Page 61 of A Tale of Two Vikings

All right? What does she mean, “All right?” She cannot mean to…

Uh-oh!

She unclapsed one of her hands.

She does.

Helga bit her bottom lip nervously, then spread her cloak wide and let it drop to the floor. Tears of embarrassment glistened in her blue eyes…an indication of how difficult this disrobing was for her. She probably still suffered from the Helga the Homely misname she’d been given so long ago.

And it was a misname, because the woman who stood before him now in all her naked glory presented a picture beauteous beyond belief—to Vagn, leastways. He suspected that some men—blind dolts—might find her too tall and skinny and big-mouthed. She was taller than average for a woman and very slender, with small, almost nonexistent breasts and exceedingly long legs. Instead of being put off by her less-than-generous endowments, he found her slimness appealing. Her hair was pale gold hanging down to her hips. Her mouth, one of her greatest assets, was wide and wet from her darting tongue. Her eyes stared at him, direct with question.

“Helga, you are beautiful,” he said finally.

“I am not,” she replied. She might not like his compliments, but her breasts did. The nipples hardened and stood out like pink sentinels.

He should tell her to put her cloak back on and run fast from his bedchamber, but she had already begun the self-caressing, and he could not have stopped her now even if he wanted to, which he did not.

She traced her lips with the tips of her fingers. The fingertips of the other hand made a trail from her chin down her neck over her shoulder and down one arm.

“Helga, have you ever touched yourself before?” he choked out.

She shook her head slowly from side to side. “Am I doing it incorrectly?”

“How in the name of Thor would I know?”

She frowned. “You have ne’er played this game afore?”

“Never.” And that was the gods’ own truth.

His answer seemed to please her. With a secretive little smile, she ran the palms of both hands down her sides, over her waist and hips to her thighs, then back up to lift her small breasts from underneath.

He heard a small groaning noise and realized it came from himself. “Did Rona tell you to do that?”

“Nay, I thought of it myself.”

“Smart girl!”

She smiled again, shyly, and used both thumbs and forefingers to tease her nipples, which were large considering the size of her breasts. The whole time she gazed at him, gauging his reaction, which was formidable, if she only knew.

“I really don’t know what to do,” she confessed and let her hands drop to her sides. She was panting lightly at her own self-arousal, but probably was unaware of what she had done to herself.

“You are doing fine so far,” he said. “Just imagine as you touch yourself that it is me touching you.”

“I already am.”

His manpart jerked. Oh, Helga, you divulge too much. I will use that information against you in some way, I guarantee it. “Come closer so I can see better,” he suggested.

She stepped to the side of the bed so that she stood between him and the hearth. Her body was backlit by the fire, which still blazed warmly, painting her with hues of red and gold.

“Spread your legs.”

She did.

“Wider.”

She did, but he could tell she was uncomfortable standing thus.

Who cares! I like it. “Look down at your woman fleece, Helga. The curls glisten like gold. Are you wet there?” Her eyes shot upward to meet his with shock. “Touch yourself and see.”