Naughty Temptations

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

He frowned, but he did as she directed. For a minute Fianna could only survey his form from this new angle and delight in it. His back was strong, with broad, solid shoulders narrowing to a slim waist and sleek, muscular hips. She reached down and rubbed her hand along his back, feeling the play of the sinews under her fingers. As he’d done for her earlier, she began to massage and knead the muscles to ease him into greater comfort.

It seemed to work. Henrik sighed deeply and relaxed from his stiff position. He began to tense again, though when her hands moved down to stroke his buttocks. Though narrow compared to his chest, they were gracefully formed and just rounded enough to be intriguing. His legs parted slightly, letting her see the backs of his balls. She ignored them for the moment, though, stroking down his legs. The muscles of his thighs were strong and solid, like the rest of him. He was truly an impressive man, this temporary lover of hers. Just touching him fired a possessive longing she’d never have guessed she’d ever feel about a man. She wanted to lay claim to him, to have him always. Not just for s*x, though. She liked being with him even when they weren’t making love; she liked falling asleep in his arms, talking about their dreams and desires, working together. She also liked touching him, she decided as she ran her hands back up his body and buried them in his soft, silky hair.

“Roll over,” she ordered him.

He complied without hesitation, turning his large frame over so that he looked up at her. His eyes held hints of laughter.

She bent over to kiss his face, much as he’d done with her earlier, licking his lips, temples, down along the line of beard to his ears, and then continuing the exploration with her tongue down his strong throat to his chest. There was a slight taste of salt on his damp skin that nonetheless tasted sweet to her. Her tongue tangled in the whirls of hair on his chest and scraped lightly across one masculine n****e. He drew in a sharp breath as she circled the hard bud, stopped there and closed her lips over it. She sucked and nipped at it before moving over to the other one. His panting breaths came faster under her attention. She loved watching his body jerk and knowing she could bring this big, strong man to such extremes.

She licked lower, running her tongue down his stomach stopping to explore his belly button, then following the narrowing arrow of hair onto his abdomen. She skirted the length of his c**k, though, and continued down one strong thigh and a long stretch of leg to his foot. He reared up with surprise when she kissed the end of each toe. She waited for him to say something, but he just smiled and lay back down.

She ran her tongue back up the inside of his leg to his knee, where she transferred her attention to the other leg and went down to the toes of the other foot. He made a strangled sound halfway between a gasp and a sob. The journey continued up the outside of his leg.

When she got to his hip, she settled her face between his thighs, halfway down to his knees, stuck her tongue between them and ran it up the insides of both thighs, stopping just short of his balls. His breath grew into loud, gasping moans and his body jerked and tightened.

“Now spread your legs apart,” she ordered him.

Playing along with the game, he dutifully refused.

Her own pulse and breathing sped up. “You disobey me?” she asked. “You know the consequences.”

He didn’t answer. The lazy, wicked grin he threw her nearly ripped her heart out of her chest. It occurred to her that even if he left and never returned, she might never be able to have s*x with a man again. Certainly it would never be like this with anyone else, and she feared he spoiled her for anything less.

She turned away to find the branches he’d left lying on the floor. She didn’t want him to see the sudden spurt of tears in her eyes and wiped them away surreptitiously as she picked out the sturdiest switch on the pile.

“Roll over.” Her voice sounded steady and forceful. She hoped no revealing shine lingered in her eyes.

He said nothing but did as she commanded.

Fianna admired the smooth skin and lean muscle of his buttocks. It seemed a shame to mark up such beauties with the switch. But curiosity and a sense of mischief won out. She raised the branch and brought it down but didn’t try to put much force behind it. There was a small thwacking sound when wood met flesh. He made no sound and didn’t move. A very faint pink line showed on the skin.

The next time she struck just a little harder. Again he offered no reaction, but another light pink mark showed, the color spreading out a bit. She slapped the branch down several more times in succession. He never made a sound, and after a bit she realized, he wouldn’t. He was a Norse warrior. She could whip him half to death and he wouldn’t make a sound. Not that she wanted to do that. She didn’t even care if she drew any reaction from him. She didn’t want to hurt him, just to give him the same sort of different pleasure from it he’d brought to her. This was fun, unlike any experience she’d had before, this playing of the different sorts of games he seemed to enjoy as much as she did.

Four more swats, delivered a bit more sharply, drew low welts. She hoped she wasn’t hurting him too much. Surely he would stop her if she was, but would it offend his warrior’s pride to have to ask it?

She hesitated and lowered the switch. “Are you prepared to obey me now?” she asked.

He turned a burning gaze on her. “You haven’t worked hard enough for it yet.”

She sucked in a sharp breath and hoped she was up to the challenge he presented to her.

“So be it, then,” she said and raised the branch.

She brought it down hard enough to elicit a disconcerting crack when it struck flesh. He didn’t even grimace. She smacked again, harder. The next few strokes drew raised welts on his buttocks and thighs. Between the steamy atmosphere and the effort, sweat began to form on her temples. Five more hard lashes and he said, “I believe ’tis time for me to do as you ask.”

She dropped the branch. “Do so, then.”

He rolled over, barely suppressing a wince when his sore bottom touched the hard wood, and let his legs hang off either side of the bench. She sat on the end of the bench, straddling it, facing him, and reached down to touch him. His c**k stood out, full and thick.

Fianna leaned over and ran her tongue from the very base of it all the way to the tip in one long, slow swipe. His stoicism disappeared as his face tightened up, eyes squeezed shut, and tendons stood out on his neck. He groaned and muttered something in Norse.

“What is that?” she asked.

He drew in a breath. “You slay me so sweetly, my love.”

“You’re far from vanquished as yet, my hero.”

She made another pass from base to tip, stopping to swirl her tongue around the thickness at several spots. He gasped and jumped. She licked over his balls until he moaned and wound his fingers in her hair. Then she moved up the length of his shaft and ran her tongue around the tip, probing into the small opening.

When she took the entire tip into her mouth and sucked on it gently he groaned in a way that sounded almost like a sob. The muscles of his thighs clenched hard beneath the hands she had resting on them.

“I cannot—” He groaned. “Cannot hold it much longer.” He raised his head. “Your mouth or your quim?” he asked.

“Stay.” She pushed down on his chest, then moved herself along the bench and lifted herself up enough to hover above him. Using her hand to guide it, she lowered herself onto his c**k, impaling herself on him. She slid down until he was planted deep inside her. She was so hot and moist and ready for him, it slipped in easily.

They rocked together as he pushed up and she sank down on him. She liked this view. She liked being able to control the tempo of their movements and watching his face as the rhythm brought him pleasure and increasing tension.

Henrik reached up and tweaked the tips of her breasts. When she let herself down on him, it hit the spot deep inside that made her jump. The hot fire blazed within, needing him to quench it. She groaned as she bounced up and down faster and faster.

“Oh, dear heaven,” she murmured. “Henrik. Love—” She screamed as he pinched a n****e hard at the same time his c**k surged against her. It sent her over the edge in the spasms of release. She sobbed aloud as the heat exploded within her, and repeated blasts of pleasure jolted her body. He pushed into her two more times before the spasms of her release sucked him into spilling his seed.

The wonderful starbursts of pleasure kept firing within her, launching her higher and higher into the oblivion of total ecstasy. For long minutes afterward, she did naught but sit there, clutching him within her body, disinclined to move or let him go. The pleasure softened and faded but left her spent.

She pulled herself off him and half collapsed to her knees by the side of the bench, her head pillowed on his stomach. He stroked her damp hair. They stayed that way for some time, content to be peaceful together, touching each other.

Eventually, though, he roused. She lifted her head and sighed. He stood, went and picked something else up from a corner of the room. When he came back she saw he held a cake of soap.

“Now that we’ve sweated and licked all the dirt away, we use the soap to wash,” he said. The note of humor in his voice told her he appreciated the mild irony of his words.

They used another bucket of water to soap themselves. Henrik poured water from the bucket over her hair and massaged the soap into it, careful to be sure none dripped forward into her eyes. The feel of his fingers rubbing at her scalp and slipping along the strands of her hair would have been arousing were she not already so sated.

She did the same for him, in turn, and found a different sort of satisfaction and intimacy in the task of washing his hair. It roused again that possessive longing to have more of him than just these few stolen moments. She fought back the tears and won.

“Come now for the last part of the bath,” he said, when she’d got his hair nicely full of lather. “The part that will make you feel refreshed.”

He drew her to her feet and led her to the door, then out. She looked around, hoping no one could see them as they walked naked through the trees. They were alone, however, and she heard no sound of anyone else nearby. The cooler, drier air was a shock on her bare skin after the hot dampness of the sauna. It was naught compared with the shock when he led her along a path downhill to the river, and waded right in, dragging her with him.

“What are you doing?” she yelled at him as he pulled her along.

“This is the final step in getting truly clean,” he said. “’Tis a shock at first, but get in it and you’ll find it refreshing.

At the outset, at least, it wasn’t refreshing at all, it was just cold. Her n*****s tightened into pebbles and gooseflesh popped out all over her. She squealed as he plunged in, moving out in the water up to his chest. He scooped up handfuls to rinse off his chest, then ducked his head in it to wash away the soap in his hair.

Fianna hesitated, but since she was already in the water, and had a head full of soapy hair, she followed his example. It was cold on her thighs, then on her belly and her breasts. It was cold on her shoulders and in her hair when she dipped it into the water to rinse off the soap.

“Now jump up and down a few times to get your blood moving,” he advised. He held her hand and hopped with her, bobbing up and down in the water. After a few minutes she realized her body was adjusting to the water temperature and it wasn’t too unpleasant. Still, she didn’t object when he said it was time to go back.

They got out of the water and ran, hand in hand, up the hill back to the steam hut, laughing together like children, their wet hair streaming out behind them. They reached the hut and dressed quickly in the clean clothes left waiting for them. By the time she was dressed, Fianna had to admit that she did feel refreshed and revived in a way she rarely ever had. Perhaps the sauna and dip in the stream afterward accounted for part of that. It certainly wasn’t all.

As they left, Henrik stopped and pulled her into his arms. He didn’t kiss her or say anything, just stood, holding her against his body, her head cradled against his shoulder. Fianna didn’t need words to hear all he tried to tell her of his gratitude, his joy in her company, his liking, his sadness, and his regret.

Tears began to form again but she held them back. She hadn’t spent so much time fighting tears since the days following her mother’s disappearance. And now she was faced with the loss of another she’d grown to care for. She drew a deep breath. She would have no regrets or sadness about this. The time with him had been a gift, and so she would regard it.

He sighed and let her go after a while. Hand in hand, they made their way back to the village and the hut where Ranulf lay.

As they neared the place, an uproar of arguing voices, tinged with some dismay, reached them. Fianna’s stomach clenched as she wondered if Ranulf’s condition had taken a turn for the worse while they were bathing. But surely someone would have come to tell them, had that been the case.

They had to push their way through a fair crowd of people to get to the room that held the patient and was the source of the disturbance. When they were finally close enough to see what was happening, she let out a long breath of relief.

Ranulf was awake, alert, and feeling sufficiently revived to want to get up and be about whatever business he thought needed his attention. Some of the group packed into the room attempted to keep him down. Others argued that he should be allowed to rise if he wished. At least, those were the impressions she got from the tone of the various interchanges in Norse.

Then Henrik said something loudly enough to be noticed by everyone. The room quieted and people turned in their direction. He spoke again and motioned toward the door. Fianna needed no translation for those words. A few people argued, but most did as he directed and filed out of the room. Ranulf said something to a couple of them as they left.

When they were alone in the room with just Ranulf, he and Henrik exchanged a few words, then Henrik said to her, “He says he feels strong enough to be up. Is this a good thing?”

“Let me look at his shoulder, and we’ll see.”

Ranulf lay quietly while she removed the bandage from the wound. He and Henrik exchanged a few words. The looks directed toward her suggested she was the subject of their conversation, but Henrik declined to translate.

Ranulf’s injury looked significantly better than it had the previous time she’d changed the dressing. It no longer oozed so heavily, and the swelling and redness were much reduced. The red streaks radiating from it had disappeared, and even the discoloration from the bruising was fading. She put more salve and a fresh bandage on it and sat back, looking at her patient.

He watched her with a glint of amusement wrenchingly similar to a look she’d seen on Henrik’s face. But then the grin faded and his expression grew serious. He said a few words to her.

Before Henrik translated, she guessed from the tone that he was offering thanks. Henrik confirmed it. “Ranulf knows you likely saved his life, and he offers you his gratitude.”

“Tell him he is welcome. Healing is what I do.”

Henrik conveyed that to his brother.

“He also wants to know if he can get up,” Henrik added. “He says he is feeling much stronger.”

“He needs to be careful of the shoulder, but if he has the strength, then I think it safe for him to get up. Let him try to sit up for a bit first, though.”

As she anticipated, Ranulf experienced some difficulty just sitting up, even with his brother’s assistance. As soon as he managed to get himself halfway upright, he swayed and turned very pale. Fortunately Henrik was prepared to catch him if he fainted. He didn’t, but it was close. After a few gulps of air, Ranulf said something, and Henrik eased him back onto the mat.

“Tell him not to be too upset that it was so difficult this time,” Fianna asked Henrik. “It will be easier next time, and by tomorrow he should be able to sit up for a little while.”

As Henrik conveyed that information to Ranulf, a woman came into the room. She waited for Henrik to finish then spoke to him herself. Henrik nodded and answered, and Ranulf added something as well.

“My father requests we join him for a special meal to thank you,” Henrik told her. “Ranulf said he’d like to rest for a while.”

She nodded acceptance. Henrik escorted her to the largest of the longhouses in the settlement. On the way there, Fianna told him, “As Ranulf is recovering well, there is no need for me to stay here longer.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. “It will be well into darkness before we finish tonight. Stay the night and I’ll take you home tomorrow.”

“Well enough.”

“Fianna—” He stopped, both talking and walking. She halted with him, turning to look at him. She couldn’t read all the expressions that chased across his face, but the pain and distress were obvious enough.

He drew a long breath and let it out slowly. “Never have I felt for a woman the way I feel for you. It makes it difficult for me to know what to do now. For most of my life, I’ve awaited this opportunity to go off and see the world, explore what it offers, and seek my fortune. Yet now that the time has arrived, a part of me would rather remain here with you. Even do I go, a piece of my heart will remain always with you. I’d ask you to wait for my return, yet I know you cannot do that. A choice is being forced upon you.” He drew himself up as though bracing himself for an anticipated blow. “I know not…” He stopped for a moment before he said, “Do you ask it of me, I’ll not go. I’ll remain here and wed you myself.”

The miserable tears were starting to collect in her eyes again. His face showed no expression now other than a stern resolve, but she knew what it cost him to make the offer. She understood the depth of the sacrifice he offered to make, admired him for it, loved him for it. In truth she loved him for all the good things he was, this strong, honorable, intelligent man who struggled to do what was right, whatever the cost.

She desperately wanted to say the words, to ask him to remain with her. Her heart had never wanted anything more. She could imagine no greater happiness than sharing a lifetime with him. But because he was willing to be strong and noble, she owed it to him to be likewise.