Page 114 of A Tale of Two Vikings

He bit at her earlobe and stuck the tip of his tongue inside, which caused her whole body to tense up with a fierce spasm of pleasure. “Let me do that again when my finger is inside you,” he said.

And he did.

And she went absolutely rigid, fighting the erotic ripples that passed over her entire body.

“Relax, sweetling.”

“Hah! As if that’s possible. Let me up. I want to go back to the bed where I can see you.”

“Not yet, sweetling. Not quite yet.”

His fingers were doing incredible things between her legs, and his hips were bucking against her from behind.

“Put your face on the furs and fold your arms above your head,” he directed.

Which would place her buttocks in the air. “I…don’t…think…so.”

“Please.”

Oh, that is just wonderful. Now he pulls the please ploy. Now I will never be able to resist him. She put her face down, though she was still on her knees, and even let him spread her legs wider. She was about to protest this horribly vulnerable position, and she was beginning to doubt that it was a favorite of women when Toste entered her woman’s channel from behind. She might have screamed—she wasn’t sure—at the shock of his filling her and going in even farther than he had before—not to mention the shock of her peaking suddenly with hard, clasping grasps on his staff. It was wonderful and humiliating at the same time.

“By the saints, what are you doing to me?” she whimpered.

“Making love.”

And then he began to thrust in and out of her, while at the same time strumming the bud which seemed to be the center of a woman’s pleasure. She peaked again.

And he stopped, imbedded in her. Even farther than before. Even wider.

“Don’t you dare stop now,” she gasped out.

“Shhh,” he said and began massaging her breasts with wide-sweeping, kneading motions till the nipples felt like points against his palms.

“You are torturing me,” she wailed.

“Good torture or bad torture?”

“I do not know,” she cried, then bucked her bottom upward to try to get him to resume his thrusts.

He did, so long and slow she wanted to scream in frustration. Mayhap she did. Her mind was roiling with emotion. She was beyond knowing what she was doing.

He put one hand on the back of her neck to hold her down, and plunged wildly into her now, so hard and fast that it was hard for her to distinguish pain from pleasure. Nay, it was pleasure…hard pleasure. And he was mimicking his thrusts with a matching flick-flick-flick of his fingertips against her woman-bud.

She peaked and peaked and peaked then as he plunged into her one last time, hard and deep. Her convulsing woman’s channel and throbbing woman-bud brought her the most intense, unending pleasure. Almost too much pleasure to bear.

She collapsed on the floor, and he fell on top of her. For several long moments, neither of them spoke. They couldn’t.

When she finally rolled over on her back and gazed up at Toste, she saw the stunned look on his face. So this thing that happened between them was not a common occurrence.

Without saying a word, he carried her to the bed and lay down with her. He tucked her into his embrace with her face on his chest and pulled another fur pelt over them.

In that moment, Esme realized something awful. She had fallen in love with her captor.

A crazy little thing called love…

Toste stayed awake, shocked to the core by a realization that had struck him of a sudden. He had fallen in love with his captive.

Heart, soul, everything.