Michelle Willingham - Forbidden Nights With A Viking

‘If you wed me, I don’t want you to leave,’ she said. ‘I want a child, yes, but more than that, I want you.’ To emphasise her words, she ran her palm over his cheek, down his throat, to rest upon his heart. ‘With or without a child. It’s you I need.’

Styr held himself motionless at her words. When Caragh moved beneath his chained arms to kiss him, he claimed her lips, as if disbelieving what she’d said. Pulling back from him, she ordered, ‘Look at me.’

He did, and she framed his face with her hands, seeing the yearning that mirrored her own. ‘I don’t love you for the child you may or may not give me. I love the man before me.’ She pressed another kiss against his heart, and he drew his chained hands against her hair, holding her as best he could.

‘I don’t want you to hate me, years from now,’ he admitted.

She looped her arms around his neck, pressing her cheek against his skin. ‘I’ll only hate you, if you walk away.’

In his eyes, she saw the uncertainty, the belief of a man who saw himself as unworthy. And she realised that he was as broken as she had once been.

‘When you left, it was as if a part of me was gone,’ she continued. Emotion welled up in her eyes as she reached down to touch the lengths of chain. ‘I never should have taken you prisoner in the beginning. I understand now, what you suffered, not knowing if Elena was alive or dead. It was wrong of me.’

His hands came around her waist, pulling the chains taut until her body was pressed against his. She could feel his desire, and she warmed to it. ‘I love you, Styr. And though I may not ever be what Elena was—’

He cut her off at that. ‘She cannot compare to you. Not in any way.’ He took her mouth again, kissing her and shaping her lips to his. When she opened to him, she accepted his tongue within her mouth, matching his invasion with her own.

His deep voice was a breath of heat upon her skin. ‘From the moment I saw you, Caragh, you captured me.’

The desire to touch him, to feel his bare skin against hers, was an ache that could not be denied. At his words, she reached back for the ties of her gown, loosening it until the linen slid over her shoulders, over her bared breasts, and falling to her feet.

When Styr saw her body, he ached to touch her. Her slim lines had filled out, her breasts a generous handful that he wanted to caress. No longer could he see her bones, but a softer flesh covered the body he adored.

‘I am yours to command,’ he said, and by the gods, he prayed she would take advantage. Against his hose, he was rigid, almost afraid he would lose control the moment she touched him.

She drew near to him, her unbound hair falling across her shoulders in a dark pool. He lifted his chained hands, and she stepped beneath them, her expression shy. The length of the fetters grazed her nipple, and she gasped at the sensation.

‘It’s cold.’

‘Is it?’ He covered one nipple with his palm, gently teasing the other with the chain. She gasped, and he distracted her with his mouth, tasting the sweet flesh while his hands moved over her hips, lifting one of her legs until he could loop the chain between them.

She was so caught up in the attention he gave to her breasts, that she hardly noticed the length of chain until it slid between her thighs, moving upwards until it rested upon her womanhood.

A cry escaped her when he rubbed it gently upon her. ‘What are you—?’ A shudder broke forth as he drew it over her flesh.

His hands caressed her rib cage, his mouth still suckling her breasts while he tormented her below.

‘Remove my clothing,’ he ordered. But she was so caught up, her eyes closed at the sensation, she hardly heard him.

‘Caragh,’ he demanded, ‘look at me.’

Her blue eyes were hazed with pleasure, her hands gripping his shoulders. He repeated his request, and she fumbled with the ties of his hose, drawing them over his hips.

Her fingers brushed against his erect shaft, and it was as if she’d touched a torch to his skin. He nearly lost his seed at that moment, and he froze, trying to gather up the threads of his shredded control.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, pulling her hand back. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you.’

It was the sweetest pleasure he’d ever felt in his life, but this was not meant to be a moment for his own release. To distract her, he moved the chain between her legs. Although he saw the flush of arousal deepening, her breathing growing faster, she never stopped her own torment. Her fingers curled around him, stroking him from the base of his shaft to the blunt tip.

He was losing command of himself, a prisoner to her touch in truth.

‘I love touching you,’ she admitted, exploring his rigid flesh with her hands. ‘You’re like warm stone.’

‘If you do that for much longer, I won’t be able to pleasure you,’ he gritted out. He lowered the chain and dropped to his knees. Her sex was wet, her legs spread apart for him. With no warning at all, he placed his mouth upon her intimately, and her knees buckled.

‘Hold on to the post,’ he ordered. With his hands upon her bottom, he used his tongue upon her flesh, revelling in the salty taste of her arousal.

Caragh was lost in sensation, drowning in him. Her hands moved to touch his hair, trying to guide him back up. She couldn’t stand the fierce pleasure that rocked her core, and when he entered her with his tongue, she couldn’t stop the tremors from sweeping over her.

‘Come for me,’ he demanded. ‘I won’t stop until you let go.’

Oh God above, she couldn’t take this. Her body was on fire, her mind enslaved to him. She remembered the night he had forced her to touch herself, and the memory of that pleasure was returning.

He seemed to recall it, too, for a moment later, he rose from between her thighs and guided her hand to the wetness between her legs. With his hand upon hers, he took her back to the searing rhythm, and that was all it took for her to crumple, a cry of ecstasy tearing forth. He leaned against the post, lifting her up with his chained hands beneath her bottom. His hips rocked against her, and she opened to him, trembling when the hard ridge of his manhood slid against her wet seam.

Slowly, he settled her until she felt him entering. His arms tightened, but he did not fully penetrate. The sensation of his manhood filling her was so welcome, she cared nothing for the slight discomfort of losing her virginity. And when she was fully seated upon him, she wrapped her legs around him, feeling that it was right to have him inside her.

Styr licked the underside of her breast, his warm breath sending chills of desire rippling through her skin. He remained sheathed within her, not moving at all, but using his mouth to draw out the heat and need.

‘What is your command?’ he asked her, his eyes burning with wickedness.

She could hardly speak, much less give him orders. The cool length of the chain was against her bottom, his hands holding her steady.

‘I want you to find the same release I did,’ she said. ‘I want to please you.’

Leaning in, she kissed his mouth. He responded with aggression, his tongue plundering her, while below, he lifted her gently. Every touch of his mouth and hands had aroused her to the point of desperate need. Her body no longer belonged to her; it was his conquest.

‘This pleases me more than all else,’ he answered.

Caragh began to move against him, rising and sheathing herself while staring into his eyes. he helped her, his body thrusting inside hers as she rode him.

Each time he filled her up, her body clenched. He was insatiable, his mouth moving over every part of her skin as he lifted her. With one arm, he held her bottom balanced, while he reached around, stretching the chain around her waist. He moved his fingers between them, finding the nodule that had brought her such pleasure before.