Cum For The Viking 4 (The Sins of the Virgins) Read online

“This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” said a booming voice, I recognized instantly.

  Ari pushed me from him, jumping to his feet; his trousers were around his ankles. He pulled them up, securing them quickly. “My Liege.”

  “What is the meaning of this?” King Gunnlaug’s expression was murderous. “You were to prepare her for me, not fornicate with her!”

  “My…Liege…I’ve…er…failed. She took advantage of me, sir.” This was vastly amusing, and I laughed at what Ari had said. He glared at me. “I beg your pardon, my Liege. I only meant to perform my duties. I…underestimated her response. I should’ve been more careful.”

  A string of curse words fell from Randver’s lips, as his anger escalated. “I’ll have you thrown to the pigs, you little shit! How dare you take MY woman!”

  He bowed his head. “I’ll accept whatever punishment you—”

  A loud banging registered from below, which held our attention. Randver strode to the window, peering out through the blurry glass. “What is this?”

  “My Liege?”

  “Who are these men?”

  I grasped a blanket, holding it to my chest, wondering what was happening. Shouts sounded in the monastery, followed by a series of loud bangs.

  King Gunnlaug brandished his sword; his expression was fierce. “We’re under attack. Sound the alarm!”

  Chapter Eight

  They ran from the room, leaving me staring after them. I hastened to dress, using a cloth and water first to wipe away Ari’s seed. Being with him had been a wonderful experience, and I wouldn’t allow myself to feel guilt over it. Tying the belt around my waist, I went to the window, glancing down at a gathering of men, who were dressed in tunics, surcoats, and capes, which bulged with hidden armor. These were not Vikings! They were our men! I wiped my sleeve against the glass to get a better look, recognizing my father on a horse next to a man in a thick, steel helmet that covered his entire face. Behind them were dozens of men, dressed and ready for war.

  I slipped into shoes, snatching my cloak, and raced for the door. The hallway was empty. The noise of splintering wood echoed, as something large shattered. The corridor was lit at intervals by candles in brass sconces. My mission was clear; I would find my mother and sister and sit with them, until it was safe to emerge from the hiding place. The bookcase moved easily, as I pulled on it, leaving an opening large enough for me to enter. I slid through and faced my family.

  “Charlotte!” My mother hugged me. “What’s happening?”

  “Father’s here with men! We’re to be freed soon.”

  “Oh, thank goodness,” exclaimed Emma. “It’s been dreadful. What an ordeal.”

  My mother held a small dagger. “I’m ready for any eventuality.”

  The sound of metal hitting metal reverberated, and the shouts of men could be heard. “They’re fighting now!” Emma grasped my arm. “How many did he bring?”

  “Dozens.”

  Mother looked worried. “How many Vikings?”

  “There’s a Danish king and six more, I think. I’m not quite sure.” Hope flared within me. “The odds might be in our favor for once.”

  “But what if more Vikings arrive?” Emma wrung her hands.

  “Shouldn’t we rush out to meet them?” asked mother. “We’ll have to make a run for it.”

  “Perhaps.” What would we do? I paced the room, while questions bounced around my head in a jumble of conflicting thoughts. The bookcase suddenly moved, revealing a man dressed in a cape and armor. It was my father! “Oh!”

  My mother’s expression brightened. “Oscar! Thank heavens!”

  “Come ladies. Quick, before reinforcements arrive. We got lucky tonight, but we must leave now.”

  We rushed from the room, following him down the hallway, running in the opposite direction of the door. Within moments we emerged into the cold night, as a slight drizzle dampened the air. Horses waited for us, one seated the man I had seen through the window, whose face was hidden beneath a heavy helmet.

  “Get on, and go!” shouted father.

  He helped my mother and sister onto their horses. I was to ride with the knight, whose steed was impressive, the animal neighing at my approach. The man’s armor was adorned with the symbols of the Templar Knights cross. He grasped my arm, lifting me before him. His strength was apparent in the steely arm that surrounded my waist. He kicked the horse into flight, the animal bounding forward. The fighting continued behind us, while we galloped into the field and raced amongst the wheat, the smell of wet grass filling my senses. The man behind me felt like metal due to the solidness of his breastplates, bracers, and arm armor. His legs were on either side of my thighs, while his arm was secured protectively around me.

  We rode for an unspecified amount of time, until our gait slowed, yet we continued through a densely treed forest, until we came to a wattle-and-daub hut with a thatched roof. After dismounting, we were led inside, where father lit a fire. Someone had prepared for our arrival, leaving extra wood on the floor in a bundle, bread and meat on the table, and several bottles of wine. Mother lit a candle.

  “Oh, to be free,” she murmured happily.

  The man I had ridden with removed his helmet, dropping the heavy item on the floor. He was surprisingly handsome, with dark, nearly curly hair and a close-shaved beard. His nose was slightly crooked from having been broken a time or two, and there was a small scar on his cheek. But it was his eyes that held my attention, as they settled on me, heat flaring in his look. There was something familiar about him, but the memory was a tease, never fully materializing. He’d begun the task of removing his armor, which was no easy feat. Piece by piece dropped to the floor in a pile of metal, until he was free of the encumbrances.

  My father stood with his hands on his hips. “Well, girl, won’t you welcome your husband? Do you not recognize the man who stands before you?”

  Shock reverberated through me. “What?”

  “She knows you not, Rupert,” he laughed. “The lass is dumbfounded.”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me,” he said in a deep, pleasing voice. “It’s been years.”

  “Ah, but it’ll make the reunion that much sweeter.”

  Mother beamed. “It’s so good to see you again, Lord Colby. We thought you’d perished on your crusade. The saints have blessed us today.”

  My sister quipped, “Well, you’ve returned in the nick of time, Lord Colby. I was wondering when you’d make an honest woman out of my sister.”

  I glared at Emma, wishing her skewered with a thousand daggers. “Um…welcome home…husband.”

  His gaze rested on me. “Indeed.”

  I felt myself responding to him in an all too familiar way, my body tingling from his lusty appraisal; however, this time, I was allowed to feel these emotions, and there would be no guilt. How would he react to knowing the heathens had taken me…repeatedly? My happiness lessened then, realizing that he would be unhappy. He seemed to sense the change; his expression was thoughtful.

  “Are we safe here?” asked mother. “What will happen now?”

  “We’ve won the battle, but the war is hardly over.” Father removed his chainmail. “Men have gathered to fight, but more are needed. With Rupert’s help, we’ll amass our own army and deal with the heathens once and for all.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Mother sat at the table, pouring wine into a cup. “I’m parched.” My sister joined her, tearing off a chunk of bread.

  I remained standing, eyeing my husband, who stared at me. He had returned after all these years, and now we were face to face. How would I ever explain to him what had happened to me. How would he ever forgive me for enjoying what the Vikings had done? What sort of a man was he anyhow? I knew almost nothing about him, save for the fact that his family was rich and I had been betrothed to him since the age of two.

  He neared, taking my hand. “Lady Colby. We should talk.”

  “Yes.”

  I was led
to the furthest corner of the little hut, where a lumpy looking bed stood against the wall. My family sat at the table and ate and drank, talking amongst themselves, although their eyes followed us.

  Rupert sat on the bed. “Sit with me.”

  “Thank you.” I felt shy suddenly, afraid and weary.

  “You’ve survived a great ordeal, Charlotte. So have I. I nearly died more times than I can count. I’ve seen atrocities…” his look was grim, “I’ve done things…I cannot forget or forgive. I return to find a war at home. Everything my family owns is gone now. My sisters have been defiled; our home is burnt to the ground, and my mother’s ill.”

  “I’m so sorry, Rupert.”

  “I know my wife not. We’re strangers.”

  “Yes.”

  “Your look tells me a lot.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve been with those men…are you well?”

  “I’ve not been harmed.”

  “It matters not what you’ve done. I want you to know that.”

  I understood his meaning perfectly. “I had no choice, if you must know. Emma and I…were taken. We did what we had to survive.” I stared into his eyes, seeing compassion, interest, and something else. “Will you stay now?”

  “I must rid Dorset of this infestation. I’ll do whatever I can to accomplish the task. I want to stay. This is my home. This is my land.”

  Our eyes had yet to break contact, as I found him to be nearly mesmerizing. I never remembered him like this. He was slightly older than a boy when I had married him. The air around us was charged with a sensual undercurrent that was impossible to ignore. He smelled of horse and leather, a heady combination, mixed with the spicy fragrance of some perfumed oil he wore. It was unfamiliar and something he must have brought with him from his travels.

  We were quiet for long moments, as the invisible layer of tension swirled over our head. At long last I said, “I’m happy you’ve returned. I just wish…”

  “What?” he leaned in closer.

  “I just wish we were alone.” Those scandalous words lingered heavily, adding to the sense of expectation, as my pussy began to throb. He was my husband. I could enjoy him lawfully. I had the blessing of the church to indulge in his flesh, and he in mine. There would be no shame in it.

  “Tis unfortunate.” His smile was meaningful.

  I touched his thigh, although I hadn’t meant to be so brazen. “I like the looks of you, husband.” There was a husky edge to my tone.

  “I’m relieved to hear it.” His mouth was near my ear. “Perhaps later, after everyone’s asleep, you can welcome me home properly.”

  “Perhaps.” My smile was teasing.

  The End

  A special guest preview of

  Claimed By The Vikings

  by Francis Ashe

  When Leta escaped from the terror of marauders destroying her home village, the last thing she expected was to fall into the arms of Ragnar Thyrsson, a mighty Viking who swore to keep her safe. After a harrowing escape from a group of English brigands, Ragnar scouts ahead to make sure the path is clear. Will Finn, Hrolfgar, Vorix and Tyr, be able to keep their savage lust under control, or will Leta be CLAIMED BY THE VIKINGS?

  Warning: This 13500+ word standalone erotic sizzler features four mighty warriors with great appetites for meat, mead and women, a VERY rough night in a meadow, tender love, deep secrets, explicit group sex, double penetration, facial and internal finishes, and a lass with a face and body so sweet that Freya herself is jealous!

  A taste to tickle your fancy...

  The night was full dark, but the campfire still had a bit of smolder to it – enough for me to barely make out the man’s hard features, and the small gap between his front teeth.

  “What’s going on?” I whispered.

  “We’re alone, finally, is what’s going on.”

  “What do you mean we’re finally alone? Hrolfgar’s right outside the tent on duty. And anyway, why does it matter if we’re in a tent together? What’s so exciting about that?”

  “Hrolfgar’s drunk and asleep. And if you can’t figure out what there is to be excited about, I’ll show you.”

  A vague hint of the meat from earlier, and the mead we passed around the fire lingered on the youngest Viking’s breath as his lips pressed to mine and his fingers tangled in the hair on the back of my head.

  “What are you-? No! Get off me!” I pushed him back. I tried to hold him at arm’s length, but tiny little Leta controlling one of these husky warriors was just not very likely. Soon he had both of my wrists in his hands and flipped me over on my back.

  With him between my legs, I felt the Viking’s prick, hard against my body. I twisted my hips, this way and that, to unbalance him, but as time went on, my efforts started to flag a little, and then I gave up.

  Both he and I watched each other’s face for a few moments. Breathing in, breathing out. His chest rose and fell, and when he let go of my wrists instead of slapping at him or trying to stick my thumbs in his eyes, I flattened my palms against the muscles above his navel. My fingertips bounced over his rippled, ridged stomach until I touched his...

  “What’s this?” Hrolfgar’s voice was thick and soupy, but he was awake, at least. “What’s going on? Vorix? Why are you in my – hey, wait a minute.”

  End Of Preview

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