Page 78 of Viking in Love

The need to touch him was overpowering. She ran her hands over his back, delighting in every knob of his spine, every supple, bunching muscle in his shoulders and upper arms, even the strong tendons in his straining neck. When his tongue pressed into her mouth, she drew on him and would not let go.

“Bre-anne! You will be the death of me.” He ground the words out between his teeth.

And myself, as well. “A good death, or a bad death?”

“A very good death, as you well know. Now, behave.” He ran the pad of his thumb over her still slick bottom lip, then kissed it off. It was not a neat kiss. How could it be, with both of them so sticky?

A sennight ago, Breanne never would have imagined all the different kinds of kisses there were, or how a mere kiss could turn her weak and wanting. “I can taste the honey on you,” she remarked when he came up for air. “And your lust.”

“Honey lust? I like it.”

“I never knew the mating could be so fun,” she told him. “I thought it was a serious, sometimes distasteful business.”

“It is for some women, and, nay, before you get the wrong idea, enjoying sex does not make you a harlot. In truth, a woman who enjoys bedplay is man’s greatest gift.”

The things this man does say! He wields charm like an erotic sword. “You are just saying that so I will not feel guilty.”

“Do you feel guilty?”

She shook her head. “Not now, but I probably will later.”

“Do not,” he urged. “We are hurting no one by being together.”

That was debatable because she sensed sure as sin that she was going to be hurt in the end.

When he stood once again, moving away from her, she sighed her disappointment.

“Miss me already, do you?” he asked.

Nothing escapes this man, I swear. “Lout!”

“But a loveable lout, am I not?”

She got no chance to answer because he was using a wooden spoon to put a dollop of honey on each nipple. They both watched as the honey spread in all directions till the areolas were covered. “Beautiful!” he murmured. “Absolutely beautiful! Do you have any idea what you do to me, Breanne?”

She surveyed his body. He was aroused. She could tell by his erection, of course, but also by the murkiness of his blue eyes and by his shortness of breath.

“We do it to each other.” How could she say otherwise, when her nipples stood up like little flags announcing her excitement?

Laying himself down on his side, propped on an elbow, he traced the honey with a forefinger, making increasingly smaller circles, starting with the edge of her areola and moving closer and closer to the taut nipple. Giving the other breast the same attention, he then began to retrace his steps, but now with the tip of his tongue.

“Please,” she whimpered.

“What?”

“You know.”

“You are sore. I do not want to hurt you.”

“If you do not suckle me soon, I am going to hurt you.”

He laughed, then moved to kneel between her legs. With one arm under her back, he arched her up off the mattress so she was at his mercy, with no choice but to hold onto him or fall. Leaning forward, he took one breast into his open mouth, almost all of it, but then she was not that big. With his phallus hitting her belly, he began to suck tightly, pulling upward, stretching the breast with him. By the time his hard sucking reached her nipple, she was shuddering with her first peaking, scarce realizing that he had moved to the other breast. And then he hooked his arms under her knees, which he raised up to his shoulders.

“Aaarrgh!” She clutched at the bed linens and tried to move, but she was at his mercy in this ignoble position. “Release me, knave.”

“Why?”

Oh, good gods! What is he doing now? Honey…he is pouring honey THERE. “Because I feel like a fool hanging from you like this. Eeeeek! What are you doing?”