Chapter Twelve
Never in his life had he wanted a woman this badly. Caragh’s hands around him had awakened an arousal he couldn’t deny, instead of lending comfort. He wanted to lay her back and taste her bare skin, learning what pleased her body.
But then, she was a virgin. Asking her to be intimate in this way would likely embarrass her instead of bringing her pleasure.
“Or you could return to your tent.” He offered her the escape, uncertain of whether she would seize it.
When he heard no movement from her, the air within the tent seemed to grow warmer. He went rigid at the thought of what was about to happen between them.
At first, he’d believed she would run away. Instead, she’d met his challenge, leaving him with no choice but to continue.
“I want all the time that remains between us,” she murmured. “Even if it’s stolen.”
So did he. He knew that even having her in his tent was dishonorable and unfair.
But the future was unknown, and he was starting to understand that his marriage had been broken for a long time.
He should have ended it earlier, giving Elena her chance at another marriage, her own happiness.
It was pride and stubbornness that had made him hold on—and the price of that tenacity had been loneliness.
Even these fleeting moments with Caragh had been an awakening to a very different future. One where a woman looked at him with love instead of disappointment.
And now, his decision was clear. If Elena had survived, he would end the marriage and set her free. He would claim Caragh as his own and surrender to the forbidden desires that held him captive.
And tonight, he would show her what it could be like between them.
He moved so close he could feel her breath against his cheek. “If you stay, you obey me without question.”
She took his hand and laid it beneath her gown upon her heart. Beneath his fingers, he could feel the harsh beating of her fears and inhibitions. But he lifted his hand away.
“Remove all of your clothing,” he ordered. “Lie down upon it.”
In the darkness of the tent, he could not see her. But he imagined the delicate skin, the soft curves of her breasts. He envisioned her nipples might be a pale pink. Her slender waist would flare to hips he wanted to hold while he drove himself within her.
“I’m ready,” she whispered.
He heard the nerves in her voice, the uncertainty. But he would have traded every last piece of silver for this night. He would give rein to his desires, the forbidden dreams of her.
And, if the gods were willing, he would free himself from Elena and one day make love to Caragh the way he wanted to.
He stripped away his own clothing, lying across from her. “Do you feel the cool air upon your skin?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to tell you where I would touch you now, if I could. You’re going to touch yourself where I tell you to.”
Caragh said nothing, but her breathing remained unsteady.
“Place your hands upon your breasts,” he said. “Stroke your nipples until they harden.” He moved beside her, gritting his teeth against his taut erection. It was torment, telling her all the places where he wanted to touch her.
His conscience warned him that this was still a betrayal to his wife, even if he never laid a hand upon Caragh.
It wasn’t right to do this. And although he didn’t want to dishonor his marriage by lying with another woman, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard the words: I love you.
For the first time in years, it was as if he’d come alive again.
His marriage barely existed anymore since Elena no longer wanted him—and Caragh did.
“Tell me how you feel, Caragh.”
“It aches when I touch my breasts,” she confessed. “I feel it all the way between my legs.”
“Don’t stop,” he ordered. “Use your fingers to roll the tips and imagine that I am the one touching you now.”
He heard her emit a shuddering gasp, her body arching against the pile of clothing.
“Lick your fingers and then touch your nipples,” he commanded. “Pretend it’s my mouth on top of them, suckling each one. Right now, I’m imagining my tongue against those sweet tips.”
A moan broke forth from her, and he couldn’t stop himself from curling his fist around his erection, squeezing the shaft and wishing that he could be inside her.
“Now move one hand downwards,” he ordered. “Over your ribs and your belly. Down between your legs.”
“I—I’m wet,” she said, as if not understanding what was happening to her.
“It’s your body preparing itself for lovemaking,” he said. “Take one finger and slide it inside.”
She let out a low hiss, and he added, “Keep touching one of your breasts while you move your finger in and out. Slowly”
“Styr,” she pleaded. “I can’t do this. I need you.”
“No.” His voice came out in a low growl. “You will not argue with me. Tonight, you are my prisoner. And you won’t leave this tent until I hear you cry out in release.”
His words were nearly as erotic as the touch of her own hands. Caragh had never imagined her body could be awakened like this. And though it was wicked, she wanted to know what it was to take a lover. Styr was guiding her, teaching her mysteries she’d never known.
She obeyed because she trusted him implicitly.
“Two fingers now,” he ordered. “Stretch yourself and thrust those fingers in and out while you caress the other breast.”
She did, and the added pressure of touching her breast echoed the rhythm below. It should have shamed her to be openly touching herself, but she imagined that it was his hands upon her body. That it was his thick manhood invading her flesh, sinking against the wetness and withdrawing.
She was trembling now, her breathing quickened into short gasps. Something was happening to her, and she didn’t know what it was.
“Remove your fingers,” he ordered.
“I don’t want to,” she murmured, reveling in the sensation that was so close, the trembling feelings rising up within. “It feels so good.”
“Obey me.” He reached for her wrist and removed it, guiding it until the heel of her hand rested upon her mons.
With his fingers, he guided hers to a small fold of flesh above her entrance.
“Circle your finger over this,” he said.
“Keep stroking yourself until you start to tremble. And imagine that it’s my tongue upon you. ”
The words shattered her inhibitions, and she found herself experimenting with the pressure, learning how to touch and how to bring forth the deep arousal she’d conjured earlier. “Circle it gently,” he ordered, “and begin lifting your hips.”
The pleasure grew more intense, and she couldn’t stop the moan that broke forth when her flesh grew unbearably sensitive, rising against her own touch.
“Do men do that?” she whispered, arching when her body responded with more warmth. “Use their tongues upon a woman’s—”
“Sometimes,” he said.
“And do women taste a man’s flesh?” she inquired.
Styr was so quiet, she didn’t know if she’d offended him. “My wife never did,” he admitted at last.
“She never touched you?” The very idea seemed impossible. Even now, she wanted to explore his body with her hands, kissing him and finding out what brought him pleasure.
“I don’t want to talk about Elena,” he countered.
Caragh continued caressing herself and then she dared to whisper, “If I could touch you right now, I would curl my hand around your shaft. I would stroke you in the same way I moved my fingers inside me earlier. And I would imagine it was your body thrusting inside mine.”
He uttered words in the Norse language that she didn’t understand, but it sounded like a low curse before he groaned. “Touch yourself faster, Caragh.”
She obeyed, and it drew out the aching pleasure until she was starting to shake. The pressure was building inside, and she couldn’t stop her hitched breath or the keening cries as she came closer and closer to a peak of physical pleasure.
“Styr,” she begged, not knowing what it was she needed.
“Don’t stop,” he commanded. “Keep going.”
The needs were so strong, she deepened the pressure, crying out as her body tightened with a wave of heat so intense, she was hovering on the brink of collapse.
“I—I can’t.”
Styr let out a low curse, and without warning, his warm mouth closed over one nipple, and she lost control.
The sensation of his tongue suckling her while her fingers moved upon her wetness was too much.
She bucked her hips, gripping his head as a frenzied storm of shaking hot pleasure boiled through her body, making her so wet, she couldn’t stop herself from plunging two fingers inside.
The rhythm of release shattered her apart, and she reached for him, closing her hand over his silken erection.
He was hot and moist as her thumb brushed the tip of him.
It took only a few strokes of her hand before he let out a harsh breath and spilled his own seed.
He murmured words in his own language, words that sounded like a blend of an apology and a curse.
“Put on your gown and leave this tent. Now,” he commanded.
“Are you certain—?”
“If you don’t go right now, I’m going to break every vow I ever made.”
With shaking hands, she pulled the gown over her nude body, her breasts sensitized against the fabric. Between her legs, she still longed for him, but she’d pushed him too far. For he’d nearly done what she’d wanted.
She left his tent, tiptoeing outside into the night. The coals of the fire glowed red, while flames licked the banked pile of wood.
His revelation, that Elena hadn’t liked to touch him, had revealed a side to their marriage she didn’t understand.
But more, he’d offered her a hope she’d never dared to imagine. He would see to it that Elena was safe. But afterwards...everything might change.
He hadn’t turned her away tonight, and he’d given her a pleasure she’d never dreamed of. The only way it could have been better would be if he’d been inside her.