CHAPTER SEVEN

 

Odin and Thor, she was trouble.

He had thought maybe women from the future were different, more trustworthy. They had clearly been given greater responsibility. But a small woman like her had brought one of his best warriors to his knees with just a couple of clever movements.

Sigurd was furious. At her, but mostly at himself.

He should have been more careful with her, should have just locked her up and posted guards to make sure she would not wander around the village, confusing his men, creating chaos, and distracting him.

But he had no men to spare and no time to lose.

As she stood so close to him—her eyes big, her lips full and juicy like ripe cherries begging him to kiss them, her scent enveloped him.

He’d told Geirr he’d claimed her.

Right now, he did not want anything more than to do just that. To take her, make her his, plunge into her scent like he plunged into the waters of the fjord, forget himself in her arms and find release in her depths.

Sigurd swallowed and looked up to distract himself. He needed to get her under control and get back to work on the fortress.

He walked towards the great hall and pulled her after him. “I told you not to talk to anyone.”

Donna’s eyes widened. “He came to me! He grabbed me and—”

Sigurd growled. “I told you to go to the longhouse. Just stay there. Not take a step outside.”

They arrived in his great hall, and Donna started to struggle, but he led her towards his bedchamber, ignoring the curious glances of the slaves.

When they were in his bedchamber, Donna pulled her arm from his grip and spun to face him, her eyes a blue fury in the darkness of the room.

“You are such a dictator! You have no right to tell me what to do. And what about that thing you said about claiming me? No one—you hear me—no one can claim me! I belong to myself. I claim me. I claim… ”

Sigurd did not know half of what she was talking about. Dictator? What was that?

“I have every right to do anything I see fit with you. You are under my protection.”

Donna scowled and crossed her arms. Freyja and Frigg, her lips looked so kissable right now.

“Make yourself useful and help with cooking and cleaning, like I told you.”

Her chin rose. “And warming your bed?”

He swallowed and glanced at the object in question, which was full of soft furs and so inviting. “And warming my bed.”

Donna drew in a sharp breath. “You can forget it.”

Sigurd took a step towards her. Would she fight him in everything? “I don’t think that I can.” His hand rose to her face and he traced the gentle curve of her cheek.

Her skin felt like that of a goddess. No woman he had ever met had skin like that. Her sweet lips parted slightly at his touch. She could say whatever she wanted, but she was affected as much as he was.

Before the voice in his head could roar at him to stop and walk out, he lowered his head towards her. He needed to claim her, Sigurd said to himself, before she could create more havoc.

But he knew it was just an excuse.

The real reason was this.

His lips touched hers, and she welcomed him as if he was a long-lost part of her. She moaned, barely audible, and her body pressed against him. He breathed her in, his tongue ravishing hers, the sweet taste of her mouth making him crave her even more.

He picked her up and carried her to the bed. He sat on the edge and placed her on his lap, turning her so that her legs wrapped around his hips. Her body pressed against his, her soft breasts and belly—her heat against his. Their eyes locked, and there was hunger in hers that mirrored his own. But also the shadow of doubt.

No, there would be none of that now. No thoughts, no questions, no hesitation.

His lips covered hers before the doubt could win her over. He tangled one hand in her hair as he let the other travel down her graceful spine, trace the hemisphere of her backside and move down her thigh, before slipping under the hem of her dress where it had gathered right above her knees. His fingers glided along her smooth skin.

She felt like a goddess, but he knew now that she was just a woman…and what a willful woman she was. He rolled her hair on his fist and pulled her head back a little, exposing her graceful neck to his mouth. He kissed it, devouring every inch of the skin. Then he reached a spot just below her ear, bit it gently, and Donna gave a throaty cry of pleasure. She was strangely connected to him. He did not know how, but he felt what she wanted, what would make her feel good.

And he was happy to oblige.

Sigurd’s hands slid under her hips, supporting her, and he rose up with her. He turned to the bed and threw Donna on it, joining her right after. Her lips were full, her mouth parted, her eyes half-closed. Sigurd leaned over her with his arms straight, pushing against the mattress at each side of her shoulders. He knelt between her legs. She gasped a little, her legs spread, at his mercy. She bit her lip, and her head rolled back slightly, their eyes still locked. Sigurd lowered himself to her, pinning her to the mattress. He grasped her wrists in one hand, pulling her arms above her head, wanting to finish what they’d started that morning.

Donna wriggled a little, rubbing herself against him. He kissed her again, and she moaned against his mouth.

Sigurd was pressed against her completely now, throbbing and hard, at her hot entrance. His mouth found hers and devoured her. Her body began grinding itself shamelessly against his.

Sigurd undid her brooches and ran his hand down her leg, then returned to the hem of the dress. He lifted for a moment, pulling her dress over her head and off. Her milky white body lay before him, her full breasts, delicate waist, round hips. Her skin…oh her skin… And the triangle of light-brown hair between her thighs.

Sigurd groaned. And then he was surprised to feel her hands on his waist, pulling at his tunic and trying to raise it up.

He glanced at her, and she whispered, “Why should you do all the work?”

The tunic flew to the floor. Then her fingers reached for the rope tying his trousers together and touched the skin on his stomach, so close to his erection. Both electricity and a jolt of panic shot through Sigurd, and his cock jerked. He never allowed a bedmate to give him oral pleasure. He just could not give a woman that control over him. He needed to be careful. What was she going to do?

Her fingers touched him. Intense pleasure spread through him. Sigurd clenched his fists and had to call on all his strength to not throw himself on her and take her. He let her explore his length, play with it, but he would not last long. Did she even know how wild she made him feel?

Donna looked up at him and licked her lips, making a movement to go down, but alarm shot through him, and his hands gripped hers. She blinked in surprise, and he put her palms back on his chest.

He imagined his shaft in her mouth, her tongue teasing him, sliding up and down, and he hardened even more.

But he wouldn’t allow it. This is what it always would be. A fantasy.

He pushed her further back along the bed, pressing his body over hers and nudging her legs further open as he trailed hot kisses along her neck.

He pulled back slightly before sliding into her slowly, watching her. She was so sleek and hot, so tight. Her head rolled back as he drove into her inch by inch, and she gave a low moan of pleasure. Freyr, she was so beautiful it was hard to believe she was mortal.

When he was fully encased in her tight core, he had a strange feeling of being home. If he had not been so turned on, he’d have stopped. But he could not.

The only thing he could do was move.

He plunged into her and pulled back, slowly at first, then faster. Her legs wrapped around his waist, bringing him impossibly close, making him feel as if they were one.

She moaned and cried and begged for him not to stop, to never stop.

“I do not intend to,” he groaned.

He took her nipple in his mouth and sucked, and she arched her back to give him better access.

He moved faster and faster, knowing his release would come soon and not wanting it to. But she was close, too.

With a few final hard thrusts, he felt her insides quiver, and she breathed quickly, erratically, and gave out the sweetest cries of ecstasy. She sent him over the edge, and he spilled in her, making her truly his.

As he collapsed on her after the most intense orgasm of his life, Sigurd felt their chests rise and fall in unison and her silky body in his arms. And for the first time he did not want to let a woman go.