Page 73 of Astrid at Sea

“Frode?”

“No one has ever asked me that before,” he murmured.

“Someone has now.”

“I don’t have a grand origin story like some other people,” he started with a chuckle, but I could tell it was to mask his nerves. It appeared that he hadn’t lied when he said no one had ever asked him this. “My father was a pirate. I was born on the water. This life is all I’ve ever known.”

“That’s it?”

He nodded. “That’s it.”

“Unless your mother was also a pirate, there has to be more to the story.”

“Of course, my mother wasn’t a pirate,” he scoffed. “She was a lowly wench. A whore that my father accidentally got pregnant.”

“What happened to her?” I asked, sensing there was more to the story.

He looked away from me. “She was made to walk moments after she gave birth to me.”

Frode was right. He didn’t have a grand origin story. Instead, it was pretty sad, but I refused to feel sorry for a pirate. Not when he and his men held my husband and crewmates captive, slaving away for them until we were eventually killed–yes, it was pessimistic, but I didn’t believe the word of a pirate. Whether Viktor and the crew found the gold or not, I was certain that Frode and the other pirates planned to kill us all. And then there was the simple fact that he was moments away from violating me in the worst possible way.

“You need to untie me, Frode,” I prompted him after a few moments of silence.

He snapped out of the sad daze he was lost in and quirked an eyebrow. “Why would I do that?”

“How are we supposed to have sex with me tied up like this?” The words made me want to gag, but I reigned in the disgust.

“I don’t need to untie you for us to have fun. I can roll you onto your stomach.” The wicked glint in his eyes made me shudder. When Viktor looked at me like that, I ate it up and was putty in his hands, but Frode made me want to scrub my skin raw until I could no longer feel his nasty gaze on me.

I forced a pout, feigning flirty interest. “But that’s no fun.”

“No?”

“No.” I shook my head and smirked. “I’m normally really into sex, but I can’t do that while tied up.”

“Into it?” He hummed lowly, licking his lips. “How so?”

“Hair pulling, back scratching, legs around the hips, over the shoulders…just normal stuff like that. Being tied up doesn’t do it for me.” I shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

I smirked when he gulped, and from the corner of my eyes, I noticed him drop his hand to his cock, fisting it. I forced myself to keep my eyes locked on his, not wanting to see more than I should as I held my hands out.

In my sweetest voice, I asked, “Untie me?”

To my relief, Frode gulped and nodded. He gave his cock another pump before he reached under a pile of dirty clothes near the top corner of the bed. He fumbled around for a bit before he pulled out a sharp dagger, the tip gleaming in the daylight.

“I’m going to do more than just cut the ties if you try anything funny, Astrid of Jorvik,’ he warned in a low, threatening voice.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I quickly said, furiously shaking my head, willing for him to believe me. If he didn’t, I didn’t know what I would do.

I held my breath as Frode’s gaze lingered on me briefly before he dropped to his knees. He cut the ties around my wrists before instructing me to shift over so he could do the same to the ties around my ankles.

Once he was done, he carelessly threw the dagger to the side and circled his fingers around my upper arm. His lips were puckered, and he pulled me close, his face slowly descending on mine.

Frode wanted a kiss, so that’s exactly what I would give him.

Except, instead of kissing my mouth, he kissed the butt of one of his empty bottles.

Not only was Frode wicked for intending to force a woman into bed with him, but he was also very messy. He probably never cleaned his room. The wall I had been previously pressed up against was covered with empty bottles, and all I had to do was reach behind me to grab one.

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