Chapter 8 Skarth the Godless #4
“We must keep it this way. He already foresaw this happening,” I explain. “Therefore, he knows how this ends. Sune is safe. Do not worry. Loki will make sure of it. He knows we are coming for him.”
“Why did he not tell me if he knew?”
She soon understands why.
“Because he did not want to worry you. He is strong and smart. Both our sons are. We will find them. The gods will ensure it. It is fated in the stars.”
Emeline bursts into tears.
I want to console her, but I can’t.
For Loki not to tell her what he saw means there is a lesson to be learned. I don’t yet know what that is, but we will soon find out.
“What a mess we find ourselves in.”
And she’s right.
“Did you accept?”
She sniffs back her tears, confused. “Accept what?”
“Prince Ludwig’s proposal of marriage.”
Her cheeks turn a blistering red. “You offend me, heathen. I am not some harlot who needs a man to validate my existence. I have ruled without a man by my side as I intend for it to be this way until my end of days.”
“But you were able to be fooled by a man long enough to let your guard down? Perhaps you are no longer fit to rule.”
Yes, I said it, and yes, I know the repercussions for those claims. But I am hurt. And I am angry that she found it so easy to find solace in another man when I cannot stand to touch another woman without wanting to cut off my own hands.
Emeline blinks once.
Twice.
Gathering her thoughts, I assume.
“Mind your tongue, Viking, for although you are the father of my children, it does not mean I will have any qualms slicing it out for speaking to me in such a way.”
“Ooh, I am terrified, milady,” I mock, angering her further. “But have you forgotten who taught you how to fight?”
I block her punch, reading her moves instantly. She attempts to kick me in the knee, but again, she doesn’t get a chance, as it’s a technique I’ve mastered and taught her.
She screams in frustration and advances, primed to rip out my eyes and yank at my hair. I hold her out at arm’s length, tsking her.
“Are we not a little old for tantrums, princess?”
She is fighting in a blind rage, forgetting every lesson I schooled her in.
“How dare you judge me! You are the one who left me. You knew where I was. I did not know. Knowing your philandering history, however, I assume your bed was never cold, you coquetting bastard!”
She continues to writhe against me, but I have a firm hold and don’t intend to let her go ever again.
“This shade of jealousy suits you.”
“I am not jealous! Get over yourself, you stinking knave!”
A laugh erupts from me, which infuriates her further.
“Perchance I shall accept Prince Ludwig’s proposal then? He can fulfill my bedroom needs because you are no longer privy to such privileges. Honestly, I have forgotten your touch as it was that mediocre compared to—”
Her words never materialize because I wrap my hand around her throat and squeeze hard.
“Continue, please…I dare you.”
Emeline’s eyes are locked on mine, and I recognize that look.
Oh, mercy to the gods because we are about to break every holy rule known to humankind.
“He tasted—”
I squeeze harder as I force her head back at a painful angle, daring her to continue.
“Of the sweetest—” She wheezes, unable to breathe, but still, she won’t surrender.
I remove my hand from her throat, only to grip her cheeks between my fingers, pursing her lips.
Leveling her with brutality, I smirk. “You were saying?”
She brings up her knee, connecting with my cock, which is an amateur move on my behalf. I loosen my hold, and she uses that opportunity to break free. She runs as if her life depends on it, and I suppose, in some ways, it does.
She doesn’t get far before I launch for her, seizing her by the waist, restraining her back to my front. She fights like a wild beast, but she isn’t going anywhere.
“Unhand me, you vile brute!”
“Perhaps you need reminding of how much you liked my hands on you, princess.”
“A distant memory. One I cannot remember because it was not eventful enough to bother with such nostalgia.”
“Let me remind you, then.”
I don’t wait for her to grant me permission because I take what is mine, and Emeline is mine, regardless of her lies. She does this to anger me. And by the gods, it has worked.
I lift the hem of her dress with one hand as the other is wrapped around her waist, holding her firmly against me. She cannot escape. I will do to her what I please. Without prep, I sink two fingers into her cunt and am pleased to feel her welcome me with her wet heat.
“Your body betrays you.”
“Please cease from speaking. It is hard to picture someone other than you,” she says, holding back a moan.
An animalistic need tackles me to imprint myself all over her.
I commence fucking her with two fingers whilst thumbing over her throbbing hood.
“It seems you are quite nostalgic after all.”
She ignores my quip and ceases fighting, allowing me total control. She spreads her legs wider, granting me deeper access, and only when she is writhing in need do I withdraw my fingers and rub them along the seam of her mouth.
“Your honey and my cock were always the perfect pair. Now open that wicked mouth and let me hear you gag, Hugrekki.”
I spin her around and coax her to her knees as I free myself from the confines of my pants and order her to suck my cock. She comes willingly, opening her mouth and taking me in deep. But this isn’t about love. Not this time.
The line between pleasure and pain has always blurred for Emeline and me, and now, because of our animosity toward each other, I fear our boundaries are about to be tested.
I thread my fingers through her hair and use the strands as reins as I hit the back of her throat with my dick. I pull out, ensuring she feels every hard inch of my cock as I do, before thrusting back into her mouth.
Her gagging is music to my ears, and when she tries to pull back, I keep her head down, forcing her to relax her throat to take me all in. She arches her neck so I slip in deeper, adjusting to my size.
I don’t give her a reprieve, however, as I commence fucking her throat, my hand still at the back of her head, coercing her to take everything I give. I’m far from gentle. I fuck her mouth with anger and desire, and she takes everything I give because she knows I am this incensed because of her.
She moans around my shaft, using her hand to cover what her mouth cannot. My body responds just how it always has as I continue sinking deep down her throat. I want to shower her with my seed.
I grip her jaw, forcing her away.
She gasps for air as she peers up at me, saliva coating her chin.
“Open up,” I order, and when she promptly does, I spit into her mouth. “Swallow.”
She moans, feverish by our depravity as always.
“Good girl,” I commend, softly tapping her cheek before slipping back into her hot, wet mouth.
She sucks me deep, her cheeks hollowing. I run my thumb along her bottom lip, loving the feel of my cock in her mouth. She works her tongue, mouth, and hand in unison in a way that has a groaning in wanton desire.
“Let me see that sweet cunt, princess.”
She lifts her dress and begins playing with herself as she pleasures me. Her womanhood is beyond delicious. The moon highlights the wetness that coats her soft flesh. She sinks in two fingers, whimpering as I hit the back of her throat.
“Faster.”
She bends to my demands with the speed of her mouth and fingers. Although many moons have passed, I know Emeline’s body, and she is moments away from exploding. Gripping the back of her neck, I fuck her mouth, not giving her a moment to catch her breath.
The speed of her fingers matches the rhythm of her mouth, and before long, our bodies move in frenzied sync, chasing a release that will be merciless to us both.
The sight of my woman on her knees, pleasuring me, is too much.
“Ek elska tik á aeva. Tú hefir aldrei farie frá mínu hjarta. Ek mun ekki yfirgefa tik aftur.”
Her moans vibrate around my cock as I know she loves it when I speak Norse to her.
I’m far from gentle as I chase my release. No one makes me feel this way. Every emotion there is can only be roused by Emeline.
“Tú ert minn. Alltaf ok aever. Tú tilheyrir mér.”
Her body shudders, pulsating all through my cock. I hit the back of her throat, and she explodes. Her cries are impassioned. I don’t stand a chance. I spill my seed down her throat, pumping my hips to ensure she swallows everything because it’s hers.
I am hers.
That is what I said to her in Norse.
Before the final spasm rocks my body, I pick her up and slam my mouth to hers, tasting our heady passion on her lips. She sighs into my mouth, her body lax from the orgasm she just had.
But reality soon hits, and we realize we’ve done more damage to the other than we ever intended.
By attempting to save the other…we have done the complete opposite and driven a wedge so deep that I’m not sure if love will be enough.
She wraps her arms around me, fitting how she always did. But her words in response to mine reveal we are no longer the people we once were.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”