Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 59320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
“Stroke with your fingers, just behind them,” Rolf added. Erik closed his eyes as her wet fingers began to rub the area between his balls and his ass. The pressure inside was building fast and hard, and he wasn’t going to last much longer.
“Your mouth,” Erik whispered, his cock twitching from the blood-flow. “Let me fuck your mouth.”
His eyes closed as Cherine took him in her mouth again, but she kept her fingers rubbing that spot. He slammed his cock into her dripping mouth as hard as she could take him, drawing it in and out of the warmth faster and faster. His balls drew up into him, and he grasped her head, tugging hard at her hair to keep her in place as he came. He moaned loudly, grunting through the orgasm that shot a full load into her mouth, which she promptly swallowed up.
When she was sure he was done coming, she delicately slid him out of her mouth and wiped herself with the back of her hand. Erik wasn’t sure what was up or what was down, and he wavered on his feet until he had to lean on the bed.
“Well,” Rolf said slowly, and Erik suddenly remembered they weren’t alone. He would have felt a tad bit embarrassed for coming, and coming so hard, in front of Rolf, but the endorphins were still running on a rampage through him.
“You’re quite the woman,” Rolf went on. “I can see why Erik is so taken with you. Naturally, we can’t let him have all the fun, can we, my beauty?”
Erik caught his breath and eyed Rolf. Was this it? Was Rolf going to take her for his own pleasure now?
Rolf reached forward and gently placed his hand on the side of her cheek, moving her head over to face him. “I want to see what he tastes like.”
He leaned in and gently kissed Cherine—closed-lipped at first, and then they both opened for each other, and Erik could see his tongue gently plying her. A murderous wave of jealousy ran through him, making his hands ball up into fists.
Rolf slowly pulled back, his eyes drooping with desire, searching every corner of Cherine’s face. She was so painfully beautiful to Erik, and it was only natural that Rolf saw it too. He knew he had no real reason to be jealous—he always knew Rolf would take her in the end—but he couldn’t help it. Cherine didn’t deserve Rolf, no matter how much bigger and more powerful he was, no matter how well he could treat her. Erik had kinship with Cherine; Rolf would only want something physical.
Although, as Rolf stood, still watching Cherine, Erik could see the strange tenderness that possessed the giant beast of a man. For all his big, broad glory, his devilish eyes, bronze skin and long black hair, there was something almost sweet in the way he looked at her.
And, interestingly enough, that worried Erik too.
“My beauty,” Rolf said with a soft smile, “I am not done with you. I want you in my chambers tonight, right after dinner. Erik will bring you.”
He shot Erik a look that cemented the deal then quickly turned and walked out of the room, leaving Erik and Cherine alone. A cold chill rattled the windows, and Erik thought it might as well have been his heart.
Erik would have to deliver Cherine to him tonight.
But would Erik get to stay?
Chapter 13
Cherine
The noise in the dining hall was deafening that evening. From the clinking of my wine glass and ale mug to the slobbering eating habits of the unmannered Vikings and their riotous conversations, I could barely think. Not that I wanted to think all too much; after all, I kept dwelling on what Rolf had ordered, and that prospect scared me. Still, I wanted to be prepared for it, though I knew it wouldn’t do much good.
How could I ever be prepared for a night with a Viking leader, especially one built like a small house? Erik, I could manage. In fact, Erik, I enjoyed more than I wanted to admit. But Rolf? He was a whole other animal.
He is an animal, I thought as I took another gulp of honeyed mead. The man himself was sitting across the table from me. Every so often, his eyes would meet mine and crinkle at the corners, something that made my heart flutter in an unwanted way, but for most of the meal, he was either watching Erik beside me or egging on conversation with the newcomer, Arvid.
Arvid was a rather handsome older man, with shining red hair and a crooked smile, and, as I soon found out, he spoke fluent French from having lived in a Viking-won settlement further down the coast. He was as charming—and civilized—as anything, almost fooling me into thinking he was a Frenchman and not a Northerner.