A little Viking foreplay … a peak from Raven’s Blood … Enjoy
By the time the wine was finished, I was feeling warm and languid. “You’ve been to Francia and Ireland … but where is home?”
“I am from Västergarn, Gotland, an island off the eastern coast of Sweden. My Grandfather is Jarl there.” He leaned against the log, the fire between us. “And you are from England.”
“I live a day’s ride from here. It was quite the adventure to meet you this evening.” I proceeded to tell him about Ealhswith and her daring plan to help me with my deception.
“I am forever in her debt.” He poked the fire with a stick, sending a procession of hot, orange embers floating upwards. “I hadn’t thought of the means necessary for you to meet me. I was focused solely on what it took to make my way back to you.”
It hadn’t occurred to me there would be challenges for him either, but I felt rather pleased with the notion that he had gone to some length to see me again. “What could possibly stop a Viking from getting what he wants?”
The distance between us evaporated, and he pulled me onto his lap, my skirt rucked up to my waist, his intentions hard and clear beneath me.
“Nothing,” he said and proved it.