The rest of the evening passed in a blur of activity. It was full of food, good wishes for their future, Elswyth pretending not to hear the many jests regarding their wedding night and drinking the special honeyed mead that had been prepared for them. Finally, although many people were still feasting around them, Rolfe put his arm around her and pulled her to his side to whisper, ‘I can’t wait any longer, Saxon. Are you ready for bed?’
She knew what he was really asking. The truth was plain in the way his eyes burned into her. At some point during the evening her nerves had given way to anticipation. Oh, the nervousness was still present, but excitement burned hotter. Admiring the comely bow of his lips, she said, ‘Aye, I’m ready.’
Rolfe rose and pulled her to her feet, causing another exasperating cheer to go up through the hall, nearly shaking the rafters. She was confused when six men, including Lord Vidar and Aevir, followed them to the stairs. There had been no visible signal so she could only assume that the six had been predetermined, but no one had told her to expect this part. Squeezing Rolfe’s fingers tighter, she wrapped her other hand around his upper arm. He gave her a smile that she was sure was meant to reassure her, but it was too wolfish to help.
The men followed them right up to Rolfe’s chamber, where he paused only to swing her up into his arms and carry her over the threshold. Thank goodness he kicked the door behind them, blocking everyone else out, even Wyborn.
As she slid down his body, Rolfe reached back to secure the door, ensuring their privacy. ‘Do you need time to prepare yourself, Wife?’ The way his arm kept tight around her waist coupled with the look on his face told her that he might give her time, but it wouldn’t be much. The blue of his eyes had deepened to almost the same midnight hue of his tunic.
‘Nay.’ Her whisper was so low she couldn’t be certain that he’d heard her, so she gave a quick shake of her head to make sure.
‘You’re so beautiful. All night I’ve only been able to think how lucky I am.’ He touched her cheek, her hair, his palm eventually moving down the long sleeve of her linen underdress. The heat from his touch nearly scorched her through the material.
‘Will they stay at the door until...until...?’ She couldn’t bring herself to say it.
He nodded. ‘The ceremony is useful, but we’re not truly married until we drink the honeyed mead and I spend my seed inside you. Should the validity of the marriage ever be questioned, and there’s a good chance it might, we need witnesses to stand up for us.’
God knew she didn’t want to tempt fate and have them actually wait inside the chamber while the deed was done, but curiosity wouldn’t allow the question to go unasked. ‘But how will they know the deed is done?’
He grinned a grin that was full of sin and need. ‘The walls are thin and there are sounds that...’ Swallowing visibly, he said, ‘I think things will become apparent as they happen.’
She nodded, satisfied with that for now. Having her curiosity sated only allowed her earlier misgivings to return. ‘I’m sorry I have nothing for you.’ Nerves coupled with the shame of coming to him in such a humble wedding ceremony made her start to babble. ‘Lady Gwendolyn told me about the usual custom of gifting you with a sword. I don’t even have a proper dowry.’
‘I don’t care about those things.’ His voice was gentle and deep as his fingers came to rest on her jaw, slowly lifting her face so that she met his gaze. ‘Jarl Vidar gave me the choice of any woman. I chose you because I want you, not because I want the things you can give me.’
‘Are you saying that I should be grateful to have been chosen by you?’ Seizing on his words, she attempted to bring levity to the moment and gave a curtsy. ‘Thank you, oh, Lord Dane, for choosing such a humble wife.’
He chuckled and tickled her waist to make her straighten. It worked and she laughed as he hauled her back into his arms. ‘Why do I think I might long for the missed opportunity to have chosen a biddable wife?’
‘You won’t. You’d get bored with biddable.’
‘I would,’ he agreed, his eyes already losing the humour that sparkled within them. ‘Kiss me,’ he said.
His mouth was only a breath from hers so it was no trouble to lean forward and close the gap. He quickly took control of the kiss, covering her mouth with his and gently scraping her bottom lip with the edge of his teeth. She gasped at the sensation and he took advantage, thrusting the tip of his tongue against hers. The sensual stroke made her body come alive as his earlier kisses had, only this time her reaction was more intense because she knew there would be no stopping. Heat raced through her core, throbbing deep down inside her.
His hand moved from her waist, up her ribcage, to mould itself against her breast. Her flesh filled his palm briefly before he cupped the weight, allowing his thumb to stroke over the tip. Her nipple pebbled in response, her entire breast seeming to swell as it ached for more of his attention. But he kept his touch slow and leisurely, continuing his tender assault of her mouth while his thumb moved in a teasing circle around the tip of her breast. When she arched against him, silently pleading for more of his touch, he moved his attention to her other breast, teasing that nipple until it, too, ached for more of his touch.
‘More, Rolfe.’ Without meaning to, her hips pushed against him and she grasped at the back of his tunic, wanting to get beneath it and feel the heat from his skin against her own.
He drew back to look at her and the admiration shining down at her was enough to take her breath away. He moved slowly and deliberately, as if he was afraid he would frighten her, to work the brooches at her shoulders, unfastening one and then the other until her overdress dropped to the floor with a swishing sound. She stepped out of the slippers she wore and kicked the dress away, watching as his long and graceful fingers went to remove his own tunic. He tossed it towards the trunk at the end of his bed and moved to sit down on the edge of the bed, working at the fastenings of his boots. His fingers shook a little.
‘I’ll help you.’ She moved to kneel before him and together they worked to rid him of his boots. When they’d both been set aside, her hands went to the hem of his under-tunic and she lifted it over his head. She tossed it over her shoulder, but had no idea where it landed. All she knew was that he was perfect and she allowed herself a moment to appreciate his singular male beauty.
His chest was lightly furred with dark blond hair and his skin had a golden sheen that she assumed he’d acquired from going without an under-tunic and tunic over the summer. She’d itched to touch it ever since she’d attended him in his bath. The two candles that were lit caressed him in equal parts shadow and light, revealing the strong lines and sculpted curves of his muscled torso.
‘You can touch me.’ He was grinning at her, drawing her into the space between his knees.
She moved reverently, almost afraid to claim that which was now hers. His skin was warm and supple beneath her palm when she finally made contact. Slowly, she allowed her hand to move down over his solid chest, his hard nipples and down farther to the ridged planes of his stomach. She would have gone even lower, but when her fingertips touched the waist of his trousers he stopped her by grabbing her wrists. She looked at him in question and he shook his head. ‘Not yet. By the gods, if you touch me there I won’t trust myself.’ He kept his smile, but the fierce need in his eyes made her gulp. It wasn’t fear as much as anticipation that coursed through her heated blood.
‘Take off your dress.’ He stared down at her body as if willing himself to be able to see through the material.
Setting back on her knees, she wrestled with the hem of the billowy dress and slowly pulled it up. There was a brief moment when fear kept her still, but she wanted to go further and she even wanted him to look upon her as she had looked upon him. Hoping it would increase his pleasure, she pulled it over her head and tossed it behind her, leaving her in only her winter leggings.
‘So beautiful,’ he whispered, bringing his hand up between them to touch her as he had earlier when she’d been clothed. Only this time there was nothing between his fingers and her breast, so the pleasure was more intense. His fingertips and palms were hardened from years of sword work and battle, but the coarse touch only seemed to please her. His fingers rasped against her tender skin, making her ache as he plucked at her nipples.
A soft groan escaped her, prompting him to say, ‘Come.’ His hand went to the small of her back, lifting her up on to her knees and pulling her towards him as he dipped his head down. Before she fully realised his intent, he took her nipple deep into his mouth, the rough and silky stroke of his tongue laving her. So this is what he meant when he’d said he’d use his tongue in other places. A dart of pleasure shot straight to her core, making that place between her legs throb. She wanted something there, but she didn’t know how to say it or even what to ask him for. Instead she tangled her fingers into the dark blond hair at the back of his head and held him close, unwilling to relinquish the pleasure he was giving her for the unknown.
As he continued to suckle her, his hand moved down past the small of her back to fill itself with the generous curve of her bottom. She moaned a little in the back of her throat as the rhythmic squeezing of his palm combined with his mouth at her breast made the ache inside her seem nearly unbearable. She shifted, rubbing her thighs together to alleviate the throbbing between them, but nothing seemed to help.
His mouth finally released her and his hands moved to the fastenings of her leggings, pushing them down over her hips before helping her to stand so that she could step out of them. In but a moment she was nude and standing before him.
His admiring gaze stole over her, finally making its way up to her face where it settled on her eyes. ‘You’ve done me a great honour in becoming my wife,’ he said.
She wanted to tell him that she was the one who was honoured, but she couldn’t speak past a throat that was swollen nearly closed with emotion.
‘Lie down for me?’ His voice was textured with emotion and longing.
She nodded and moved on to the thick furs piled on the mattress. His bed was a hundred times more comfortable than the one she shared with Ellan, she thought as she settled on to her back on a fur, sinking into its warmth. He made to turn and join her, but she didn’t want to be deprived of the sight of him. ‘Can I see you first?’ When he raised a brow in question, she nodded towards his trousers, biting her lip in mild embarrassment at how forward she was being, but it was her wedding night and he made her feel like she could say anything to him.
He grinned at her and rose to stand beside the bed. Powerful and beautiful, he looked down at her as he unfastened his trousers and pushed them down his muscled thighs. Once free from the confines of the fabric, his manhood sprang upward, nearly reaching his navel. Her lips parted on a silent gasp as she stared at him. Somehow she’d never thought that part of him would be quite so large or quite so domineering. It stood there as proud as a conquering...well, as proud as a conquering Dane. She nearly laughed at her own jest, until she realised that that part of him would have to somehow work its way inside her to spend. To say that it was as thick as her wrist might be a slight exaggeration, but not by much.
He released the ties that held the bed curtains back and they closed around him, sending their world into shadowed darkness as he joined her on the bed. She pushed up on to her elbows at the same time he lowered to his knees above her. ‘Rolfe, I don’t—’ His mouth took hers in a deep and searching kiss, leaving her breathless when he pulled back to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses across her jaw and down her neck. Her skin prickled in absolute adulation to be the recipient of his attention, but she couldn’t put the sight of him from her mind.
‘I don’t think...’ Her voice trailed off. How did one properly address this? No one had told her he’d be so large. Maybe everyone had known but her.
‘Hush...’ he whispered, coming back up to take her mouth. ‘Don’t think about it yet. Lie here and let me love you. I’ll tell you when it’s time to think about that.’
‘Do you vow it?’
His easy smile against her lips somehow reassured her. ‘Aye, you have my word.’ With a gentle hand on her shoulder, he pushed her lightly until she relented and laid back. Then his hand trailed from her shoulder to her breast and down farther to ease over her belly. His mouth followed, trailing hot kisses over her skin. When he stopped to lavish each of her nipples with attention, she closed her eyes and sank her fingers into the silk of his hair. With his mouth working over her, it was easy to forget the coming invasion and even the men waiting outside their door to listen as the deed was done. In the dark cocoon of their bed, there was only the pleasure he was giving her.
Much to her surprise, his mouth moved even lower, past her breasts, scaling over her stomach as his arm skilfully moved under her thigh, sending it farther across the bed so that he could slip between her legs. She stiffened, but he didn’t take his mouth from her, moving down to her hip and then her thigh, shifting lower so that he could kiss the inside of her knee. Rotating her slightly, he let his tongue dip into the sensitive crevice behind her knee. She relaxed immediately as the slick pleasure of the caress. It wasn’t until he was pushing her thighs farther apart that she realised he’d worked his way upwards, settling his shoulders between her thighs.
He placed a kiss on the dark curls guarding the mound of her womanhood. ‘Rolfe!’ He did it again, this time letting his tongue dip out to touch her. ‘That’s wicked.’ Remembering his comment about the thin walls, she was sure to keep her voice very low.
‘It’s not. I’m your husband. Nothing we do together in this bed is wicked.’
She couldn’t think of an immediate response and he’d spoken so loudly she was certain the men had heard. She’d never be able to face anyone tomorrow if they guessed what he was doing to her now.
‘How does that feel?’ he asked. When he repeated the action, he pressed deeper, his tongue penetrating the folds to the tender and throbbing flesh beneath. How did one answer that? There were no words to convey how the slick and rough slide of his tongue against an area so intimate she didn’t even have a name for it felt. Instead of answering with words, she settled for an incomprehensible sound that she hoped he took for aye. He couldn’t possibly mistake how her thighs fell open to welcome him.
With a soft laugh, he renewed his attack on her body. His fingers held her open, so that his tongue could swipe out in slow and lazy glides against her aching flesh. She didn’t mean to, but she bucked beneath him in response, somehow needing more of that delicious stroke. Her thighs fell open even wider and her fingers curled in his hair to hold him against her. His attack became less lazy and more focused. His tongue swirled around the aching nub, giving her just the right amount of pressure, but somehow not enough all at the same time. She needed more...of something.
Then his finger stroked her as he continued to lick her, the coarse pad moving through her wetness and pressing inside. She moaned when he filled her with it and retreated, only to press inside again. The rhythm was mesmerising and she moved with it, seeking even more. Much to her delight, another finger quickly joined the first, stretching her, leaving her feeling deliciously full of him.
He growled against her flesh as he pleasured her. ‘Come apart for me, Saxon. I want to taste your pleasure.’ That harsh and raspy command was her undoing. Combined with the steady rhythm of his fingers and tongue against that swollen nub, she felt a tidal wave of pleasure cresting over her. It took her over completely, making her body tighten and pulse, trembling around his fingers where they pressed so deeply inside her.
Delicious tremors were still pounding through her as he moved smoothly up her body to hold himself just over her with his weight on his right arm. His hips settled into the cradle of hers and she felt the broad tip of his manhood pressing against her.
‘Now,’ he whispered against her lips and she tasted pleasure on him. ‘Now I must come inside you.’
She nodded, but she wasn’t as afraid as she might have been without the pleasure still coursing through her and weighting her limbs. Her arms went around his shoulders to hold him close and fit herself against him. Distantly, she heard his gasp as he pushed inside her a little. The fit was tight and it burned a bit as he stretched her, but at the same time she wanted more of him, wanted to be as close to him as she could get. She could feel her channel grasping at him and he must have, too, because he groaned in the back of his throat and pressed forward. Pulling back a little, he thrust forward again. In the little bit of light that seeped in around the curtain she could tell his face looked pained.
‘Only a little further,’ he whispered.
She wasn’t certain what he meant until he retreated, only to thrust until he was fully seated within her. She couldn’t help the little cry she gave and he immediately tried to soothe her, his lips brushing across her temple and whispering tender words. A hand came to her breast, his thumb strumming over the nipple.
She felt completely full of him, but after a moment of his careful attention, a tug of longing began where they were joined, an echo of the pleasure he’d given her. She shifted, testing the tight fit.
‘I can’t wait any more.’ His voice sounded pained.
She realised that he was asking for permission to continue. ‘Aye,’ she whispered, wanting to give him the same pleasure he had given her. The pain had receded to discomfort, aided by the tremors that still occasionally shook her.
He moved his hips and she was surprised at the pleasant sensation. It wasn’t nearly as intense as that he’d given her before, but it made her want more. She lifted her hips to meet his motion and he made a harsh sound, his hand moving to her hip to stay her.
‘Don’t move or I’ll spend now. I want to make it good for you again,’ he whispered as he rocked his hips against hers.
Spending now didn’t seem like a bad thing to her. The entire point of this was to get him to spend, but his strong hand on her hip kept her in place. So instead of moving her hips, she clenched her inner muscles, tightening around his thick manhood where it was buried deep inside her, testing her ability to give him pleasure.
‘Ah, Saxon!’ He made a low, groaning sound deep in his chest and said something harsh in his language that she didn’t understand. As if he had no control, his hips bucked against her and he took her with an intensity that stole her breath away. Aching to get even closer to him, she tightened her arms around him and wrapped her legs around his thighs. With his face buried in her hair, he gave a deep guttural cry as he found his release, pumping his hips in a few last desperate thrusts as he spilled his seed. His voice was so loud and deep, so unmistakably filled with male satisfaction, that she knew that’s what the men outside had been waiting for.
She kept holding him when he fell over her, in awe of the power she had over him and the wonderful thing that had happened between them. She’d never dreamed that such pleasure was possible. It seemed like sorcery. As his body shook with leftover tremors, much like her own had, she buried her face against his chest and stroked the hair at the back of his neck. Fate had given her a gift in the form of Rolfe and she never wanted to let him go.