Chapter Eight
What on earth had possessed her? Merewyn could barely comprehend what she had done. The instant the words were out she knew she should recall them, swallow them again as though she had not spoken. But she did not.
Instead she allowed this fierce Viking chief to tilt her face up to meet his kiss.
Mathios’ tongue pressed against the seam of her lips and Merewyn opened her mouth. His tongue speared inside to tangle with hers. They performed a strange and intimate dance, one of tasting and caressing and sucking until she was breathless, the air catching in her throat. At last he lifted his head to break the kiss, and peeled the cloak away from her shoulders.
Before, she had been mortified by the weight of his scrutiny. Now, Merewyn relished it. She lacked experience but was convinced she discerned approval in his heated cerulean gaze as he bared her breasts again.
“So pretty…” he murmured before lowering his head to take her engorged nipple between his lips. He squeezed it, then scraped his teeth against the turgid bud. She writhed in his arms, loving the sensations he evoked yet she was vulnerable too. He could hurt her. He had said he would not do her harm, but he so easily could. He was a Viking, and they were dangerous.
“Please…” She uttered the word, unsure what came next. Did she want him to stop or continue? Her body took the decision for her. She arched her back and thrust her breast up against his mouth.
Mathios increased the pressure. He sucked her sensitive tip at the same time as he pinched the other between his thumb and forefinger. It hurt, and it felt so good she could have wept with the delight of it. Merewyn’s senses were in chaos, her responses a bewildering fusion of need and fear.
Impelled to touch him, she reached for Mathios. She clung to his shoulder, tunnelled her fingers through his hair. It was silky, softer than she had imagined. She closed her eyes and allowed her senses to reach out, to accept whatever he offered.
Mathios released her nipple and Merewyn experienced a sharp pang of disappointment. She opened her mouth to plead with him, to beg him to please not stop, to never stop, but the words died in her throat when he traced a path of kisses down her stomach. He paused at her belly to lick and to press open-mouth kisses against her flesh. It felt sublime. She tingled between her thighs. He moved on, further, deeper, edging toward that place he had touched before. It was her most secret place, the spot where pleasure lurked, where desire and arousal might be unleashed. He knew of it, had found it with ease as though he knew her intimately, knew all her private yearnings.
Mathios shifted from under her and Merewyn winced as her punished bottom pressed against the hay. The discomfort was short-lived, or irrelevant. Mathios opened the cloak fully and spread it out beneath her, He placed his hands on her knees and gently pushed them outward, spreading her thighs. Merewyn gazed up at him. She knew what he would do, how he would touch her now and she wanted it more than she could recall wanting anything before. She needed his touch more than she needed her next breath.
He smiled, then lowered his gaze to peruse that most private place. She was embarrassed, the flush crept up her face from her chest. She felt the mortifying heat of it, but could not, would not stop now.
She wanted him. Wanted this.
He slid his fingers through her slick folds, then smiled at her. “So wet, my Celt. I think you like to be spanked.”
She shook her head. Surely such a notion was impossible.
“It hurts, I know, but after…” He stroked her quivering cunny.
She cried out in sheer delight, thrust her hips up toward his questing hand. He slid one long finger inside her and she moaned in surprised pleasure. This was a new sensation, one she had not experienced before in the secluded privacy of her pallet. He drove his finger in and out, slow at first, then harder, faster. Merewyn revelled in the unfamiliar sensation, her inner muscles contracting around him.
“So tight,” he murmured, “and so hot.”
“Please, that feels so good. I want… I want…” She had no idea what she might want but surely this Viking did. His mastery of her senses had been unerring thus far.
“I know,” he replied. “Soon. But first…”
He shoved both hands under her bottom to cup each tender cheek. She was sore, it hurt. She cried out but he just chuckled. “A reminder of who is master here. Do you not agree, little Celt?”
“Yes,” she breathed, loving the raw sensuality of the moment. “Yes, please.”
He lifted her bottom from the hay and used his thumbs to part her inner lips. Then, as she watched in utter incredulity, he lowered his mouth to her cunny and he started to lick.
Oh, sweet Jesus and all the saints! Her breath left her body in a whoosh. Merewyn gasped, fighting for air. She was flying, weightless. He drove his tongue into that place where his finger had been just moments before, swirled it around as she moaned in delight. The pad of his thumb found her pleasure bud and stroked there, and Merewyn wondered if she might expire from the sheer joy of it. Was it too much for her heart to bear? Surely no one, no one ever before, had felt as she did now. Her senses reeled, her body was no longer hers.
This was beyond heavenly. This was paradise on earth.
The climax rushed at her, spiralling from deep within her core. Her inner muscles clenched and spasmed, she could see the stars although she was sure her eyes were closed and she let out a shriek of surprised joy. Mathios continued to stroke and lick and drive his tongue in and out of her cunny, drawing the sensation out, forcing her to experience the tumultuous release again and again until she was fully spent.
At last it was over. She lay limp, draped over the cloak like a damp rag.
Mathios gazed down at her, propped up on one elbow. Merewyn managed a self-conscious smile.
“Do you feel more settled now? After that?”
She took a moment to recollect his meaning, then she nodded, though she remained uncertain. He saw it. Did he miss nothing?
“Tell me what you want, Merewyn.”
She cast aside any remaining vestiges of modesty or caution. “I want you,” she whispered. “I want you inside me.”
“Then you shall have what you want, little Celt.”
He knelt up and unfastened the leather belt at his waist. He set that aside, and the dagger slotted into the back, then tugged his tunic over his head. Merewyn watched, open-mouthed. She recalled seeing her brothers similarly unclothed on those occasions they used the bathtub, or on days when the sun was especially hot, but her siblings bore no resemblance to the man before her now. Mathios was quite simply magnificent. His shoulders were wide, but she had known that. She really should have been prepared for the chiselled bulge of muscle and sinew, honed by a life spent at sea, or practising the arts of war and conquest, but the reality before her still caused her to catch her breath. It was not only his torso that drew her attention. His upper arms also were contoured with hard muscle. He oozed power and strength and masculine vitality, qualities that should terrify her but instead she found herself intrigued and irresistibly drawn to him. Her gaze fell on the scar that marred his lower left arm and she wondered what had happened to cause it. Perhaps she might ask him… later.
He got to his feet and for a few moments towered over her. He leaned down to loosen his leather boots, kicked those off, then unfastened his wool trousers. In the next instant he was naked.
“Oh.” Merewyn could only stare at his cock. She had never seen a naked male before, had but the dimmest idea of what to expect and it was not this. Most definitely not this.
Mathios watched her intently as he fisted his erection and drew his hand back and forth. A bead of clear moisture formed on the smooth pink head. Without thinking Merewyn reached out to swipe it away with her finger. Mathios laughed. “Soon, my Celt, you will learn to clean me with your tongue.”
“Oh,” she repeated, utterly at a loss for more words to better express her wonder.
Perhaps he knew what she wanted to say. He grinned and knelt before her. As before, he parted her legs and shifted so his hips were between hers. He positioned the crown of his huge cock at her entrance and Merewyn stifled an urge to giggle. This was just ridiculous. He would not fit within her. It was impossible and he would see that soon enough. She was genuinely disappointed, had hoped… imagined… But no, the reality was plain enough.
Mathios shifted again, pressing forward this time. Seemingly he had not perceived the obvious difficulty. She opened her mouth to explain, then let out a startled yelp when a sudden, white-hot bolt of pain snaked through her nether regions. She lay utterly still, not daring to move in case it happened again.
Mathios, too, was motionless. She peered up at him, her gaze swimming with tears. His expression was one of puzzled disbelief. His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched as though he fought some inner battle.
The discomfort subsided. Merewyn started to relax. She dared a slight shift of her right leg, found it to be bearable so experimented with the left. That went well also. Seemingly she had survived whatever disaster had beset them.
“I… I believe I am all right. You may stop now.”
“Stop?”
“Yes. It is safe to do so. I am uninjured.”
“I do not wish to stop. There are a number of things I would like to do at this moment, but to stop fucking you is not one of them.”
“Oh.” They were back to that, it appeared.
“Do you want me to stop?” His expression was pained.
“No. But I thought… I mean, it hurts and… You are too large, clearly.”
“No, I am not. The pain has passed. It is over now.”
“But I saw you. You are much too…big.”
He shifted within her, just a little but sufficient to cause her inner channel to clench around his wide cock. “Am I hurting you now? Still?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Merewyn, it is painfully obvious that you do not know what the fuck you are talking about.”
“But—”
“I am not too big, and I will not hurt you again.”
“Do you promise?”
“Yes,” he ground out. “I fucking promise.”
Despite the stirrings of pleasure brought about by his cock lodged deep within her, Merewyn shrank at his harsh tone, his bitter words. “You are angry with me. I do not understand…”
He groaned and lowered his forehead to rest against hers, his weight supported on his arms. “I am sorry. I should not have sworn at you. I was surprised, that is all. I had not expected you to be a virgin.”
Merewyn was equally astonished. Was it not obvious that she would be a virgin, since she had no husband? “Why would you think otherwise?”
“You have a baby. Or I thought you did. Evidently you do not.”
“A baby? You mean Connell?”
“Of course I mean Connell.”
“He is my brother.”
Mathios closed his eyes and muttered a few words in his own tongue. Merewyn suspected it was something obscene but did not choose to seek further clarification as she had a more pressing concern occupying her mind.
The initial sensation of discomfort in her cunny had wholly transformed to one of pleasurable fullness. She wished Mathios would do something, anything, to assuage her growing urge to squeeze and clench and wrap her legs around his waist and…
He withdrew his cock, waited a moment, poised at her entrance, then he plunged back inside her, deep and hard. It felt wonderful. Merewyn reached for his shoulders, lifted her legs to hook her ankles together in the small of his back and she hung on.
Mathios treated her to several short, sharp thrusts, then he reverted to the long, deep strokes he had started with. Merewyn loved all of it. He adjusted his angle a little, and now each inward stroke seemed to heighten her pleasure, create a growing swell of intensity, ready to engulf her.
Surely she could not achieve such a feat again. She was spent, utterly exhausted. Except, it would seem she was not. Mathios seemed to know what to do, exactly how to drive his huge cock into her body to elicit the desired response. In moments her cunny was again convulsing and her head spinning, her senses whirling as she soared toward another powerful release. Her body convulsed at the same moment his cock lurched within her and he swore again in his native tongue. The wet heat of his semen filled her channel moments before he rolled to his side, bringing her with him.
They lay like that for several minutes, his cock still buried within her. Mathios was the first to move, withdrawing his now softening erection and rolling onto his back. Merewyn shuffled away from him, suddenly self-conscious and afraid of his anger though she was at a loss to comprehend where he had gained his misconceptions from. Surely she had never said anything to give him to understand Connell was her son. Why would she do that?
“Oh, no, you don’t,” he growled. “Get back over here. Now.”
She shuffled back and found herself pulled up hard against his side, his arm around her.
“That’s better. And since we have the more urgent matter out of the way, at least for now, I’d be delighted to listen to your explanation.”
“Explanation?”
“Yes. How did you end up here, alone, just you and your baby brother? What happened to the rest of your family, Merewyn?”
She drew in a long, deep breath and held it. She could not readily account for her reluctance to tell this Viking of the atrocities committed by others of his race. Certainly, she no longer harboured the fear that he and his men would consider acting in similar fashion. Even were it not for their need of her cottage for the duration of their stay here, these Norsemen did not exhibit the same blood-lust she and her family had encountered before. They had offered her and Connell no violence, apart from the switching and that did seem different somehow though she could not entirely reconcile the puzzle. On the contrary, they had shown kindness, generosity even, which rendered her own actions even more incomprehensible.
Neither was she seeking sympathy since she knew Vikings to be without compassion. Although, again, Mathios and his warriors did not fit that mould. They could have abandoned her and Connell in the forest, left them to die while the Vikings moved into their dwelling. But they did not. They brought them home and cared for them, even though they had nothing to gain from doing so.
“Merewyn,” prompted Mathios. “I asked you a question.”
“They… they died. Or left.” That much was the truth.
“Those graves in the meadow in front of your dwelling? They are members of your family?”
She nodded. “My parents.”
“When did they die? The graves appear to be fairly recent.”
“My father died a little over two years ago. My mother died just last autumn, when Connell was four months old. Since then it has just been the two of us. Until you came.”
Mathios was silent for several minutes as though considering her reply. At last he spoke. “The baby, he does not resemble you. He has blue eyes and fair hair.”
“He… he is my half-brother. We have the same mother.”
“So, your mother remarried following your father’s death?”
Merewyn hesitated, but did not dare to lie to him. “She did not remarry. She was… raped.”
Mathios swore under his breath but did not appear unduly surprised at the shocking revelation. “Go on.”
“I… that is it. She became pregnant, but never fully recovered from the birth.”
“Tell me about the rape. How did that come about? Who attacked her?”
“Please, must we speak of this? It is painful, and—”
He shifted so he leaned over her then swept the tangled hair from her face with his hand. His tone was gentle, but implacable. “I insist. Tell me what happened. All of it. We will not leave this barn until I am satisfied I have the full story. And if I have to spank you again to encourage your cooperation, I shall do so. I believe that would be effective, though I might also be put to the trouble of fucking you afterwards.” He grinned. “Ah, well, I daresay I shall prevail…”
She frowned, perplexed. She had never encountered a man like this, one who could threaten, cajole, and promise her ecstasy all in the same breath.
“You would not…”
“Do you care to lie across my lap, Merewyn, and we shall see?”
“No,” she whispered. “I do not want you to spank me again. At least…”
“At least, not just yet?”
At her weak nod he continued. “Then I suggest you start to answer my questions.”
She had no choice. Merewyn drew a long, fortifying breath, and she started. “It was Vikings. They… they were here, two years ago. They attacked from the sea. It was so quick, so brutal.” She paused for a moment, recalling the shouts, the cries, the clash of metal and the pounding of booted feet as the Norsemen stormed their farm. “They slew my father, and they raped my mother. I hid in the forest until they left or they would have…”
His arm tightened around her shoulders. “Go on. I am listening.”
“I hid for two days. When I returned, the farm was in ruins. My father was dead, and my mother barely alive though I nursed her and she survived. My two older brothers were gone. I later learnt from my mother that the Vikings took them as slaves…”
Encouraged by Mathios’ gentle probing, Merewyn was able to recount the struggle she and Ronat had put up in order to survive that first winter, the hardship they endured. She described Ronat’s pregnancy, Connell’s birth, and her mother’s death. By the time she concluded her tale she was weeping. “I have tried, for my mother’s sake I have done my best. But it is difficult. I cannot leave Connell at home while I tend the fields so I must carry him with me. I love him, of course, but…”
“But what, Merewyn?”
“It is lonely. I long for others to talk to, someone to share the work perhaps, but there are no neighbours close and I fear they might attempt to take the farm if they think I cannot manage. You yourself said that a woman alone is vulnerable…”
“Yes, and this is a hard enough life as it is. You have done well.”
She shook her head. “No, I have not. We did some repairs and rebuilding, my mother and I, but I have achieved nothing since she died. It is too hard…”
“You have survived. No one could have done more.” He fell silent, then, “I understand now why you feared and hated us. You must have been terrified when we arrived and took over your home.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “I was. I was sure that all Vikings were the same, and that at any moment you would… would…”
“And now? Now that you know us? Do you still believe we are a threat to you? To your brother?”
“No, not any longer. I think I knew from the beginning that Connell was in no danger from you. All your men are kind to him and he enjoys being with you. It has only been a couple of weeks, but he is thriving in a way he did not before. He laughs, he plays, he…”
“He is a fine boy.”
“Yes. He is.”
“Had I known of this I would have better understood your actions. You must hate us, resent us, blame us for the hardships you have faced, the destruction of your family. You have every right to do so.”
“I did, at first. I still do blame the vile men who were here two years ago, but I realise you are different.”
“Not so different. We, too, have raided villages up and down this coast, burned homes and taken slaves. I do not condone rape, though, nor would we murder without cause. But we have killed.”
“You have been kind to me.”
“Yes. We made an exception for you.”