Page 66 of Viking in Love

“Vigorous?”

Exactly. “If you insist.”

He was smiling down at her, and, oh, the lout had a smile that would tempt a saint. “Like this?” He traced the outline of her lips with his tongue and murmured, “Didst know you have a siren mouth?”

“I beg your pardon!” She was trying her best to be a compliant sex partner, and he insulted her!

“That was a compliment. I meant that your mouth is lush and so kissome, it draws a man, like a siren. It gives men ideas.”

“Seems to me you have ideas enough,” she huffed out. If you do not give me a chest-hair caress again, and soon, I am going to wallop you over your fool head.

He rubbed the wetness on her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. She tried to nip at it, but he pulled away just in time, his eyes crinkling with humor. When their mouths melded now, he pushed his tongue into her mouth, slowly, buried deep, then slid back out. In. Then out. In. Then out. Breanne was not too clear on the details of swiving, but she was fairly certain this rhythm matched what he would be doing to her below. All right, then. Mayhap I could give up the chest-hair caressing for tongue caressing.

Next time he thrust into her mouth, she sucked on his tongue, causing his body to jerk. But then she felt him smile against her mouth; so, she assumed she had done the right thing. Thus encouraged, she sucked some more, then tentatively tried dipping her tongue into his mouth.

He groaned.

Breanne was mentally congratulating herself as she came to understand that groans were good in bedplay. She vowed then to make the knave do a lot of groaning before the night was over.

Now, while his kiss turned lustsome, his hands were busy on other parts of her body. Her aching breasts, her buttocks, the backs of her knees. By the gods! Who knew the backs of my knees could be so sensitive to touch? Suddenly, he raised his head and said, with chagrin, “Breanne! Your eyes are open. Why?”

She liked the way his lips were a bit puffy from her kisses and his breathing was ragged. ’Twas a heady feeling, knowing she could do this to him. “I am trying to concentrate.”

“On what, pray tell?”

“Everything. You are doing so many things at once. Can you not finish one task at a time?”

“Task?” The grinning lackwit was having great fun at her expense.

“Besides, how will I know what you are doing if I cannot see?”

“Just close your eyes, sweetling, and I will tell you when there is something good to see.”

She succumbed to the forceful domination of his kisses then and only closed her eyes when he moved down her body and began to suckle at her breasts. Turns out that big breasts were not a necessity for lovemaking. Turns out big nipples were good for something.

Ribbons of heat unfurled in her as he brought her to another of those peaking things, just by fondling her breasts and dipping his talented fingers into her woman folds. She had scarce caught her breath when he whispered, “Now you can look.”

With arms levered on either side of her head, he was positioned betwixt her thighs, his phallus at her woman’s portal. “Are you ready?”

“How would I know?” she snapped.

Slowly he pushed himself inside her, only a little, then pulled out. Then, in a little more, then out again.

“You are so tight,” he grunted out. “So wonderfully tight.”

She could tell when he hit her maidenhead, but it only pinched a bit, and the pain was soon gone, replaced by the most amazing fullness. Sweat beading his forehead, he rocked in and out of her until finally he was buried to the hilt. He rested then, forehead to forehead, and asked, “Have I hurt you?”

“Just a little. Do not stop.”

He grinned. “Not a chance.”

While he rested inside her, her inner muscles stretched and shifted to accommodate his size.

“You feel like a hot velvet sheath,” he whispered. “Oh. My. God! Keep welcoming me like that.”

She had no idea she had been doing any welcoming. “It feels as if my womanparts are weeping around your hardness.”

“Your woman dew,” he explained. “Like warm honey, it is.”