Chapter Ten
Kristin tossed a couple of logs into the fire pit then used a charred branch of wood to prod the smouldering embers into a decent blaze. She lit one of the whale oil lamps that Merewyn had lent to her, set it down upon an upturned barrel, and started to remove her clothing in readiness for her bed. First, she sat to take off her stout leather shoes, then the wool stockings. Standing again, she glanced about her new home as she unfastened the ties that secured her thick woollen skirt, inordinately pleased with her small but neat longhouse. This was the first dwelling that she truly felt was hers. She expected to be happy here.
A knock on the door caused her to halt. The nattmal over for the evening, this was late for visitors to be calling.
“Who is there?”
“Nyle,” came the low response, “and my brother is with me.”
“Is there a problem?” Kristin quickly retied the ribbons on her skirt and went to open the door.
They pair stood on her threshold, their rugged good looks undimmed by the lack of illumination. Kristin ignored the now familiar fluttering of her stomach. Puzzled at their unexpected visit, she regarded her Celts as she now privately termed them, then stepped back and gestured the pair to enter.
“We had no wish to startle you,” began Bowdyn.
“I was not startled, merely surprised to find you on my doorstep so late. What brings you here?”
“A decent mug of ale would do to start with.” Nyle declined the offer of a seat and instead poured himself a generous measure from the jug his sister had sent over earlier in the day.
“You are quite welcome,” muttered Kristin. She settled herself on one of her low benches alongside Bowdyn and waited until Nyle finished prowling her little dwelling and sat down with them. “And now that the pleasantries are concluded you might oblige me by explaining why you are here, both of you, disturbing my rest.”
Bowdyn narrowed his eyes and appeared to be contemplating what to say next. He did not speak, though. Instead, he reached for her and cupped her chin in his hand. It was a strong grip, powerful, though not threatening. In the flickering light of the oil lamp his eyes appeared even darker than usual. She felt herself to be caught by his intense gaze, ensnared somehow like a rabbit in a trap, and quite unable to look away.
“What are you doing…?”
“Be quiet, Kristin.” Bowdyn’s tone was low, sensual, despite the apparent harshness of his words. He shifted, moved in, and she found herself pinned to the spot, unable to retreat though not bound by any ropes or chains. He merely commanded her, silently, and she obeyed.
Kristin’s lips parted, at the same instant that Bowdyn covered her mouth with his.
He swallowed her gasp, and she would no longer deny being startled should he enquire. He showed no indication that he might ask, however, as he deepened the kiss, spearing his tongue between her lips to dance with her own. A strange sound reached her ears, partway between a groan and a mewling. She realised it was she who was making such an unaccustomed vocalisation, but that was of no consequence to her as she lifted her hands to grasp fistfuls of Bowdyn’s tunic.
Through the heady sensuality of the kiss she became aware of another sensation. Nyle’s hard, lean body was pressed against her back, his arms about her waist and now tugging at the laces she had so recently undone then hastily refastened. Kristin stiffened, would have sought to wriggle free but for the seductive voice in her ear.
“Be still for us, sweetheart. Nothing will happen unless you wish it to.”
Bowdyn released her mouth and started to leave a trail of little kisses along her shoulder, shoving aside her cloak as he did so.
“S-something is already happening,” she managed, her own tone unusually breathless now.
“Do you wish it?” murmured Nyle.
“I… I…”
“Do you?” The knot tying her skirt in place relinquished the struggle and her clothing loosened.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, I wish it.”
* * *
Soon, later, tomorrow, perhaps, she would take the time to consider, to reflect, to seek to make sense of all of this. But not now, not quite yet.
Instead, she would savour these stolen, precious moments and allow her body to float on the heady tide of pleasure crashing through her as Nyle drew her back to lie across his thighs and Bowdyn slid her skirt from her, to be followed by her cloak and tunic. Clad in just the cotton smock that she wore next to her skin, Kristin lay motionless, drifting. She closed her eyes, her ears and other senses finely attuned to the low voices, the achingly gentle touches and caresses as one man—she was no longer certain which—combed his fingers through the long tresses of her hair, now mysteriously loosened from its usual plait. The other feathered his fingertip up the outside of her thigh and under her thin undergarment.
A thought floated across her mind. For such large men, these Celts are unusually skilful with their fingers.
“We intend to make you feel very, very good, little Viking.” Nyle’s soft voice, seductive. “Do you object?”
Why? Why would I object?
“Why indeed?” Even as she dimly wondered how he knew her very thoughts he kissed her hair, then released her.
Kristin might have protested. Did he not just say…? She was silenced when strong arms slipped beneath her legs and her shoulders and she was lifted from the bench to be deposited moments later on the soft furs of her own bed. She managed to prise her eyelids open. Bowdyn lay stretched out alongside her. At the foot of the pallet stood Nyle, the lamp in his hand. He set it down in a small alcove in the wall then strode around to her other side and crouched beside her.
“You will submit to us. To both of us. In return for your obedience, we shall offer you pleasure such as you have not experienced before.”
“My obedience? Why…?”
Nyle’s sensual grin caused her stomach to clench and a thousand butterflies to take to the wing inside her. “I know ‘tis not your usual way, little Viking, but you will try. For us.”
She frowned. What madness might this be? These Celts were the oddest breed, but even so… “I am not quite sure—”
“Then let us be sure. You need only do as you are told.”
“You will find the novelty quite… compelling,” offered Bowdyn from behind her.
Would she? A distinctly odd prickling at the base of her spine suggested she might, if she could just manage to set aside her normal tendency to take charge. Where had the heady languor of just a minute before gone? In those brief, mindless moments she would have believed herself capable of anything, if only the glorious sensations would never end.
“Our Kristin prefers to act, not talk. She needs to be shown how to submit.” Nyle was no longer addressing her.
“You are right, brother. And we shall start by being rid of this.” Bowdyn tugged at the fabric of her smock. “You will remove it, Kristin.”
“I…”
“Now,” commanded Nyle.
Wetness pooled between her thighs. Arousal mocked her, desire nibbled at her pride and eroded her self-control. Modesty seemed an encumbrance, suddenly, an irrelevance. She abandoned rational thought, reached for the hem of the garment and attempted to pull it upward.
“Allow us to assist you.” Bowdyn eased her into a semi-sitting position and supported her back. Nyle drew the smock up and over her head then tossed it to the side. The cool brush of night air fluttered across her naked body. Her nipples swelled, hardened. Kristin resisted the urge to wrap her arms about herself.
“Good. Very good.” Bowden took one of the pebbling nubs between his fingers and gently rolled it. Kristin gasped. She had heard other women whisper that this manner of touch could be most pleasing, but the reality had remained a mystery throughout her brief marriage. No longer. Kristin arched her back and let out an astonished whimper.
“Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head. “No. Please, I need…” She trailed off, at a loss for the words to verbalise anything of the chaotic babble of desire surging through her.
Again, she found herself bodily lifted, and this time set down on top of Nyle, her body draped over his as though boneless. He half sat, leaning against the outer wall of her dwelling and she rested against his chest. The roughness of his clothing abraded her skin, but the sensation was one she found pleasure in. She felt safe in his embrace.
Bowdyn released his teasing grip on her nipple and started to kiss his way down her stomach. He dipped his tongue into her belly button and she jerked hard.
Nyle’s embrace tightened. He was not rough, not in the slightest, but she became aware that he held her, that she was restrained, laid bare and available for Bowdyn’s caresses.
Kristin moaned, her senses rioting now. She should be outraged, demanding that they release her at once, threatening to unman the pair of them, personally, with a blunt dagger. Yet nothing was further from her mind. She stretched, arching again, barely resisted the urge to purr.
Nyle relaxed his grip on her arms and brought his own hands around to cup her breasts. He held both, as though testing their weight, caressing the soft mounds then he took each nipple between his fingers and thumbs and started to squeeze. His touch was less gentle than Bowdyn’s had been, more demanding. He increased the pressure, twisted the tender buds as they lengthened and throbbed. Pleasure mingled with pain, yet still she writhed in his arms and soundlessly begged for more.
His lips were on her neck, his tongue teasing as his fingers tormented. Kristin wriggled, squirmed, her bottom rubbing against the growing bulge that nudged her buttocks. He was aroused too, and the knowledge filled her with immense satisfaction.
“Tell me what you feel, what you want,” Nyle paused to murmur into the shell of her ear.
“I… I do not know. This is… I mean, I cannot…”
“Open your legs, little Viking.” The command was softly spoken, yet firm. Nyle expected her to obey.
So, she did. She planted her feet on the mattress between Nyle’s long legs and parted her knees.
Bowdyn chuckled. “A tolerable effort, but we can do better.” He took her left ankle and lifted it over Nyle’s leg then set it down on the outside of his brother’s thigh. He repeated the action with her other ankle, then set his hands at her waist to ease her further up Nyle’s body. Thus positioned, Nyle had ample access to her breasts. He could toy with her, torture her nipples as he pleased, whilst at the same time her thighs were spread wide for his brother. “Ah, yes,” Bowdyn confirmed, “much better.”
“Is she wet?” enquired Nyle pleasantly enough.
Bowdyn drew the flat of his palm between her legs, pausing to part the lips of her pussy as though to particularly examine that spot, then rubbed the heel of his hand on the sensitive nubbin at the front.
Kristin stifled a squeal. She knew of that place, had discovered it for herself whilst bathing, but no hand apart from hers had ever ventured there. Baldvin Ryggiason had shown not the slightest interest in exploring his bride’s more sensual desires. Until these last few minutes she, herself, had been largely unaware such urges existed. Certainly, the powerful nature of her own arousal had been a mystery to her. These Celts were a revelation indeed.
“Yes, she is wet.” Bowdyn raised his hand to show his brother.
“Did I not tell you it would be so? It takes but a gentle tug on her nipples,” Nyle paused to squeeze and twist again by way of demonstration, “and she gushes like a waterfall. I believe the staid, proper, and very stern Kristin Lofnsdottir is nothing more than a wanton at heart. Is this not so, little Viking?”
Wanton? The very word sent her senses reeling. Could he be right? Oh, she most sincerely hoped so though the words became lodged in her throat. She could not answer. She could only feel.
“Open the lips of her cunny and put your fingers inside her. I believe this is what she would like. Am I right, my Viking?”
Freya, help me… The silent plea went unanswered. Kristin had to shift for herself in this matter. So, she did. She nodded.
“There, it is as I thought. But be gentle, brother. I get the impression our Viking is unaccustomed to such treatment.”
Kristin could have blessed Nyle for his perceptiveness. It was as though he had somehow crawled into her mind and knew all her secrets, her desires as well as her fears.
Her brief interlude of clarity and coherence shattered the moment Bowdyn spread her nether lips with his fingers and inserted one long digit into her tight channel. She expected to flinch, to hurt. Her previous experience of this act, though infrequent, had been sufficient for her to know she found it uncomfortable, painful even. And oddly disappointing.
All those doubts and uncertainties were swept aside in the surge of pleasure that threatened to engulf her. Bowdyn withdrew his finger then drove it deep again, harder this time, faster.
“If this hurts, you may tell us,” whispered Nyle.
“It… it does not hurt,” she managed. “Oh. Oh!”
Bowdyn increased the speed of his thrusts and added a second finger. The friction was unbearably sweet yet still not enough. Kristin squeezed her inner walls around his long digits and circled her hips.
“I believe our Viking is rather enjoying this. Is that not also correct, Kristin?”
Must she answer? Could she? Was she truly enjoying what was happening to her or was it some other compulsion that drove her to thrust her hips forward and consider begging for more?
“Kristin? Tell us that you like this.”
“I… I do not know…”
“Do you wish that Bowdyn would stop?”
The fingers inside her went still and Kristin groaned. “No, please, do not stop…”
Bowdyn duly recommenced his sensual play, angling his hand in such a manner that only served to increase her pleasure. He used his thumb to rub the sensitive nubbin at the front of her entrance, and Kristin wondered if she might expire right here from the sheer delight of it. Waves of pleasure pulsed, the sensual trembling spiralled out from her core where Bowdyn’s agile fingers worked their sorcery. The tremors reached her fingers, her toes, the very ends of her hair.
Nyle pressed her plump nipples between his fingers, tugging and squeezing in time with the driving thrusts that sent her inner channel into a riot of spasming. Kristen lay helpless, overwhelmed as her body convulsed, her channel contracted, and she imagined herself to be spinning weightless through the air. Her body was no longer her own, the sudden onslaught of sensation blossoming, blooming, overflowing.
The turbulence settled. Sensation receded. Her senses returned. She lay still, spent, resting against Nyle, who caressed her hair and stroked her tender nipples in a manner she found both soothing and intimate, a gentle pleasuring that no longer stamped its feet and clamoured for more. Her breathing returned to normal, and at last she began to think it might be possible to consider opening her eyes.
She did so. Bowdyn lay at her side, on his back, his arm behind his head. He glanced at her and she could swear he smirked.
“You are back with us, little Viking.” This from Nyle, who remained behind her, still cradling her in his arms as he teased her tender nipples.
“I… I think I would like my clothes back, please.”
“Are you sure? That would be a pity.” Bowdyn rolled onto his side to better regard her.
As her senses returned, so did her discarded modesty. Kristin sat up and attempted to cover her breasts with her arms. Both men grinned, unmoved by her furious glower.
“Ah, we have our she-Viking back,” observed Nyle. “I suspect she is about to share her opinion of us. There will be threats, I fear. Promises of dire retribution.”
“Hmmm,” agreed Bowdyn. He smiled at her, the dimples in his cheeks never more prominent. Both brothers looked handsome, dominant, and very, very pleased with themselves. “Very well,” continued Bowdyn. “Let us be hearing it. Then, once you have vented your wrath, we shall explain to you how things might be between us in the future.”
Kristin’s gaze swung from one to the other. She knelt, one arm pressed to her breasts, and used her other hand to shove her unruly hair back from her face. “What did you do? Just then. What happened?”
“We pleasured you. And you enjoyed it.”
Kristin slowly nodded. She was no liar, she had enjoyed the experience. Even so, it had also unnerved her. Her response had been strange, totally unexpected. They had stripped her, laid her out between them, played with her body and caused her to feel things beyond her imagining, to lose control of her body in a manner she had never dreamed possible.
She had been wed. She did not consider herself an innocent, yet she had never experienced the like of this before. Was not pleasure something that men took from coupling, not women? But that which had just occurred, that was not coupling. Indeed, neither of her Celts had so much as unbuttoned their tunics. They were fully dressed, yet she was still expected to sit between them naked as the day she came into the world.
“My clothes…” she sought to insist.
“Soon,” Nyle assured her.
Kristin tilted her chin at him. Their preference that she remain unclothed could have but one interpretation. “You mean to take me? Both of you?”
Nyle’s lip quirked. “We do, soon, though not this evening. This evening was intended merely to gain your attention. And whet your appetite.”
“My appetite? I do not follow.”
“Had we marched in here and suggested you give yourself to both of us, you would have likely ordered us from your door and bade us to never return. Or you might have run screaming to Mathios…”
Bowdyn shook his head. “I doubt she would have done that, brother. She would have been more likely to settle the matter in a more direct manner.”
“Quite,” Nyle agreed. “So, we decided to not ask. Not to suggest. Forgiveness is easier to seek than permission when dealing with a strong-willed and obstinate female.”
“I am none of those things.” Kristin bristled with indignation.
“You are most certainly female,” argued Bowdyn. “As for the rest…” He shrugged.
“You want my forgiveness?” Kristin was somewhat baffled. Her emotions were shredded. She was utterly confused by her own reactions, but of one thing she was certain. These dark-eyed Celts had not wronged her. They had not forced her, and they had been so gentle with her that she had almost wept. What had taken place between the three of them was so different, a world away from the hurried, perfunctory fumbling she had endured with Baldvin Ryggiason. Nyle and Bowdyn had treated her as though she was precious to them, as though her pleasure mattered.
“No forgiveness is necessary.” She met first Nyle’s steady gaze, then Bowdyn’s. “I… I should thank you for your kind attentions. Both of you. It was… it was very nice.”
Their smiles deepened, as did those delectable dimples they shared. “It was indeed very nice,” agreed Bowdyn. “Which is why we intend to do it again.”
“Now?” The prospect surprised but did not dismay her.
“Not right now,” said Nyle. “But soon.”
“Will it be the same? Will I feel those strange things again?”
“Aye, I think we can promise that. And there will be more. We shall fuck you, of course. I shall watch as Bowdyn sinks his cock into you, and he will observe as I do the same. You will even take both of us together, eventually.”
How could that even be possible? Kristin furrowed her brow, bewildered, but oddly certain that if they said it was so, then it would be.
“So, now you have had a taste, you know how it could be between the three of us, we want your agreement to continue. We want you to explore with us. Together, we will discover the world and each other.”
Not for the first time since they had knocked on her door this evening, Kristin found herself at a loss for words. Explore. Discover. Her imagination soared, her curiosity was suddenly alive with new and exciting possibilities. The voyage before her took on a fresh and intriguing dimension. She was exhilarated and terrified in equal measure.
But above all of that, towering over the tumult of doubt, confusion, and sheer wonderment at this unexpected turn in their relationship, one fact stood out. Relief flooded her, the unspoken concern that had dogged her for weeks now evaporated. She was free of the fear that had haunted her almost from the first moment she arrived here at Agnartved.
She would not be called upon to choose between the brothers.
Kristin had agonised over which of her Celts she might prefer and was no nearer arriving at a conclusion than she had been when first they all three came together. Even if she could articulate a preference, she was under no illusions about the impact her choice would have, whichever brother she selected. It would destroy them, and she could never do that. She loved them both and had almost managed to convince herself that a life with neither would be preferable to this awful uncertainty.
“Is… is such a thing possible?” she whispered.
“It is if we make it so.”
Kristin peered at Nyle, considering his enigmatic words. “Is this your way? The way of the Celts?”
Bowdyn answered. “No, not usually, but we find it suits us, so we shall make it our way.”
“You have shared women before?” Surely, she would have heard if such a thing were to happen…
“On occasions, yes. Though not of late. And never with a woman who we cared for as we do you, Kristin. We want you to know that you are special to us. We will take care of you.”
“I know that. I have always known, even when we behaved as enemies. Beneath the angry words, the insults, there was even then a spark of something different. I felt it…”
Bowdyn inclined his head. “I was a blind fool, as my brother pointed out on many occasions.”
Kristin waved her free hand, dismissing the past. It was of no importance to her any more. What mattered was now. And their future. Already she was turning over the practicalities in her mind. “But, what would others say? Even were I to wed one of you, it would seem strange to our people.”
Nyle shrugged. “We do not care what other Vikings think, nor Celts. This is between us, just us three and our lives together. Are you with us, Kristin Lofnsdottir?”
This was it. This was the question at the heart of all of this. Nothing else mattered, not really. Kristin laced her fingers together, no longer mindful of her nudity. She closed her eyes, considered. Imagined…
Her lips curled in a soft smile. She offered a hand to each of them, and when they were linked she gave her answer. “Yes, I am with you, my Celts.”