Naughty Temptations

Chapter One

Chapter One

Flames roared up toward the dark sky as the townspeople tossed bits of wood onto the burning heap. Lit by its radiance, the façades of buildings became collages of bright patches riven by shafts of deep shadow. The town itself melded into a patchwork of bright and dark, the contrasts starker and more mysterious when lit by the blaze rather than daylight. People gathered around the fire, passing wineskins and pastries. Musicians played a lively tune and a few hearty souls danced. The bonfire celebrated the equinox, the change of seasons when light overtook darkness for possession of the day.

Fianna huddled in the darkest shadow she could find, wishing she could disappear completely. Not far from where she stood, her friends and acquaintances ate, drank, laughed, danced, flirted, kissed, whispered to each other, and occasionally went off in pairs, giggling and stroking each other. Part of her envied them their simple happiness.

Of a sudden, some of the merriment died away and the crowd quieted as they looked down the road. She leaned out to see what caused their unease, and then stared in surprise herself. Three men approached the town square. They were tall, young, fair, clad in leather and linen, and wearing swords at their sides. Norsemen.

As they drew close enough for the fire to illuminate their faces, she recognized the man in the center. Henrik’s father was the leader of the band that had settled not far from the town. Though everyone had flown into a panic at their arrival, it had settled again quickly when the group made no demands on the town or the people save that they’d claimed a portion of land for grazing their animals and planting their crops.

The town still kept an uneasy eye on the Norse settlement, but so far relations had been occasional but peaceful. A few Norse stragglers had visited before, and some remained, becoming part of the community, but this was the first time a group had arrived together and appeared ready to stay.

Like everyone else gathered there, Fianna wondered what drew the newcomers to the celebration. Though the Norsemen rarely showed much emotion, their current demeanor didn’t suggest they were looking for either battle or business. Perhaps simple curiosity had brought them.

Despite their stern expressions, they were a handsome group of young men. All were strong, well-muscled, and carried themselves with confidence and pride. Henrik walked in the middle, the obvious leader of the trio. He was taller than the others, and his hair glowed like molten gold where the firelight played on it.

In her fascination with the visitors, she took a step away from the concealing shadows, and thus betrayed herself to the view of another group of young men who’d been watching and searching for her.

Her heart contracted and fell in on itself when she heard Artur yell, “There she is. The witch. This night she’ll have to take one of us.”

She turned to see Jerrod, the miller’s son, Artur, apprentice blacksmith, and Keovan, a merchant, approaching her. She looked around for room to run, but she knew it was futile.

They surrounded her. She fingered the hilt of her dagger, which hung in a leather sheath from her girdle, but in truth she dared not use it. Though her mother had promised it would help protect her, it couldn’t assist her in this. Those irritating young men had the right of it, that on this night one of them could claim her services. Perhaps all of them could claim her.

The firelight flickered on their leering faces, delineating Artur’s profile, cruelly outlining his sharply receding chin, and glinting off Keovan’s perpetually runny nose.

“Who will it be?” Jerrod added. “Tonight you must choose one of us.”

It was so, and the reason she’d tried to remain out of sight. She would have hidden in Marla’s home had she not suspected they would search for her there. In fact, they were so intent on having her, they’d have searched every building in town and the surrounding hills. She’d gambled that by staying near the center of activity, but concealed in shadows, she might remain hidden. One small lapse in attention had overset the plan.

“Choose, witch,” Artur said, “or perhaps you prefer to be truly branded witch and face the fire.”

She glanced at the bonfire and tried to keep the terror from showing too clearly on her face. Surely there was some other way. Fianna let her gaze roam around the square, watching the gathered crowds. Evidently they’d decided the Norsemen posed no threat. Most had resumed their revelry, laughing, dancing, and flirting.

She spotted the Norsemen not far away. Someone had passed them a wineskin, and one of the three was drinking from it. A wild idea formed in her head.

“Choose me and I’ll make you roar and scream with delight,” Jerrod promised, drawing her attention back to her tormentors.

“I have the equipment of a bull and I’ll fill you properly,” Artur boasted.

Keovan couldn’t match his companion’s physical assets and attempted a different form of persuasion. “I’ve a gold chain brought from the east that can be yours, do you go with me this night,” he offered.

Fianna glanced at each one and then at the others in the square. The leader of the Norsemen glanced her way and met her eyes briefly, but he clearly decided their doings were none of his concern.

“I’ve made my choice,” Fianna announced to the group. All three watched her eagerly, wondering which of them she’d choose. She glanced at each in turn, then shifted her gaze away from them.

“Him,” she said, pointing to the leader of the Norsemen.

While Artur, Jerrod, and Keovan still stared blankly at her, she pushed past them and walked toward the visitors.

The Norsemen’s eyebrows all rose in surprise as she approached them. Fianna ignored all but the man in the middle, keeping her gaze locked with his as she neared. “You are my choice,” she said to him, making the words loud enough to be heard by the small group of men following her as well as those in front.

“You’re Henrik,” she said to him, “No?”

“Aye, lady,” he acknowledged. “And you are?”

“Fianna.”

“Ah. And for what purpose do you choose me?”

This close to him, she had to look up to see his face. His expression remained so shuttered she read nothing in it, nor did his tone reveal any emotion save mild curiosity.

“To be my…companion for the night.” She wasn’t sure what word to use that he would understand. She wasn’t sure she wanted to use any word at all. As she faced this stern, intimidatingly large, strong man, Fianna asked herself whether this had been a good idea. It got her out of the reach of Jerrod and his fellows, but it might leave her in an even more dangerous situation.

“Your companion?” Henrik scanned the square, taking in the revelers, his gaze coming to rest on one couple all but undressing each other in the street. The woman’s leg was over the man’s bent knee, and one of his hands rested high on her thigh while the other pushed aside her bodice so he could reach her breast. The woman, meanwhile, had both hands pressed against his chest under his shirt.

While he stared, Fianna wondered what she’d do if he turned her down. She supposed she would have to choose one of the group that still stood behind her, waiting to see how this would play out.

“Why do you ask this of me?” Suspicion almost overwhelmed the curiosity in his tone.

“You are a man,” she answered. “I’m a woman. And on this night it is said that all who are of age must pay homage to the spirits that control the fertility of the land.” She wasn’t sure how much he understood of her language.

When he commented, “And you think I’m the best of the choices you have,” she decided it wouldn’t be wise to underestimate him.

He looked at the group of ardent suitors standing behind her, and his face softened a fraction out of its hard set. “You don’t know what you risk with me.”

She puzzled at that. “Nay. But I know what I risk with others.”

His eyebrows flicked upward. He leaned forward to whisper to her. “You cannot know how I prefer to enjoy a woman.”

“Nay, that I do not,” she admitted. “What should I know?”

His expression grew darker. “I do not prefer it quick. Or gentle. I like women who will give everything to me, and accept all I want to do to them. Can you do this? Or are you wishing to change your choice?”

“Do your women survive their time with you?”

He laughed suddenly. “Usually. In truth, none have died of the things I do with them, though I’ve seen a few swoon. Most seem quite pleased and satisfied with our time together. Not all can satisfy me, however.”

She looked at him. He thought he was frightening her. And she should be heeding his warning. She was. But along with the fear was something else. Her stomach did odd little flip-flops, while a frisson of excitement settled hard and heavy in her loins. “I will do my best, though I can make no promises until I know more of what you want.”

“’Tis just for this night?”

“This one night only,” she assured him.

He stared hard into her eyes, trying to read her will. “You interest me, Fianna. I will accept your offer.”

Fianna let out a long sigh, though she wondered if relief was truly the proper reaction. She just knew that if she had to give herself to one man, this was the one who seemed most appealing. Oddly, his words about his possibly unusual preferences made the prospect of time with him more intriguing rather than less.

He said a few words in his own language to his companions. One of those two laughed hard and struck him on the back. The other looked suspicious. A brief argument between that one and Henrik ended with the man pronouncing something she couldn’t understand. She could read the tone, however, and he’d clearly said something on the order of, “On your own head be it.”

Henrik’s companions moved away to leave him alone with her. The man glared at Jerrod, Artur, and Keovan until they, also, got the message and retreated. Then he bent his stare on her again.

Fianna studied his face, trying to decide how worried she should be. His features were strong, from the level, gold eyebrows to the firm, jutting chin outlined by a neatly clipped golden beard. In the firelight she couldn’t tell the color of his eyes, only that they were light. A bit of satisfaction had leeched into his otherwise set expression.

“So, lady,” he said, “What do we now?”

“We go some place private.”

“Know you such a place nearby?”

She nodded. “My quarters. I share a home with Marla, the midwife, but I have my own room.”

“Let us to it then.” He took a torch from one of the many stands holding them and nodded for her to direct him.

The house was quiet and dark. Marla was probably with Master Cooper at his place. They’d been lovers for years, though Marla refused to marry him, claiming she was content with her living arrangements as they were.

Fianna lit a lamp and carried it back to her private room. Henrik put the torch into a stand, then glanced around the room. She wondered what he thought of her very spare quarters, but she didn’t ask and he volunteered no opinion. He paid little attention to it in any case. His gaze returned to her and stayed there. She blushed when he looked slowly down her body. She hoped her shape pleased him. Most men seemed to consider her attractive, but the Norsemen might have different notions of beauty.

She had no idea what to do next, what he might expect of her, so she waited for him to make the first move. Henrik unbuckled his belt and slid the sheath holding his sword off it, laid both aside, and then removed his leather vest and shirt.

She let out a gasp of pure wonder as she stared at the most beautiful masculine chest she’d ever seen. Broad shoulders narrowed gradually down to a slim waist and hard, flat belly. A thin mat of gold hair lay over the strong muscles below his throat, with the dark buds of n*****s protruding from it. The lovely flesh almost demanded she touch it, but something in his expression prevented her from reaching out.

“Have you done this before?” he asked.

“Aye. Once or twice.”

“No more than that?” He sounded incredulous.

“No more.”

“Did you take pleasure from it?”

She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. She hated to be found wanting, but neither did she wish to lie to him. “Nay, in truth, I found little, though I’m told it should be pleasurable.”

“So it should,” he agreed. “And you will get pleasure from it with me. But you must first agree that I am your master in this and you will do all I say without hesitation or question.” He stopped and drew a breath. “I warned you my needs and desires were different. This I ask of you, that you agree I am your lord for this night and you must obey all orders or face my punishment for the failure.” His harsh expression softened. “I know it is not easy for one of your spirit to submit yourself to another’s will. But I believe I can show you the way to greater pleasure than you’ve ever known.”

The demand left her breathless and confused, while his promise set off that funny feeling in her stomach.

“Fianna?” he prompted. “Do you agree?”

“If I don’t?”

“I’ll put my clothes back on and go. But I’ll stay out of sight so those men will believe I’m with you still.”

She was stunned by that bit of proposed gallantry. But she hadn’t been clear about her question and tried to clarify. “Nay. I mean if I agree and then I don’t follow orders? How would you punish me?” she asked.

“Ah.” A gleam lit his eyes. “What do you suppose I should do?”

The heat rose in her cheeks, so she must be blushing. A vivid image had come into her mind, and she wasn’t sure whether it fascinated or terrified her. It depended on how much she trusted him. But—he had asked.

“I know not,” she said, hoping she wasn’t making a terrible mistake. “What were you thinking?”

He stared hard at her as though he tried to read her mind through her eyes. “Perhaps I’ll spank your bottom until it glows pink. Or possibly I’ll use my belt, doubled over. Which frightens you more?”

She sucked in a sharp breath, but she wasn’t sure whether the twisting feeling in her stomach was dismay or excitement. “The belt,” she whispered.

He nodded. “Do you agree, then?”

“But you didn’t—”

“And I will not. You know enough to make your decision.”

How could she be so thrilled and so terrified at the same time? But when she looked at him, stared into his eyes, she knew he wouldn’t hurt her. And she knew she wanted this more than she’d ever wanted anything with a man before. Even so, she had a hard time making herself say it. “Aye,” she finally managed to choke out.

For the first time a real smile washed across his face. It transformed his features, turning him into a breathtakingly handsome man. Her heart hammered in her chest.

“Good,” he said. “Very good. Take off your dress. Slowly.”

Fianna drew a deep breath to calm herself before she pulled the ribbons that fastened her dress at the neck. She slipped it down off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She wore nothing beneath it.

His breath caught in his throat. “You’re beautiful. Come to me.”

She walked toward him, all too aware of how her breasts bounced as she moved. Her woman’s parts between her legs felt swollen and heavy.

When she was close enough, he reached out with both hands and touched either side of her face, running the palms across her cheeks until he could bury his fingers in her hair. His hands were strong and callused, but their clasp was careful, his strength moderated to avoid hurting her.

He leaned over and fitted his mouth over hers. Shocking tingles sparked from the place where his lips touched hers. She’d never guessed it could feel like that. Then he ran his tongue over her lips and nudged them apart. When he invaded her mouth, it sent a jolt through her entire body that she felt right down to her toes. She moaned deep in her throat. Heat began to burn inside and spread through her.

He put a hand behind her head to steady her as he kissed his way across her cheek to her ear. His tongue caressed the tender skin around the ear and he blew gently into it. After retracing the path and to the other ear and back, he began to move down along her jaw to her throat.

Her breath heaved in and out in hard pants as the fire he roused in her grew.

He shifted his grip on her, hands gliding down from her head to rest on either side of her chest. His thumbs slid inward until they brushed the undersides of her breasts. She was jolted again by shards of sensation tearing through her from the contact. Nothing had ever made her feel this before, certainly not her few encounters with males of the town. His fingers left trails of heated skin wherever he touched.

He released her for a moment while he moved back to sit on the one chair in the room, a bare, straight-backed thing that groaned and creaked when he moved. He settled himself as comfortably as he could get on it, then pulled her to him, lifted her onto his lap, facing him, straddling his legs, and slid her forward. In that position her legs were separated and her quim pressed hard against the fabric that barely contained his straining c**k. She felt it throbbing against her. He closed his eyes for a moment, and his breath came in loud, stretched pants until he adjusted to the contact.

It was almost obscenely delicious to be so intimately close to him. Feeling greatly daring, she reached up and brushed a hand against his face, running it down his cheek and along the neat, golden beard. With a finger, she traced the outline of his lips. He opened his mouth and sucked the tip of her finger inside. A thrill chased its way up and down her spine as the heat flowed through the finger and flooded her body.

He reached down to cup her breasts. He squeezed them gently, pushed them together and up, testing their weight and firmness.

When he brushed fingers across her n****e, the sensation hit her like a lightning bolt. Tiny knife-thrusts of pure pleasure lanced her repeatedly. For long moments he did naught but play with those sensitive tips, stroking and flicking them until she was near to sobbing with the pleasure. She’d had no idea her body had such capacity for delight.

Now the heat was gathering in her loins and a pressure started to mount. She knew not what it might be leading to, but there was a need there, a need only he could answer.

Fianna looped her arms around his neck to hold herself upright. She’d thought his touches brought ecstasy, but then he dipped his head and ran his tongue over the tip of one breast. A small shriek tore from her. It felt as though a flaming brand had been set to her, and she was blazing, burning up with unbearable heat of it. He looked up at her with lazy, gleaming eyes, smiling in satisfaction as she moaned and writhed.

He drew the entire n****e into his mouth, tongue circling and flicking at it while his lips sucked. She bounced up and down and wriggled against him, the pleasure so great she couldn’t keep still. He repeated the action with the other breast, then moved back and forth between them. Fianna sobbed aloud.

Henrik’s teeth scraped over the n****e in his mouth, and then he bit down on it, lightly at first, but gradually increasing the pressure until pain mingled with the pleasure. But the deliciously exciting sensation mixed the various aches so thoroughly she couldn’t tell where the pleasure ended and the pain began. She groaned loudly and buried her hands in his soft, silky hair, holding onto hanks of it, pulling on them when he transferred his attention to the other breast, biting down on that n****e until he brought her to the brink of screaming with an agonizing mix of excitement and ecstasy. She’d never have guessed pain could feel so sweet.

He released the n****e from the clutch of his teeth and soothed it with the tip of his tongue. Tears burned her eyes from the amazing combination of sensations. He stopped, watching her, and flicked away a drop of moisture that slid down her cheek. He bent forward and kissed her mouth hungrily. She pressed her chest against his, loving the way the hairs rasped against her sensitized n*****s. He felt so wonderfully hard and solid, but he held her so carefully and used just as much of his strength as needed.

She was shocked and felt bereft when he suddenly lifted her off his lap again and set her on her feet. Her legs shook so hard she wondered they held her up at all.

“Take off my boots,” he ordered.

After a moment of surprise, she knelt in front of him, removed his fur-lined boots, and stroked his feet. He permitted it for a moment, then stood up.

“Now remove my leggings,” he said. When she reached for the laces, he put a hand on her arm to stop her. “Without using your hands.”

She looked up at him, taking in the gleam in his light eyes. So…a challenge. She let her eyes slide down his long body to his waist, then lower. The laces on either hip and at his waist were key. Fortunately all were tied in bows at the top rather than knotted. If they were loosened, the leggings would slide down and off. She went to her knees again at his left side and grabbed the end of one lace in her teeth. A gentle tug undid the bow. She used her mouth again to loosen the top of the cross-hatched lacing. She slid around to his other side and repeated the process, which left just the laces in the center.

She knew what to do. But her mouth would be so close to him, an intimacy she could barely imagine. Still, this was also the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her. She leaned forward and nuzzled her face into his belly until she could take the lace between her teeth. A deep breath of the leather of his leggings and his essentially male scent made her pulse race again.

A quick tug on the lace released the bow. The leggings began to slide down his body, but the leather caught on the tip of his erect c**k. Fianna took another deep breath and leaned forward again. This time she grasped the leather itself between her teeth and lifted it off the jutting flesh, then let it drop to the floor.

She stared at him. It might be rude, it might not be wise, but she couldn’t help it. He was, simply, the most extraordinary man she’d ever seen. His c**k, longer than her hand, stood out from his body, thick and straight. The soft sacs of his balls hung between legs that were long, strongly muscled and nicely shaped.

“Very good,” he said, complimenting her efforts to undress him. “Now, kiss my cock.”

Her breath caught in her throat and a wave of dizziness passed quickly. She put a hand on the floor to steady herself. She couldn’t conceive of touching him that way. The idea paralyzed her.

“Fianna, I said to kiss my cock.” His words had a hard, dangerous edge.

She heard it but couldn’t make herself move.

“Fianna,” he repeated.

“I cannot,” she said. “I’ve never… I’ve never even touched a man there.”

“Are you refusing my order?” he asked.

“I don’t want to refuse, but I…”

He bent down, took her arm, and drew her to her feet. “I warned you what would happen if you disobeyed an order, did I not?”