Page 95 of The Viking’s Captive

“Now lift, and rub. And lift, and rub. Learn their size and texture. Would you like it if I were doing that for you?”

“Most certainly. Would you like to try?”

“Not yet.”

“Touch your nipples. Play with them. Pull at them. Flick them up and down and side to side.”

She did as he asked and almost swooned at the intensity of pleasure she felt there and between her thighs, where she suspected a wetness had begun to form. “I would definitely like you to be doing this, not me. I feel wanton … perverse … doing it myself. Well, actually, I feel wanton when you do it, too, but not perverse.”

He laughed. “Now lower … move your hands lower … little by little. Lay them over your stomach. Skim over your woman hair. Now your thighs. Part them.”

“I … I can’t.”

“Yea, you can. Do it for me. Do it for yourself.”

She spread her legs slightly and continued to skim her fingers over the hair there. Who knew there could be such pleasure in touching one’s self? Adam had been correct from the start. She did not know her own body.

“Wider,” he coaxed. “Come now, Tyra, you can do better than that. Wider. Now bend your knees and put your feet flat on the mattress.”

She practically yelped at that suggestion. There was no way in the world that she would be able to expose herself in that manner. It would be too mortifying. It would be a surrender. It would be … incredible. So, of course, she did it.

She gritted her teeth, arched her neck, and groaned aloud as ripple after ripple of flutters hit her right in that most vulnerable center of her. When she caught her breath, she asked, “Is the talk-pleasuring over yet?”

“Oh, Tyra, we have scarce begun. Examine yourself there now, dearling. Discover which folds are most sensitive. Find the bud that is the essence of all your sex. There.”

She whimpered. “I am wet.”

“I know, and you have no idea how much that pleases me.”

Her lower body jerked when she hit upon the tiny bud.

“Don’t stop. Circle it. Make it grow. Does it ache?”

She nodded. Every part of her body had tensed up. Her heart was pumping madly. She felt as if she were rising and rising and rising toward … something.

Opening her eyes, which seemed heavy and lethargic, she said, “I cannot do it anymore. I cannot. Something is wrong with me.”

“Shhh. Trust me.” He crawled up onto the bed, pulled the pillow from behind her head and placed it under her hips. Then he proceeded to do the most sinful, wanton, scandalous, unimaginable things to her woman folds … with his tongue.

She screeched.

She tried to push him away.

She tried to pull him closer.

Her hips started to jerk in a rhythmic undulation.

His mouth found that bud of sensation and suckled softly.

She screamed. She actually screamed as wave after wave of pleasure hit her there. It would not stop. He would not stop. She arched her hips up high. Her inner muscles clenched and unclenched, and she knew exactly what they wanted. Him. Inside her. Now.

“Please, please, please, please, please, please, please …” Her litany was a plea for satisfaction only he could give her.

She probably took the lead in dancing, too …

Adam knew what Tyra yearned for, but if he entered her now, the bedsport would be over afore it began.

But he should have known that his warrior princess was like no other woman. If his mind had been more clear, he might have been prepared.