Page 60 of Her Viking Master

Jean’s eyes narrowed slightly as I raised my gaze to his face again, as if in search of mercy. I could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to figure out whether I represented an asset for his own mission. He knew I was holding back, but he also knew he couldn’t push too hard without revealing his own agenda.

More than that, I thought I could see in his expression some kind of… appreciation, maybe? As if he knew, from some outside source, that I had a great deal more intelligence and insight than I pretended.

He’s got information on my background,I suddenly realized, a chill traveling down my spine. The Pretorian Guard had gotten word to him somehow that I represented more than a simple fuck toy. As Sven had predicted, the Guard had access to my life story, as depicted in Selecta’s database.

Jean knew I had information he desperately needed. I just had to make sure I could turn that into a ticket to Pretorian Guard headquarters for me and Camille.

Suddenly Jean reached out and took hold of my shoulders before I could react. Roughly, he turned me around and pushed me up against the wall, my face pressed against the wallpaper. I let out a cry of pain and surprise as he squeezed my spanked bottom hard. His fingers probed between my legs, sliding easily into my still-slick pussy.

“I can feel how wet you are,” Jean growled in my ear. “Even after the pounding I’m sure you got from Monsieur and the Russian. Your body betrays you, little whore. Now tell me what you heard in there.”

I whimpered, torn between the pain in my abused bottom and the shameful pleasure his fingers were eliciting. “Please, sir,” I begged, my voice muffled against the wall. “I didn’t hear anything important, I swear. Please let me go.”

But even as I pleaded, I could feel my body responding to his touch. My hips rocked involuntarily, seeking more friction. I hated myself for it, but I couldn’t seem to stop. The intensity of what had happened in Beaumont’s study, combined with Jean’s dominant presence, was overwhelming my senses.

“You’re lying,” Jean hissed, pressing his body against mine. I could feel the hard length of him through his trousers. “I can tell when a little slut like you is holding back information.”

His fingers thrust deeper, curling to hit that spot inside me that made my knees weak. I bit my lip to stifle a moan, shame and arousal warring within me.

“Sir, please,” I whimpered. “I didn’t understand what they were talking about. It was all business stuff I don’t know anything about.”

Jean’s other hand tangled in my hair, yanking my head back. The pain in my scalp mingled with the pleasure building between my legs, creating a confusing whirlwind of sensation.

“You expect me to believe that?” he growled. “A smart girl like you, from a Selecta college? I think you understood more than you’re letting on.”

My heart raced at his words. Yes, he did know about my background. The realization sent a jolt of fear through me, even as it confirmed my suspicions about his true identity.

Jean’s fingers continued their relentless assault on my senses, driving me closer and closer to the edge. I could feel my resolve weakening with each passing second. Part of me wanted to give in, to tell him everything I’d heard. But I knew I couldn’t, not yet. I had to make sure Camille would be included in whatever came next.

“Sir,” I gasped, my voice trembling. “I… I might have heard something about a virus. And power grids. But I don’t know what it means. Please, I’m telling the truth.”

Jean’s fingers stilled inside me, and I had to bite back a whine of frustration. “A virus?” he pressed. “Tell me more.”

I shook my head, tears of genuine frustration and confusion welling in my eyes. “I… I don’t know anything else, sir. Please believe me.”

Jean’s grip on my hair tightened, and I could feel the tension in his body as he pressed against me. His fingers resumed their movements inside me, slower now but no less intense. I couldn’t help the small moan that escaped my lips.

“You’re holding back,” he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. “I can feel it in the way your body responds to me. You want to tell me everything, don’t you?”

Odin and Thor help me, I did. There was something about Jean’s touch, the confident way he handled my body, that reminded me of Sven. Unlike Beaumont’s clumsy pawing or Georgy’s brutal use of me, Jean’s dominance felt… right. My body responded to him instinctively, recognizing a true master.

I found myself wanting to trust him, to spill every secret I’d overheard. The urge was so strong it frightened me. I had to remind myself of my mission, of the importance of keeping Camille safe.

“Sir,” I whimpered, my voice barely above a whisper. “I… I might remember more if…”

“If what?” Jean prompted, his fingers stilling once more.

I swallowed hard, gathering my courage. “If you promised to protect my friend too. Camille. I’m so worried about her.”

For a moment, Jean said nothing. Then, slowly, he turned me around to face him. His dark eyes searched mine, and I saw a flicker of something there—understanding? Respect?

“You care about her that much?” he asked softly.

I nodded, tears spilling down my cheeks. “She’s all I have left in this place. Please, sir. I’ll tell you everything I know, but only if you swear Camille will be safe too.”

Jean’s expression softened almost imperceptibly. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, the door to Beaumont’s study swung open.

Beaumont and Georgy stepped out, their faces flushed from champagne and satisfaction. They paused at the sight of Jean pressing me against the wall, his hand still between my legs.

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