Page 78 of The Viking’s Captive

Tyra squirmed on his lap to get more comfortable, and Adam saw stars before him, so intense was the pleasure-pain in his groin. Good thing she could not feel him pressing against her buttocks! He did not want to shock her.

“You may resume now,” Tyra said.

“Huh? Are you speaking to me?” he asked. She must be addressing me, because Alinor is not even looking in our direction, and there has been no break in Rashid’s talking. The only thing she could be referring to is … oh, my God!

“Of course I’m speaking to you, lackwit,” she said with as much cordiality as a captain addressing a thickheaded soldier. “You may continue the finger-pleasuring game now.”

Game? She views this as a game? So much for her being shocked!

“Have I shocked you?” she asked, apparently having second thoughts.

Nay, no second thoughts permitted.“Yea, you shocked me,” he said, “in the nicest possible way.”

“Shhhh!” Ingrith, Breanne, and Drifa all hissed at the same time. They were engrossed in Rashid’s tale and wanted no chatter to distract their hearing.

And so, while Rashid told his tales of magic in an Eastern land, Adam began to weave his own form of magic.

He teased the hairs of her woman’s nest with fluttering fingers, then palmed her, rotating the heel of his hand against her. She arched her back and whimpered softly. He would have liked to touch her breasts, but that would be too open a demonstration in front of an audience. Instead, he whispered into her ear, “Open more,” and when she did, he dipped his fingers into the honey of her arousal and spread it up and down over her slick folds till he came to that bud which was the essence of a woman’s pleasure. When he touched her there, she jerked and moaned aloud.

“Is something wrong?” Alinor inquired.

He was strumming Tyra there now, and at first she was unable to speak.

“Nay, just a little indigestion,” Tyra said.

Tykir snorted his disbelief.

“You should chew on mint leaves,” Drifa offered. “That is the best thing for cramps in the abdomen.”

“I told you the pig’s liver in dill sauce was not for you,” Ingrith said huffily. She must have come back to the hall to escape Bolthor’s sagas in the scullery.

“Shhh!” someone down below protested.

Meanwhile, Adam was doing his best to contribute to her “indigestion.” Strumming, and strumming, and strumming, till the bud became bigger and harder, and the folds furled open like the petals of a flower, and the dew was hot and thick.

He was feeling rather hot and thick himself.

Sensing that she was about to reach her peak, he eased a long middle finger up inside of her, and was rewarded by the rhythmic spasm of her inner muscles welcoming him to her world. Her hands grasped his forearms in an iron grip, trying to fight the overwhelming ripples that passed through her. He would have bruises tomorrow, for a certainty … bruises that he would relish as a reminder of her sweet surrender. In the end, just before she crashed through that barrier that separates a woman from ecstasy, her knees gripped his and she put a fist to her mouth, trying to stifle her cries, but he heard, “Oh … oh … oh … for the love of Freyja! … oh!”

Then she sank into a relaxed heap of satiety.

Adam got great satisfaction out of Tyra’s pleasure … not as much as if he’d climaxed himself, but close. Her open sensuality was a delight. He never knew what to expect next from her … as was proven in the following seconds.

When her soft panting died down and she was able to speak, Tyra turned slightly to face him and asked, “When can I finger-pleasure you?”