Page 44 of Hungry Like a Wolf
His cock grew hard and he reached for it, the water splashing slightly. An image of Carmel naked and waiting for his kisses came to mind. She was small and light with curves in the places he liked to see a woman’s curves. And she was untouched. A virgin.
His belly tensed and his erection thickened in his fist. He rubbed it root to tip and his balls tightened.
What would it take to be the first man to enter her?
Sure, he could do it by force. He was twice the size of her and she was effectively his captive.
But he shuddered just at the thought of the pain and disappointment in her eyes. He’d never violate her like that.
No. He wanted her wet and willing and open for him.Beggingfor him.
His cock twitched and he stroked it some more, imagining her reaching for him and bringing him to full hardness. Her sweet, small hands exploring, teasing and pleasuring. The look on her face as he taught her the wonders of building to an orgasm and then experiencing the climax itself.
Oh, and he’d have her cumming that first time. He was good at sex—he’d been told that often enough. True, some areas of his life he’d been accused of being selfish, but not when it came to sweaty, naked time. Then he wanted his woman, or women, to be crying his name as they pulsed around his cock or dragged on his hair as his tongue worked.
He moaned softly and the urge to find pleasure right there in the water almost took him over. But he resisted, and instead, he dunked under, scrubbing at his hair to get rid of the layers of salt the sea breeze had basted there.
After a while, the water cooled and he stepped out, dried, and pulled on fresh pants. He didn’t bother with his belt or a tunic. He needed to sleep. The rock and roll of the longboat had meant for broken rest in between taking his turn at rowing.
He rubbed a piece of linen over his hair to dry it then sat beside a bowl of water and took his sharp, iron razor in his hand. After lathering, he began to shave his beard away.
As the clumps of hair came off, the beads with it, he felt lighter, renewed. As though he were leaving the past behind.
When it was all off and his skin smooth, he rinsed and patted his face dry.
He supped ale and ate salted fish then headed for his bed.
Carmel was on it. She was lying on her side, curled into a ball and apparently fast asleep.
His cock stirred again. If ever there were an invitation to take what he wanted, there it was.
“Fuck it,” he muttered, reaching for a wolf fur.
He covered her, then gently lay on the bed at her side. His arms ached to hold her, nestle her against his body and inhale the scent of her hair, but he stopped himself. Instead, he fastened his hands behind his head, stared at the beamed ceiling, and waited for sleep.
It came quickly and soon, dreams of Tillicoulty and his brothers and Astrid filled his mind. Thormod was there too, but as a baby, not a toddling child. Thor loomed over them, hammer in hand, and delfins dived through the air at his side.
And then the familiar scent of chestnut soap filled his nose; it was laced with lavender and penetrated his dreams.
He stirred and was aware of a weight over him. His arms were full and his legs tangled in fur and legs.
He opened his eyes.
Carmel was sprawled out on him, almost as though he were a pillow. Her head was nestled in the crook of his shoulder. She had one hand on his chest and her legs were entwined with his. Her breath warmed his flesh.
He froze, not wanting to break the spell. Had he reached for her or had she navigated his way?
From what he could figure out, he’d barely moved and was still on his back on the side of the bed he’d started on.
And then she stirred, a little squeak and a sigh as she arched her back and her fingers curled in the hair at the center of his chest. Tugging it just enough to invoke a pleasurable sting.
He hardly dared breathe and kept a tight hold of her in the circle of his arm.
“What the…?” She lifted her head and stared at him, blinking a few times, then her eyes widened.
“I… I didn’t do this… You came to me,” he said, wondering if she was about to fall into a hysteria.
“I…” She looked at her hand filled with his dark curls of chest hair and then back at his face. “I’m sorry.” Her fingers relaxed.
