Chapter 6

He'd waited so long for this.

Wooing her gently was unbearable… What he wouldn't give to have both arms strong again. Hel, he'd jerk the woman onto her back and feast upon her, whatever her wishes.

Though he'd been conscious only a few days, it felt like an eternity—endless hours of laying like this, suffering, yet all the while thinking of her, watching her. Plenty of time to plan what he wanted to do, and his orders from Eldberg changed none of that.

He'd no taste for playing his jarl's lengthy game, offering soft words of coaxing compliance where there should be command and obedience. Of course, he understood Eldberg's rationale, but there were other ways to win a woman than foolish flattery.

"I'm waiting." He arched an eyebrow.

"Rangvald, I—" She was hesitating, breathless and flustered, staring where his fist worked upon his cock.

"Do as you're told," he cut her off.

What was it with this woman? She had an answer for everything, and where was her husband or father? Strangely, he'd neither seen nor heard any man, save his jarl. Coming and going as she pleased, with no man for direction, was bound to create unruliness. Women needed men in real and tangible ways. They were oft perplexing but had roles to perform—as mothers, healers, and carers. Rangvald respected such talents, but women also needed a firm hand. Men, being both wiser and stronger, had a duty to mold them while they were young enough to learn. That was why women needed wedding—to ensure they behaved as they should.

As for himself, he was too busy to bother with the distraction and responsibility of a wife, and why should he have the annoyance when there were enough wenches willing to warm his bed furs? He saw no place for a woman at a man's side. Without a sense of submission, they were oft a source of ire. He craved the pleasure they provided and enjoyed copulation as much as the next man, but beyond that…

"I've not done this before." She glanced about as though an audience had gathered to witness them.

"No man has ever devoured you?" Rangvald found that difficult to believe.

For all that she irritated him, the wench was attractive. If she was without a husband, he'd little doubt she'd have lovers calling, and what man wouldn't relish eating from such a succulent platter?

"Not… squatting… like this." She was clearly discomforted, though did as she was bid and settled astride him. "It seems wrong..."

"Wrong?" Reaching for her hip, he dragged her lower, so the fur of her cunt brushed his lips. Craning upward, as far as the pain in his torso allowed, he breathed in her tantalizing scent. ‘Twas enough to make a man's head reel.

"Forbidden." She pressed herself closer. "Almost dangerous."

"But you like the danger." It wasn't a question. That much was obvious from the way she was tipping her hips forward. "You want me to eat you."

"Yes." Her eyes fluttered closed as she placed her palms against the wall. "Yes, I do."

"And you'll enjoy my mouth right here." Bringing his left hand upward, he reached beneath her flimsy shift, skimming the soft hair of her sex and pressing a kiss to her inner thigh. His cock swelled even harder, ready for everything she had to offer.

"Ja." Her voice rasped.

"Then get rid of this nightshift." He gave her hip a sharp squeeze.

Reaching for the hem, she tugged the garment over her head.

Rangvald took a moment to enjoy the look of her. From where he lay, he had a magnificent view of breasts ample and firm, the softness of her belly, and the inward curve of her waist. He was fortunate to have been taken in by such a comely wench.

"That's better." He placed another possessive kiss upon her thigh. "Now, you only need assent to my terms."

"Terms?" She looked down at him with knitted brows. "I don't understand."

You soon will.

"If you want pleasure, I expect something more." His injuries had forced him to supplicate for long enough. It was time she grasped what sort of man she'd brought under her roof.

"What more do you need?" Her eyes conveyed her bewilderment. Hadn't she done enough? Wasn't the care and food she'd provided sufficient? Wasn't he grateful?

The wench had served him well, but Rangvald needed more from her than nursing. He needed a submissive lover willing to defer, even while he remained weak. He required subservience.

"Address me with the appropriate level of respect." Rangvald smiled at the stunned expression on her face. It was almost as pleasing as the waft of musk from her sex. "As your meistari."

"No man has ever been the master of me!" she balked, attempting to draw away, but he clasped her hip harder.

No man? He stroked her soft skin. "Not even your husband?"

"Nay." She shook her head. "He never sought to master me. He was a kind man."

More fool him.

"Then this will be a new experience for you." Enough of Eldberg's plan; there was only so much a man could stand. He would have his way, and the wench would learn to concede.

"Acknowledge I am meistari, and I shall worship you." He murmured the words against her flesh. "Give yourself to me, and there will be pleasure the likes of which you've never known."

Rangvald was sure of one thing. No ‘kind man' could eat her the way he could. Neither could such a man fuck adequately. He'd have the wench swinging from star to star before he was through.

"You want me to call you my master?" Her expression was conflicted, but her rolling hips conveyed how much she sought gratification. There was little doubt about that. She was only unsure of how much she was prepared to do in order to claim it.

Rangvald was certain—she'd learn to give everything he demanded.

"That's right." He urged her downward until his breath stirred the hair upon her labia. "Acknowledge me as such and prepare to visit Valhalla."

"Meistari?" She sounded unsure.

Releasing her hip, he grazed across the top of her thigh, then brought his fingertips to her fur, caressing the soft strands before entering her wetness. She moaned as he located her nub and slowly circled there.

"Just one little word, Elin. Can you do that for me?" His balls contracted at the desperation in her eyes. She could comply, but would she?

"If I call you meistari, you'll use your tongue on me?"

"Ja." It sounded even better when she put it that way.

A blush heated her skin, and she looked back over her shoulder, as though worried someone might be near.

"Meistari, do as you promise. Fuck me with your mouth."

He couldn't say that he loved how she'd expressed her need, but she had done as he asked. It was a start.

"Good." He brushed his face through her hair, then flicked out his tongue to taste her, lapping at her seam. She was sweet. Delectable!

By the gods, the wench is divine!

He splayed her lips wider to accommodate his hunger—the more he tasted, the more he wanted. Burying his tongue deeper, he elicited frantic mewls before he slid to play with her sensitive bud.

Imagine what I'll do to her when I have both hands.

He was rock hard, aching for release, but was willing to forego his own pleasure… for the moment. With the wench calling him her master, a wealth of satisfaction lay ahead.

"Oh gods." She pushed herself against his mouth, her hips rocking to her own excited rhythm. "Ja, Rangvald. Ja!"

He frowned. That's not how you address me.

While leaving his tongue at work, he slid around to squeeze her arse sharply. One day soon, he'd spear all her entrances. For now, she needed chastising. He raised his palm, then brought it down abruptly upon her backside with a ringing slap.

"You struck me?" This time, when she bent toward him, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes were accusing.

"Corrected you." He smirked, wiping his mouth with the heel of his hand. His left side was weaker than his normal healthy right, but the smack had been sufficient. He'd communicated his displeasure.

"You failed to address me correctly."

"I called you meistari! Before your tongue delved into me." Her gaze narrowed, and she bit angrily at her lower lip, but they both knew she wanted more. He'd tasted her wetness—Elin longed for him.

"You will always refer to me as such." However much Rangvald enjoyed the taste of her, the real reward lay in having her defer to his will. Her submission was everything. "I am your meistari from now on."

"You are no such thing!" Evidently vexed, she leapt to her feet. "I bow to no man."

"Then you shall have nothing more." He kept his answer nonchalant. The wench would learn. Until then, she'd be left with no choice but to pleasure herself.

"I can't believe this." Hastily, she located her nightshift, clutching it to her breasts. "You've no right to make such a demand of me!"

He could almost hear the unspoken reprimand. And no right to deny me.

Recrimination flashed in her eyes as she pulled the shift over her head. Grabbing her shawl, she tightened it around her.

"I have every right." The sooner the woman learned her place, the sooner he'd grant her the favors she craved. The bargain seemed fair to Rangvald.

"You're a monster, and I've no wish to be around you." Glaring, she turned on her heel, then stalked out of the hut.

"As you wish." He returned his hand to his swollen staff, rubbing at the urgency there. His left wrist was not as efficient as his right, but it would do the job. Whatever Elin's frustration, Rangvald would have his climax.

Once replete, his thoughts turned to the one woman who'd truly meant something to him. His mother had spent her life serving men—and one in particular, braving long years as Jarl Beornwold's bed thrall. Rangvald had been obliged to stand by, despite seeing how she suffered. His hatred had grown until…

With a snarl, he pushed that sinister thought aside.

His past had shaped him in ways no one would ever know, with wounds that went far deeper than broken bones, but dwelling on it achieved nothing. However frustrating his current predicament, he trusted in Eldberg's plan.

He would snare the wench, but he would do so his way.