Page 11 of Claimed By the Viking

Viggo moaned at the alluring sensation.

How long has it been?

He enjoyed the sex act but, of late, he’d refrained from seeking out such company. A foolish abstinence, for his body clearly craved the release. He brought his thumb to her slit, wanting to feel the slick warmth, and she flinched. Nevertheless, her hands fastened upon his shoulders, the nails biting there.

Ah yes! She’s eager, sure enough. Some women like to tussle, do they not? Scratching and writhing, even as they drive their hips to meet a man’s thrusts.

Smiling to himself, Viggo rubbed betwixt her folds and was rewarded with another of the woman’s half-strangled mewls. Her thighs tightened around his, and her grasp on his shoulders intensified.

There was satisfaction in it—having her panting for his touch, knowing she desired him. Her little button of flesh was prominent, and he drew it between two of his fingers, sliding back and forth. The woman liked it, that was obvious, for she was bearing down on him now. It took only the slightest change of angle, and he moved further within her lips.

The throb in his cock was near unbearable, but he wanted first to enter her this way, to slide inside and crook against the smooth walls that would soon sheath him. Let her feel this penetration first, then beg for him to replace it with what she really wanted.

With one smooth motion, he pushed the heel of his hand against the sensitive bud and drove two fingers deep.

CHAPTER 5

A flashof pain blinded her, but Signy barely had time to react before he rough-handled her again. His strength was so much beyond her own, and his movements sure, taking her by surprise in their swiftness.

She’d brought one foot to the floor. Little good that had done her. With her legs stretched wide across his groin, the position was too awkward for her to gain purchase.

His hands, so large and powerful, gripped her hips and abruptly lifted her, then brought her down upon his erectness.

The tearing pain came again, and Signy opened her mouth to shriek, but whatever sound emerged was drowned by the moans of the stranger. With his head thrown back, he appeared oblivious to her discomfort, wrapped entirely in the pleasure he was intent upon taking for himself.

“Fuck! Yes! That’s the way to clasp me, wench!”

‘Twas all Signy could do to hold upon his shoulders, keeping herself upright as the ruffian jerked her up and down upon his staff, moving her body to the rhythm of his choosing.

She wanted to shout at him to cease, but the words did not come. Rather, she panted and gasped, pressing harder upon his shoulders. Her exclamations sprung unbidden, wrenched from aplace she’d not known was within her. She made no command for him to stop.

“Hot and tight!” The brute moved his hands to her behind again, giving her cheeks a squeeze. He pulled her down upon his hardness and dragged her forward at the same time, so his manhood brushed her deep inside.

Signy wanted to cry out—whether from the harshness of what he was doing to her or from some other cause, she couldn’t tell. He was hurting her, wasn’t he? Pushing so forcefully, it surely wasn’t right… except now the first stabbing pain was done, the burning ache that replaced it wasn’t so awful.

Her mother had warned her it would hurt, but she hadn’t told her it would be like this—with the man tossing her about at his whim, making her limp in his grasp. Nor had she told her of this mating position.

Didn’t most men like to bend the woman over or to lay her down? That must be easier, surely, than having her like this?

As if in response to that thought, the man beneath her lurched forward and clamped upon her nipple, sucking and laving with his tongue. With each pull of his mouth, a jolt traveled to the place where they were joined, splintering her in two.

Her hands were no longer upon his shoulders but twined in his hair, and when he left off to move to her other breast, she was overwhelmed by an unmistakable need for him to fasten upon it.

His hands guided her, spread upon the cheeks of her behind, but she was moving, too, driving her hips so she was no longer the mere recipient of his thrusts but a willing vessel, enjoying the way his arousal filled her.

“By the gods, you’re wet! Hot and tight and… fuck me!” He growled against her bosom before gulping down her nipple again, sending a pang so deep, Signy feared she would faint.

Her position—spread over him—was both wicked and thrilling. She wanted to keep him inside her, moving in the way he was. A mighty throb was centered in the place he’d teased with his thumb, and for the life of her, she longed for him to touch it again.

She bore down, wanting to rub against him. ‘Twas so strange! What had pained her before seemed easy now. The burning sensation persisted, but it only made her want to move faster.

“Sweet fuck!” He was rigid as he gasped.

Signy wanted to keep moving, chasing the tormenting, terrible, wonderful feeling that was building between her legs. She was impaled quite thoroughly, and she wondered at it.

His eyes, which he’d closed before, flew open. “I’m going to…”

Signy almost shrieked then, for he uttered a guttural groan and pulled her hard against him. The thickness that filled her jerked and pulsed.

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