He dries my feet, first one then the other. Moving up my legs, he sends tingles running through every nerve. I’ve never been tended like this. Never had a man on his knees in front of me. Most men would find it humiliating to kneel for a woman, but not Ari. My flower blooms slowly to his touch. He stops at my knees.
“You should dry yourself,” he says without looking up at me.
“Plea…” I hesitate, every honorable custom says I should stop him, do it myself. “Please, continue,” I whisper.
His hand slips under the kirtle without lifting it. His fingers move in firm strokes, massaging my flesh. Wincing as he reaches a sore spot, I hide my pain, not wanting him to stop. He works his way up my thigh, staying on the outside, careful not to reach the sensitive skin between my legs. My breathing grows heavy. I would be lying if I said I didn’t want him to rub the inside as well.
His movements are soft, yet purposeful. It’s an intimate act without being colored by sexual expectation. A warm vibration develops beneath my belly button. A cat purring as it’s stroked. Without thinking, I place a hand on his head, closing my eyes. Engrossed in the feeling.
He arrives at my hip bone, carefully swiping it a few times before his covered hand strokes my rump. His fingers move dangerously close to my split, making me straighten my back in reaction.
I release a light gasp. He pulls away.
“Sorry,” he whispers.
“It’s… It’s okay.”
“Shall I continue?”
“Yes, please.”
He walks on his knees in front of me. I get the impulse to grab his head and push it beneath the robe. Open myself to him. My body yearns to feel him there, to let him worship at my altar. Like one would worship Freya. Let him taste me, as Ylvin said. I control my lust, again placing a shaking hand on his head as he begins drying off my other leg.
The man has a way of being powerful yet tender. A caring dominance. Without imposing. We are enjoying this shared moment as equals. We both decide. I would decide for him to take me. Ravage me. Have his way. Like Elof for Ylvin, he could be my monst?—
He arrives at my buttock. His fingers’ light grip sends shivers up my spine. A moan escapes my lips. My own sound shocks me back to reality and I cover my mouth as I step back.
“Sorry, Ari, I?—”
“No worries.”
“I don’t know what came over me.”
But I do know. I still feel it now. If I had not been so battered, so exhausted, I might have considered sharing my body with him, sharing his. I imagine his cock in my hand as I help him in.
Ride him, a Valkyrie on her trusted steed.
“You need sleep,” he whispers as he stands, awkwardly adjusting his leather pants. My eyes glide down there but I quickly correct them. Hopefully he didn’t notice.
“I do,” I state simply.
“Take my blanket.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course, Kilda. Lie down.”
I tuck myself under his woolen blanket. It smells musky. Strong. Without thinking, I lie on my side as I rub my face into the wool. Safe. Smells like Ari. My body calms down. The soreness between my legs dissipating. Thank the gods. I need rest.
Ari lies down on the ground, partially covered by his own fur. It’s cut to cover a man’s shoulders. Here I am using the man’s blanket because of my foolish mistake, and he’s supposed to freeze?
I open the blanket.
“Come,” I whisper.
“What?”
“We can share.”
