Page 40 of The Very Virile Viking

"No one is in trouble… exactly," she started to say, then practically jumped off the bench when he slid his arm along the back and took a strand of her raven-black hair in his fingertips. He rubbed the silky filaments sensuously. "I mean, what I'm trying to say is… uh… hmmm… uh… you've been saying and doing some things I object to, but, uh, once I set the record straight, I'm sure there will be no more, uh, trouble." She groaned softly at the end of her sputtered explanation, which was no explanation at all. She almost leaned into his palm, which was caressing her hair, then pulled back sharply, as if correcting her baser instincts.

Like a skittish mare, she was. Mayhap even a mare in heat, he thought. Skittish mare ? He was too earthy by far… or so he had been told by more than one female, usually when they were about to spread their thighs for him. His crudeness came from being a farmer, he supposed. But if there were two things he knew well and good in this world, it was women and farm animals. This woman was fighting his appeal, crude or not.

"Don't you look at me like that. Don't you dare," she said, and shuffled her rear end a bit to remove herself from his touch. Her hair slipped from his fingertips as she'd intended, and she raised her chin in challenge.

Never challenge a Viking, my dear. Never. He immediately shuffled his own rear end, closing the

distance between them. This time he slid his hand under the long skein of her hair and cupped her nape, drawing her closer. "How am I looking at you, dearling?"

"Like a horny toad about to hop my bones."

Inga called me a slimy toad. Now Angela calls me a horny toad. Next time I see a mirror I must check myself for warts. And what does she mean about hopping bones? Oh. She must mean I want to lay my body on hers and have… For a moment—only a moment— he was shocked by her blunt words. He supposed women could be earthy, too, but he was not sure he liked it. After a brief two seconds of pondering, he decided he did… in moderation. With that in mind, he chuckled and pulled her resisting body even closer. "I am not all that horny … yet. I merely want to thank you for bringing me to your home… to the Blue Dragon. It is truly a paradise."

"Do you think so?" she asked, clearly pleased at his appreciation of her beloved homestead.

He decided to take advantage of her momentary lapse in guardedness and took her by the waist, lifting her onto his lap. Angela's head came only to his shoulder. He wanted—nay, needed—to have her body parts better aligned with his.

After a surprised squeal of dismay at his quick maneuver, she squirmed and shoved and tried to escape his embrace. "What do you think you're doing?"

Oh, lady, you do not really want to know. "Thanking you. I told you that I wanted to thank you for bringing me here, and that is what I am doing."

She stopped wriggling for a second and stared at him with wide-eyed question. "This… this is your way of thanking me?"

It is a beginning. "Nay, this is," he said, and lowered his mouth to hers, softly at first, gentle and persuasive. "A thank-you kiss."

Her lips were full and slightly parted with surprise. The two of them fit together perfectly, like dovetailed pieces of wood that his brother Geirolf used in crafting his ships. Like two pieces of a cracked pottery jug, whole again. Like the age-old mold created by the gods, joining man to woman.

The air was charged, as if with sparks during a summer lightning storm. Something momentous was happening—or about to happen—and he was joyous to be part of it.

At first Angela resisted, but he held her tightly by the nape and waist. He sensed the moment of her surrender when her entire body seemed to soften and lean into his. He did not need her moan into his open mouth to know that she wanted him… perchance as much as he wanted her. Nay, his want was greater. Nothing could surpass its intensity.

He brushed his lips back and forth across hers, shaping her. Against the dewy wetness he whispered, "Thank you."

To his immense satisfaction, she reciprocated by tracing the tip of her tongue along the outline of his mouth and whispered back, ever so softly, "You're welcome."

Well, he was a Viking, and he was virile. Hell, he was a man. He needed no more invitation than that.

He plundered her mouth with his hot tongue, thrusting in and out, imitating the sex act itself. Instead of

foiling his efforts, she opened her mouth wider for him and put her arms around his shoulders. The whole time, she was brushing her cloth-covered breasts to and fro over his tunic-covered chest. They did not need to be bare-skinned. So heightened was their arousal that even fabric could not lessen the delicious sensations.

"Too fast," he said on a groan.

"Too slow," she said on a groan.

Everything was happening too fast, no matter what she said. Furthermore, in the back of his mind was a nagging reminder of something important that he could not for the life of him recall now. Besides, with her words of encouragement, he did not even want to think of anything that might put a damper on these spreading fires.

He lifted her by the hips so that her legs in their den-ham braies straddled his thighs, her knees on the bench. Then he adjusted her so that her buttocks rested on his thighs and her woman cleft rode the hard ridge of his manhood.

In the light of the full moon, he saw her eyes go huge with wonder. And her lips parted and stayed open on a long sigh, which then evolved into soft panting breaths.

His hands moved upward from her waist, over her tea-shert , along her rib cage. His hands remained at her sides, but, with just his thumbs, he skimmed the sides of her breasts.

She arched her back so that her head was thrown back and her breasts thrust forward. "More," she demanded huskily.

More? Any more of this love play and I will come in my breeches like an untried youthling. "More what?" he choked out, as if he did not know… as if he wanted to torture himself.

"Touch me, Magnus. Touch… me," she said, and further arched her chest at him. The action caused her crotch to move against him, and Magnus saw stars before his open eyes. By all the gods and goddesses, was he that randy, or was it this woman who brought such an instant reaction from him? He was usually able to pace himself better than this.