Ainslin reeled under the onslaught of Torsten’s lips, too giddied by his tongue’s slow exploration of her mouth to gnaw at the worry plaguing her mind. She tiptoed to absorb more of him, her breasts grazing the planes and hollows of his ribcage. She clenched his arms when he licked the ridge of her teeth.
His skin exuded heat, and she whimpered when his palms massaged her rear end. He rubbed against her, his weeping cock dampening her belly. Warm curls of steam wrapped around her legs.
He stoked a fire deep inside her and she clung to him, linking her arms around his neck.
“Ainslin.” He pressed hot, wet kisses along her throat.
“Torsten,” she moaned when a whirlwind of sensation shivered up her spine and her womanhood grew slick.
His hand slipped between her thighs, one finger sliding up and down her folds.
Her inner walls clenched when his finger probed her entrance.
A ferocious growl erupted from him, and he tore away from her, panting. He snarled a few Norse words she did not understand, but the scowl writ upon his face made her flinch.
What had she done wrong?
“Nay, wife. Do not shrink from me. ’Tis angry I am at myself. You are tender and swollen and I will not take you again this eve.” He shot her a sheepish grin and a dimple dented one cheek. His pecker twitched against her pelvis. “As I mentioned before, my prick oftentimes has a mind of its own.”
The world tipped when he swept her off her feet, and in one stride they were in the water. Soothing waves created by his bulk lapped at her bottom and tickled the undersides of her breasts. He made for a large boulder that breached the spring’s surface, and set her atop its flat surface, arranging her so her legs dangled over the rock’s sides.
When he eased her thighs wider apart, she cringed and could not look at him. If he glanced down he would see her woman parts, what he called her puss.
Torsten chuckled, he snagged her jaw. “To me, wife. You blush from head to toe. Why?”
“Why? You ask why? ’Tis not seemly for you to see me thus exposed. I am cert ’tis sinful. Mayhap even a mortal sin.” Indignant that he had the boldness to ask such a question, she folded her arms.
“Naught that we do alone together is wrong, Ainslin. Have not your priests taken vows of chastity? How can one who has never joined with a woman know what is wrong or right or sinful ’tween a man and his wife?” He combed her curls with his fingers, the gentle strokes both comforting and cherishing.
Ainslin had never heard anyone question the church’s teachings. Yet, his words made sense. Priests did take vows of chastity. She chewed on her lip and considered his reasoning. “It feels wicked for you to see me there.”
“Wicked and pleasurable?” he prompted.
“Aye.” And thrilling and exciting.
“I make you a bargain then, sweetling. If anything I do or say upsets or disturbs you, then I will do so no more, but if what I do or say brings you pleasure, then you must give me the right to do so again.” He cocked a brow and grinned down at her.
Remembering the ecstasy he had rained on her with his mouth and hands, she did not hesitate. “I do so give you leave.”
“Then lie back, wife, and let me feast. For you are a banquet to me.” He bent to her and sipped at her lips, his tongue teased them apart, and dipped inside. Ever so slowly, he licked and explored, and suckled. She leaned into him and opened more for him giving him free reign to do as he would.
Blazing heat blossomed inside her, and she grew drunk on his carnal kissing. Sensation after sensation plowed through her when he nipped the tip of her tongue. No longer able to think, she latched her arms around his neck, and scraped her tits against his ribs. Her nipples stiffened and the coarse hairs dusting his upper torso abraded the tips so they burned.
When he moved his mouth to her throat, she moaned.
“Lie back on the rock, elska. Relax and close your eyes.”
He helped her to settle against the smooth boulder and set his lips to the pulse beating in the center of her clavicle.
“’Tis pleasurable for me to taste you here?”
“Aye. Aye,” she mewled.
Bliss, sheer bliss, the tickling of his soft mouth as he tasted the slope of her breast. She shivered when his tongue flicked the tip of her bud. “And here—’tis pleasurable for me to lick you here?”
“Aye. More,” she begged.
He suckled her tits and the heaven of his hot mouth laving and abrading her flesh near had her swooning with pleasure.
Warm breath fluttered over her skin when he trailed wet kisses over her ribs and down to her navel. He licked around the circle of her belly button and when he dipped inside, she arched her hips in a silent plea for more.
“You enjoy that, wife.” He peeked up at her from his chin perched on her hip, his gray eyes glinting with wicked intent.
He nuzzled her stomach and nosed his way down her pelvis.
“Your skin is like the finest silk. Here you taste of your woman’s musk.” He caught a clump of her woman’s curls between his teeth and tugged slightly.
The slight sting had chill bumps prickling her nape, and the pink areolae of her breast.
When he brushed two fingers down the center of her sex, she gawked at him, at the contrast between his bronzed arms and her pale thighs.
“Here.” He set his thumb to the hooded flesh at the apex of her womanly parts and twirled his forefinger over her damp flesh. “Here is your honey. Pure nectar from the gods.”
He inserted two fingers into her core, and she gaped when he pumped a few times, and then withdrew and brought the slick digits to his nose. “Nectar.”
With that he slurped her honey noisily.
“Torsten, you must not—”
“Hush, elska. I must. I crave to taste your puss, to drink your nectar.” He nuzzled her sex, moving his head from side to side and lapping at her honey.
Fear and excitement caught at her throat when he parted her folds with his hands, and pressed a kiss to the sensitive nubbin guarding her core. When he took the tingling button between his teeth and gently bit down, she screamed, “Aye.”
Bereft when his weight lifted off her, she opened her eyes, and looked down. Oh, the wickedness of his dark head resting between her thighs. His charcoal eyes glistened with mischief, and he crooked a brow. “Aye? ’Tis pleasurable for me to kiss, and lick, and bite you here?”
“Oh. Aye and aye and aye again.” She boosted her drenched flesh closer to his wonderfully, wicked mouth.
“Mayhap, now I can lick the wound I inflicted earlier better, heh?” Then he grinned, a grin so self-satisfied and smug and all male, that she near exploded with desire.
“’Tis the place I injured?” he queried, sipping at her folds.
“Nay—mayhap here?” He lapped at the juncture of her leg and her womanhood.
Ainslin rested on her elbows, shock draining the blood to her sex at the sight of his raven black hair teasing her thighs, his lips suckling her swollen flesh. He looked up at her and smiled when he saw her slack-jawed reaction.
“Nay, ’tis not right.” When he spoke, the sound rumbled to her core, his hot breath sailed over her slickened folds, and her eyes closed when his mouth firmed around her secret bud.
His tongue swirled over and over the pulsing nub. Ainslin arched her hips in a silent and desperate plea for more pressure, more exquisite sensation. His teeth scored her nubbin lightly.
The walls of her sheath contracted, the ache inside unbearable. Her legs crossed on his back, and when he nipped the bud hard, she crested. Her bottom wrenched off the rock, and she tangled her fingers in his hair, holding his head fast to her puss.
Giddied, consumed by the ecstasy he’d wrung from her. She went limp and her bones felt all wobbly. When he moved to lay his cheek on her stomach, she relished his heaviness, grateful for the comfort of his bulk. He slipped his arms around her waist, rolled onto his back, and gathered her close on top of him. His hands glided over her spine, the rhythmic caresses gentle and calming.
Gradually, her panting slowed. She lifted eyelids more weighty than the boulder on which she rested, and her clasp on his shoulders loosened. He hauled her off the boulder, strode to shallower waters, and sat with her on his lap.
“Your honey is sweeter than the finest nectar,” he murmured and brushed his lips over hers, sliding his tongue over the seam of her mouth, dipping inside to touch the tips together.
Ainslin couldn’t absorb it all, too dizzy from her explosive peak to think.
Breaking the tender kiss, he met her glazed stare, a golden twinkle from the hanging lamp glinting in his gray eyes. “I fear I did not find the injury to soothe, Ainslin, so I must needs try again.”
She squeaked.
Dawn neared when Torsten carried her back to the bed in the lodge.
Her scattered thoughts gathered as memories alighted from their time in the bathhouse. Never would she have imagined the things they did. The cock that had frightened her mere hours before had now become an obsession.
He settled alongside her on the mattress, shifting her so she rested on his ribcage, and he toyed with her hair. “Ask your questions, Ainslin. We are man and wife now, and I will have no secrets between us, and no unanswered queries. ’Tis plain you did not know the intricacies of bedsport.”
Ainslin’s eyes narrowed and she raised her head. “You read minds as well?”
“As well as what?”
His broad grin did not amuse her.
“Ah, I see from the rosy hue of your cheeks what you think. You needs know more about me kissing your puss better. ’Tis a pleasure practiced by many.”
Her face grew warmer. “My mother died before I was of an age to learn about…”
She swallowed, resolved not to waver, jutted her nose, and continued. “To tell me of bedsport.”
“Elska, your face tells every thought.” He reached between her legs and cupped her mound. “’Tis termed a puss oftentimes, when warriors converse.”
Capturing her hand, he curled her fingers around his cock. “’Tis a pecker, a willie, a shaft, a prick, a cock.”
“I know that one,” she protested. His pecker thickened. “And does it never get tired?”
“Nay.” His snow-white teeth glistened when his grin widened. “But you do.”
He touched the tip of her nose. “Thus, now we sleep.”
To her utter surprise, he untangled her fingers from his willie, and urged her with his palm against her face to press her cheek to his hard chest. She listened to the steady beat of his heart and, when he placed her bent leg over his groin, snuggled closer to his warmth. Cocooned in the shelter of his embrace, she blew out a satisfied sigh, and closed her eyes.
While she counted her marriage to Hadrain a happy one, for he had loved her like a daughter, never could she have imagined the rapture Torsten had shown her last night and this morn. As was her routine before preparing to slumber, she asked God to keep Brom and Rod hale and harbored, added another fervent prayer for Torsten’s health and safety, and begged the lord to help her keep him happy for as long as they both lived.