The Pirate Bride Part 19

"Do that again."

"What?"

"Laugh. When you laugh, your dangly part shakes inside me."

On the other hand, there is much to be said about a talkative woman. "Uh, just so you know, my dangly part is no longer dangly."

"I know. Dost consider me a total lackbrain?"

Is that a serious question? "Can I move now?"

"What? I thought we were done."

Did someone mention lackbrain? "My dear nave pirate miss. We have just begun." He withdrew almost totally, then slammed back in to the hilt so that his nether hairs blended with her nether hairs. Looking down, he fancied it resembled woven threads of two shades of gold. In fact, he moved slightly from side to side to blend the threads more.

She jerked. Apparently, that movement must have brushed her sweet bud. And then she screamed.

And it was a good scream, too.

There was no time to ponder any more as he began the serious business of swiving, and, yea, he took his swiving seriously. What Viking man worth his reputation did not?

He rocked her gently at first with long slow strokes 'til she made small mewling sounds of pleasure, but then not so gently and not so slow. Her mewls became cries. Sometimes when he was buried in her hot depths, he gripped the cheeks of her a.r.s.e and rotated his hips so that the bone above his c.o.c.k ground against the pearl of her arousal. That trick caused her inner muscles to ripple around his staff.

The sound of wetness, moist flesh smacking against moist flesh, was carnal music to his ears. Thork's blood thickened with enthusiasm, and his heart hammered against his rib cage. He was catapulting fast toward his own peaking, but he wanted her to come to a second bliss, if possible.

By the time her stretched inner muscles began to clutch and unclutch his now ma.s.sive c.o.c.k, his nerves were inflamed with the need to let loose his self-control. He glanced down at her and saw her eyes dilated to a full dark violet color. Something intense flared between them then, especially when she reached up and fingered the edges of his jaw and parted lips. How could she be gentle when he felt so fierce?

"I. Cannot. Wait," he roared out as he withdrew and spilled his seed upon the blanket between her thighs.

Afterward, he lay atop her, trying to calm his panting breaths.

To his surprise, Medana was caressing his back and shoulders and upper arms. When he raised himself on levered arms to stare down at her, he saw the glow of wonder on her face. "That was amazing. Can all men do that?"

He wasn't exactly sure what she meant. Probably the bringing of a woman to peak in the bedplay. He did not like her inferring that she might test his skills by bedding other men. With a surge of possessiveness he would no doubt regret later, he replied. "Only me."

Standing, he took her hand and yanked her to her feet. "I need to flip this blanket lest we end up lying on the damp spot."

Color heightened her cheeks when she realized what he referred to. Still, she managed to overcome her shyness enough to ask, "Do you get . . . uh, satisfied by doing it that way?"

"Satisfied, yea, I do, but would it be better if I stayed the course, inside? Of course it would."

"Well, I appreciate your not planting your seed in me."

She was pulling the chemise over her neck and shoulder. He could have told her that he would be removing it again shortly but decided that some words were best unspoken.

"Don't you want children, ever, Medana?"

"I gave up those kinds of dreams a long time ago. Yea, I know that I could do it like some of the other women have, alone, but I would prefer, if I ever bear babies, to have them in a home with a husband."

"A rather traditional view from a nontraditional female pirate," he remarked.

"Can I not be both?"

"Apparently you are."

"You were a pirate at one time, too. 'Tis hardly fair of you to criticize me for doing the same."

"There is a difference. You are a woman and I am a man." He paused to let her know he was well aware of the difference after their recent activity.

"Men have been using that excuse for centuries. And women have been proving them wrong for centuries."

He wasn't precisely sure what ways women had outdone men, but she was probably correct. All the women in his family were independent and capable of caring for themselves . . . his mother, his aunt Eadyth, his cousins. "I was a pirate for a good cause. To undermine that evil King Edred."

"And we are pirates to survive."

"Must you always be at cross-wills with me?" When she just shrugged, he added, "Besides, I never criticized you for being a pirate. Just for being a pirate who captured me."

She shrugged again. He was coming to mislike her shrugs, not that his view would stop her.

"If you were pirating for a good cause, why is your father so upset with you?"

He could feel his face heat with color. "That was not the only bad thing I have ever done."

She made a m.u.f.fled sound of suppressed laughter.

"Beware, M'Lady Pirate. Now that I no longer have to be good to please my father, I may try my bad on you."

"I thought you already had."

"Not even a bit."

Enough of this line of conversation afore he tossed her to the ground and tried her charms, again. He walked away from her and glanced around their surroundings and out to sea. All was calm. The two dots that were Sigrun and Salvana moved about Small Island, working industriously on some ch.o.r.e that involved dragging a long piece of driftwood, probably intended for firewood. The big dog was tugging one way while they tugged the other. "Too bad the pond is so far away. I could use a good wash after all that exercise." Medana had come up to stand beside him. He waggled his eyebrows to indicate what exercise he meant. When he was a younger, less experienced male, he used to practice waggling his eyebrows in front of his mother's polished bra.s.s. In time, he'd perfected the art. There were so many types of waggles for so many occasions, most of them s.e.xual in tone.

She ignored the waggle and said, "There is no pond up here, of course, but there are headwaters for the mountain stream. A small waterfall and an equally small pool."

"Lead on, my winsome leader," he said.

She mumbled something about "winsome indeed!" but she didn't protest when he laced his fingers with hers while they walked a distance from the clearing along a well-trod path that she explained without his asking. "The guardswomen up here use the headwaters for drinking water. And bathing."

It was indeed a small waterfall and the spillover pool no more than thigh-high and two arm's lengths across. It was not a true headwater, either, since it merely led to a tiny stream trickling down into the valley. An unreliable source of water for the women.

But the water here was cool and clean. After sluicing himself with handfuls of water, he gave in and just lay down under the water. When he came back up, Medana had removed her chemise and was sitting in the deepest part, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s demurely covered. Not that he couldn't see through the clear water, but he decided not to inform her of that fact.

It always amazed Thork how women could perform the most wanton acts during the night and then turn blus.h.i.+ng virgin on the morn. Not that they'd coupled in the dark or that Medana had been all that wanton. But it was early hours yet. He could only hope.

Thork's stomach growled then, and he realized he was ravenously hungry. "Is there any food left?" he asked Medana.

"I was thinking the same thing. Yea, there's plenty."

On the way back to the clearing, Thork glanced at Medana and winked. "Have you ever heard of the Viking S-spot?"

Chapter Sixteen.

Alas, paradise can last only so long. Thus, Paradise Lost . . .

Medana soon came to the conclusion that Thork was insatiable. And to her shame, she was proving insatiable, too.

What if she developed a craving for s.e.x? What if she had a dormant harlot inside her that Thork had managed to tap to life? What if she liked it so much that she became like some of her more wanton women, those who could not wait 'til they went to market towns so they could be tupped by men? And not just for babies, either. Would she be encouraging the pirate women to capture more men in the future, just so they had s.e.x partners for a time before discarding them like used goods? Like men did to women?

When they'd returned to the clearing, Thork's hunger had dissipated, or rather was replaced with a different kind of hunger, and he'd coaxed her into removing her chemise so he could examine her for ticks. He'd sworn he saw some in the woods. And, d.a.m.n her foolish heart, but she'd let herself be coaxed. And checked him for ticks, too.

Then he'd proceeded to show her the Viking S-spot. With his tongue! On her body! Or in her body, to be more precise. Praise be Valkyries! She blushed even recalling what he had done. What she had allowed him to do.

Afterward, they'd devoured the rest of the food and wine, and now the insatiable rogue was giving her that look again.

"What?" she asked, a dimwitted thing to say in the circ.u.mstances.

"Do you not think it is time for you to reciprocate?"

"Reciprocate what?" Another dimwitted question.

"Making love."

"I would not know where to start." Which was the wrong thing to say because he lay himself down on the blanket. Still naked. Folded his hands behind his head and looked up at her with the innocence of a shark.

"Just do whatever you want. You could start by touching me."

She just barely stopped herself from asking where. He would probably point to his staff that was already beginning to rise. Again.

Unfortunately, he seemed to be reading her mind. "Not there! Leastways, not yet."

"Turn over," she said. "I get too distracted by . . ." She waved a hand at it. "I will have more nerve to touch you if you are not giving me those lascivious looks."

"Lascivious!" he hooted, but turned over onto his folded arms after taking care to adjust his c.o.c.kstand.

She began by brus.h.i.+ng his braid to the side and charting the strong tendons in his neck with her fingertips. Next she gave attention to the wide breadth of his shoulders. She gained inordinate pleasure watching his muscles bunch at those mere touches.

He had scars all over, as any Viking warrior did, including a wide slash from one shoulder to the opposite waist. She traced it with one fingertip and asked, "Where did you get this?"

"The Battle of Ess.e.x. I joined King Harald Bluetooth for a period in fighting King Edred's ranks. The Saxon foeman got much worse than a mere scar, believe you me. Attacking a man from behind! But then, that is the Saxon way."

"It is our way, too," Medana confessed. "When we women of Thrudr are forced to fight, we must use any means possible, being weaker than men in physical strength. Cunning is a necessity for female pirates."

She thought he would laugh or make some derogatory remark about cunning coming natural to women, but he remained silent.

So she continued touching him. The ropes of muscles in his arms. The striated planes of his back, which tapered to his waist and narrow hips. His b.u.t.tocks she saved for later. If she dared! Instead, she walked her fingers down his thighs and legs.

He s.h.i.+vered and spread his legs slightly.

"Am I doing it wrong?" she asked.

"Oh, Medana! You are doing it just right."

Encouraged, she examined the backs of his knees and his ankles and his long, narrow feet. He was a well-formed male, there was no doubt about that. Only then did she allow herself to touch his backside. His b.u.t.tocks were hard, high globes of sheer muscle, unlike hers that seemed to be soft and squishy, something she'd noted when bathing. Through the parting of his thighs she could see his ballocks covered with a light furring of fine blond hairs.

She said something then that she never thought she'd say to a man, "You have a very nice a.r.s.e."

"I know. 'Tis one of my best features."

His face was hidden, but he was probably smiling. "Unlike humility, which has to be far down the list."

"How did you know I have a list of my a.s.sets?" he teased.

She leaned forward and kissed the enticing curve at the small of his back. A vulnerable-looking spot.

He rolled over, and she was kneeling at his side. His best side, truth to tell. Even if she only referred to his face.

Stark cheekbones highlighted a bronzed face. Then there were those incredible emerald-fire eyes. He had a strong nose and full lips, which were parted now with arousal.

She loved that she could arouse such a rascal of a man.

He folded his arms under his head again, as if giving her freedom to do what she willed. That position called attention to his underarms, where straight blond hairs protected the soft skin. She rather liked that part of him, too. In fact, she touched the hair in one hollow to see if it felt as silky as it looked. It did.

His flat male nipples drew her. Fondling them in the same manner as he had treated hers, she was pleased to hear his indrawn breath. When she leaned forward and put her mouth to one of them, he stiffened. When she suckled, he groaned and muttered an expletive.

"You do not like that?"

"I like it too much, and you know it, too."

She smiled. "Shall I do it some more?"

"If you don't, I might have to kill you."

She took that for a yes. When she had played his nipples for a long time, he growled, "Enough! Move on!"

Glancing downward, she saw that his shaft reared up from a thick thatch of blond curls. He was so engorged that a bud of man seed seeped out on its tip. Blue veins stood out on its long length, and the mushroom head was ruddy in color. "Can I touch?"

"Please." He took her hands and showed her how he liked to be caressed with fists that did not meet around his breadth, one above the other. Pumping lightly, then not so lightly. With a roar of pure male satisfaction, he growled, "Take off that b.l.o.o.d.y chemise afore I tear it in shreds and toss it out to sea."

She did as he asked, without question. How had she gotten so aroused just trying to arouse him? Was it the reverse of what Thork had told her earlier, that a man's pleasure was a woman's joy?

"Now climb on top of me," he ordered gruffly when she'd lifted the chemise up and off her body.