Page 67 of The Very Virile Viking

"Nay, not nearly enough." Magnus had never been much into sex games. Simple lovemaking was his style, and it had sufficed well over the years. But it was so very important that he please Angela. He would do anything, try anything to make their time together memorable… for as long as they might have.

He hoped he wasn't trying too hard. "Now be still, dearling, and ponder over what I will do next. I will be back shortly."

"But… but…"

With that, Magnus left the bedchamber and headed for the bathing chamber, where he intended to take a cold shower—or spill his own seed… anything to slow down his arousal for this love game he had started. In the meantime it would be good for Angela to anticipate what would come next.

Not that he knew what that would be.

He hoped she didn't fall asleep waiting.

Chapter Eleven

Let the games begin…

Angela was in the dark… in more ways than one.

Magnus had been gone for what seemed like a long time. She'd heard the shower running, but that had ended at least fifteen minutes ago… though it was hard to judge time with her eyes blindfolded.

He had been right about one thing, though: cutting off her vision had indeed heightened her other senses.

She was more aware of her own body than if she'd been looking in a mirror or touching herself. Where did that latter thought come from ? Fine hairs stood out all over her skin. Her nipples were turgid and upright; she knew that without seeing them, because they literally ached for touch—Magnus's touch… or his mouth. Hot liquid pooled between her legs at the image in her mind, and she squirmed restlessly on the bed.

"Magnus," she whispered, sensing his presence in the room. Yes, she could smell the pungent scent of Irish Spring soap. And she could swear she felt his body heat as he drew closer.

"Yea, sweetling, I am back. Did you miss me?"

Is that a trick question? She nodded.

"Speechless, are you? Now, that is a wonder."

"Are you mocking me?"

"Nay, just gazing at your body… and wondering where to begin. Do you have any preferences?"

Man, oh, man, is that a loaded question? "Come lie down beside me. I want to feel your body heat."

He did as she asked, placing himself on his side, up against her, very close. She imagined his head was propped on one hand. She could feel a hard part of him prodding her hip. "Are you cold?"

She laughed. "Are you kidding? I'm hot, hot, hot."

He laughed, too, a low, throaty chuckle. Then he placed one hand gently on the side of her neck and leaned down to kiss her.

She whimpered at that mere whisper of a caress, so needy was she already for his touch.

His lips moved over hers, persuading her to open for him. Then his tongue delved inside, exploring her moistness before stroking in and out with carnal hunger. The kiss went on forever, employing both hard and soft lips; tongue; and teeth, till Angela's whimper became a continuous vocal moan of arousal.

Only then did he move to new territory.

He stroked her shaven armpits and kissed her there… first one side, then the other. "I like the way women in your land are clean-shaven here, and on your legs. It makes you different from us men, as if there are not enough differences." His lips tickled, and she shivered with pleasure. "And you smell good, too."

Thank goodness for Lady Speed Stick.

He touched the tips of her breasts with the tips of his fingers, and she arched upward at the sheer ecstasy. For a long time he fondled her breasts, teasing them to a throbbing ache, till finally she moaned, "Please."

"Please what, dearling?" he replied, his warm breath blowing on one distended nipple.

He knew what she wanted. He knew, but he was going to force her to say it.