Page 52 of Down and Dirty

“Look at you, Britta. Curly blonde hairs glistening with honey. I want to taste you, but that’ll have to wait. This time when you come, I want to be there for the party.”

He made no sense at all, but then Britta was nigh senseless with need.

Zachary reached to a table beside the bed and picked up a silver packet that sat next to his weapon… a piss-tol. Tearing the packet with his teeth, he then sheathed himself.

“To prevent pregnancy,” he explained, seeing her confusion. “Are you ready, sweetheart?”

“Ready? I have been ready for nigh on… oh!”

He’d raised her hips and slowly entered her. Bit by excruciating bit till he was firmly embedded in her woman channel, which shifted and clutched at him in welcome. Then he did something, twisting his hips, and she took even more of him.

He stopped and looked down at her face. His lips were parted. His eyes were a hazy blue. Perspiration dotted his forehead. And Britta knew that he was as aroused as she was.

Then he smiled. He just bloody hell smiled at her. “I’ve been dreaming about this moment for two years. You’ve been the star of more of my wet dreams than I care to mention. And now you’re here.”

She smiled back at him.

His manpart jerked inside of her, obviously liking her smile.

Leaning upward, she kissed his mouth… a shy, inexperienced moving of her parted lips against his parted lips. He moaned, which pleased her ever so much. Slowly he thrust his tongue inside her mouth, and for the first time she understood the significance of his thrusting tongue emulating his manpart, which was beginning to thrust as well. Long, slow strokes in both places, at first.

Britta soon learned the rhythm and met him stroke for stroke, especially when he took her hips and showed her how to move. “Like that. Yes. No, no, no, I’ll slip out. Oh, sweetheart! Put your legs here. Do you like that? How about this? Sweet mother! I knew you would be magnificent.”

Britta kept trying to take over control of this bedplay, but he would not allow it, even slapping away her hand at one point when she tried to touch the place where his manpart joined with her female folds. She was unaccustomed to being a follower, whether in battle or bed.

But what a wondrous thing this mating was! Truly, it was as if she and Zachary were one being. The joining was more than physical. Only he and she could fit together so well. The only key to fit a lock. A fanciful notion, that.

When his strokes became shorter and harder, she wrapped her legs around his waist, trapping him, or so she thought. She met him thrust for thrust, a rhythm that must be intrinsic to men and women under the lust frenzy, she mused. He grunted; she groaned. Still they could not reach that peak that spelled orgasm.

But then it happened, to both of them at once. Britta knew what it felt like to fall off a cliff. This was the same but different. Whereas her real-life fall off the cliff had been terrifying and deadly, this was an incredible blossoming of the senses. Like flying, soaring high till it was almost unbearable, exploding in a blast of sunlight, then floating downward in the fall.

In a haze, she watched Zachary rise from the bed and remove his sheath, wiping himself with a cloth. Then he returned to the bed and drew her close, her face resting on his still wildly beating chest. Kissing the top of her head, he murmured, “You are all I dreamed you would be.”

She thought about replying with some flowery words; most smitten maids would. But this was Zachary, the man of a thousand swivings. They were just words.

So, what she said was, “I did not scream.”

“You moaned a lot.”

“A moan is not a scream.”

“Are you daring me again, sweetheart?”

“And if I am?”

He lifted his head, stared down at her with mirthful eyes, and said, “Hoo-yah!”

Chapter 10

Do Vikings ever ride horses… uh, men?…

Zach was happy.

Why that thought should strike him, was odd. But not really. His life since discovering Sammy had been nothing but chaos on a personal, professional, and emotional level. Britta, his good ol’ thousand-year-old girlfriend, had grounded him but good.

And, yeah, getting laid had that effect on a guy. But this was much, much more than that. When he’d met Britta two years ago, there had been an instant recognition on his part. She was “the one” or as close to “the one” as he’d ever come before. But he’d been too chicken to stay and too chicken to try to bring her home with him.

So what to do now? Maybe the answer was to just be happy. To savor those moments that life throws your way… and hope there’ll be more.