her legs and tied them as far apart from each other as they could go, hooking them around the corners of the chair, then stood back and looked down at her, seeing only the rough shape of her body and the glint of torchlight in her eyes.

“I brought you some wine to make this easier,” he said. “Would you like some?”

Her eyes widened, and then she shook her head back and forth. No.

“More for me then.” He walked over to the door where he had dropped the cask of wine and opened it to his lips. He squeezed it out of the soft pigskin, filling his mouth and swallowing several gulps. He was nervous—damn nervous.

He reached out into the hallway and plucked one of the torches off the wall, then closed the door and made his way over to Cherine in the corner. He didn’t need the light but figured it might make things less frightening for her if she could see what was happening.

Less frightening and perhaps more enjoyable , he thought. Or maybe that was wishful thinking.

Erik placed the torch on the ground and wiped the wine off his lips. He stared at Cherine, and she stared right back. She was absolutely terrified, and he knew she had every right to be, but he also knew she wouldn’t stay scared for long. It might peak for a while, but then she’d be more than fine. He had to keep telling himself that; otherwise, he wouldn’t have the gall to go through with it.

He took a few steps toward her until his shins touched the edge of the chair. He could feel his erection rising and knew she noticed it. Her eyes were torn between his face and the growing bulge in his skirt.

“I’m going to do something for you,” he told her in a soft voice that bellied his rough desire. “It’s not going to hurt, not one bit. I promise you that.”

He reached down for her dress, one he had found for her in one of the room’s trunks, and lifted it from her legs.

Cherine rocked back and forth with muffled sobs, trying to get him to stop what she thought was coming, but he didn’t. He kept rolling the dress back slowly, like he was unwrapping a present, until her lower body was naked and exposed.

He sucked in a breath at the sight. Even though he had been bathing her the night before and had seen the springy hair between her legs, hinting at the forbidden flesh beneath, this was different. Last night, Erik struggled to keep his lust in check. This time, he was going to let it loose—he was going to get her to want him.

He slowly lowered himself, keeping his eyes fixed on hers. He placed his hands on her soft, white thighs and let out a slight moan of approval. She could do nothing but flinch at his touch.

He kept staring intently at her, willing her to relax, willing her to trust him. Of course, she wouldn’t. Her green eyes looked murderous and, underneath that, betrayed. It stung, but Erik had no choice but to keep going.

With extreme deliberation, his fingers trailed up her inner thigh, and she tried desperately to clamp them shut. She strained at the ropes but couldn’t break them, and her legs stayed held apart. She was completely immobile, completely helpless, at the mercy of a Viking.

He stopped when he touched her lower curls, taking a moment to lazily twirl his fingers in the short, soft length. Her body was tense all over, and she jerked at every press of his fingers.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, his voice lower and dripping with lust. His cock had become so hard, even the light pressure of the chair against it was nearly enough to make him lose it. “But you might scream.”

He couldn’t tell if the darkness that came over Cherine’s eyes was one of confusion at his choice of words, of fear, or even of her own deep desires. He took his index finger and slowly put it in his mouth, pulling it out when it was dripping with saliva. He gently trailed it down through her hair until it met the soft cleft. She took in a gasp of air, and he kept going, pressing his wet finger downwards, pushing apart the lips until he found her clit. With her legs tied spreadeagle, there was nothing she could do to stop him.

With his eyes still searching hers, he began rubbing her nub in rolling fashion, putting only the faintest of pressure there. He kept at it, watching her until she briefly closed her eyes. He noticed she was growing swollen and slick, and he increased the pressure of his finger.

“Are you a virgin, Cherine?” he asked in a hoarse voice. Her eyes flashed in response. “Don’t worry. I won’t be fixing that if you are,” he attempted to reassure her. “I’ll keep that intact. Only that.”

He withdrew his finger and crouched down. He placed his hands underneath her warm bottom and lifted it until his face was buried in her. The scent of her musk and the traces of lavender were like a tonic to him, and it took all his will to deny himself getting off. He had to ensure she got off first. Only then it was his time.

He breathed in deep then opened his mouth and let his tongue circle around the edges of her folds, teasing them. He felt her stiffen under his mouth, her ass rigid in his hands, but he kept going. He teased and teased, long thin strokes of his tongue, until he finally licked along her clit. She stiffened again and cried out, but even with the rope blocking her mouth, he could tell it wasn’t a cry of horror. It was one of shock. Virgin or not, this was entirely new to her.

He pressed a bit harder and began swiping his wide, thick tongue up and down from clit to cunt, occasionally plunging the tip into her. Cherine stopped stiffening as her hips began to rock into his mouth. Her cries went from shock to something deeper, something basic. She grew wetter, her clit plumper, and she opened like a flower in his mouth. He drank in her exquisite taste, a taste finer than any wine.

It didn’t take long for Cherine’s hips to start bucking, and she spasmed with muffled cries. Her legs and arms pulled at the restraints, every part of her body yearning to let go. He kept his lips on her until the orgasm slowed its course. Only then did he reach down and begin to stroke himself. He didn’t care if she found it perverse or not. He didn’t care about much in that moment.

He had turned away, trying to be somewhat decent, when Cherine cried out. He stopped and looked at her, surprised to find pleading eyes beneath her dropping lids. She motioned at him with a twist of her head, her chest heaving.

Erik wasn’t quite sure what she asked for, but it seemed like she wanted to watch him do it in front of her, where she could see it. He supposed it was only fair.

As he wasn’t an exhibitionist like Rolf, Erik had never pleasured himself in front of a woman before. He swallowed hard, enjoying the taste of her still on his tongue, then turned around to face her. One of his hands was wrapped in a hard ring around his cock, hidden by the folds of the skirt. She made an upward motion with her head as her eyes flamed deviously.

She wanted to see.

He raised his brow at her, gauging her intent. Satisfied, he flipped up the skirt and showed her how large and hard he was. She didn’t smile—that was nearly impossible with a rope in her mouth—but he could swear her eyes encouraged him.

It wasn’t much of a show. Erik’s grip on his cock grew tighter, pressed harder, worked faster, and in a minute, his legs were shaking. His eyes rolled back in his head as a thick stream of cum came pouring out of him onto the floor. In the throes of his orgasm, he noted he had the decency to at least aim away from her. That was always a fantasy of his, but the last thing he wanted would be to chance humiliating her.

When the last drop was milked out of him, he pulled down his skirt and deftly avoided Cherine’s eyes. There was something so vulnerable and exposed about pleasuring yourself in front of another person. Perhaps that was why Cherine wanted to see it.

To make things even.

He cleared his throat and looked back around the room, trying to bring his thoughts together in a coherent manner. As much as he was afraid she’d try and fight him off, to escape, he couldn’t leave her as she was, tied up and half naked. Besides, they had somewhere to go.

He untied her legs first, preparing for another kick, but she was done fighting. Even when her hands were free, she only pulled down her dress and went back to sitting in the chair, staring at him.

He freed her mouth next. She stretched it in a few wide yawns, relishing the release and fighting the cramp in her jaw.

She straightened up in the chair and looked Erik dead in the eyes.

No, she wasn’t going anywhere.