Page 28 of Mastered By the Viking King

“You are getting wet for me,” he said. “Can you feel?”

“Aye.”

She was, his finger moving with ease, her cunny hot and damp.

He added another, stretching her.

“Oh!”

“Do not be surprised. You know you must take much bigger than this.”

She ran her hand over his head, pushing his hair from his face. Her king was so handsome. “I understand that.”

“So, let me touch you, prepare you. Close your eyes. Feel, don’t think.”

She did as he asked and greeted the darkness.

He pumped in and out of her, to the tune of small, wet noises. Then he shifted his hand, the heel pressing her mound, right at the sweet spot she’d fondled in the past.

She groaned, squeezing her eyes tighter. The ache for more instantly increased, and she bucked her hips.

His mouth found hers and he rubbed her, riding into her, over and over, the tempo fast, the pressure firm.

Tove hardly knew what was happening. A delicious coil of need was growing, like a seed had broken through the earth and was reaching skyward. It seemed to be sending its tendrils through her sex, her ass, even to her sweet spot.

His tongue darted into her mouth, the flat of it slipping over hers.

She moved her hips in time with his thrusting hand, taking what she could. The pressure built still more, a great oak tree now, and she finally had to let it go.

With a cry, she grasped his forearm. Tendons danced beneath his skin.

He broke the kiss, driving his two fingers deeper.

But something was blocking their way. He couldn’t press further inside.

She cried out again and opened her eyes. Where he was stabbing hurt, oh, but the pressure was too much to contain.

“Take what you need,” he said, excitement searing over his eyes. “Take it.”

She held her breath, concentrating on the heel of his hand stimulating her sweet spot over and over. Finally, she let it tumble out of her.

With a wail of pleasure, delicious arrows of bliss shot over her skin. Her cunny spasmed, the pressure transforming into an erotic release.

He kept on rubbing her, but pushed higher. It was as if he hadn’t yet noticed the barrier blocking his way.

“Oh!” She gripped his forearm, his shoulder. “Njal… oh… I… can’t!”

His nose twitched, his bottom lip between his teeth, fingers tunneling still deeper.

Then, with a hot tearing, the barrier gave way. A stitch of pain claimed Tove, and she arched her back, pressing her head to the pillow.

“That’s it,” he said, slowing. “That’s it, my queen. Now you will take my cock.”

She was breathing hard, her belly tensing and releasing. She was so wet between her legs.

He withdrew his hand from inside her, holding her legs open. He parted his fingers, a line of blood draped between them.

Fear lashed over Tove. “In the name of Odin…” she panted. “I’m broken, I can’t… oh, you see, I was right, I can’t take you. Not even… your… fingers.”

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