Page 82 of A Tale of Two Vikings

Her words reached in and grabbed his heart. For a second, he could not breathe.

“Of course, if I’ve caught your seed, I will be even more pleased.”

But I won’t be pleased.

Will I?

Why am I even asking?

“There is one thing I was wondering,” she said, twirling one of his chest curls.

“And that would be?” he said, twirling one of her nipples.

“Just how many of those seed catch-cloths do you have?”

He laughed in surprise. “Why?”

“Because it’s going to be a long night.”

“I hope so, sweetling. I hope so.”

I am woman…hear me purr…

“Well, well, well,” Helga murmured to herself four hours and three bouts of lovemaking later.

She gazed down at Vagn, who snored softly in the bed beside her. His arms were thrown over his head in abandon, revealing oddly endearing patches of blond hair in his armpits. His legs were splayed. A small smile lay on his full lips. There was a tooth print on his shoulder, a suck mark on his lower belly and scratches on his back. The man had been knocked on his sweet arse, wrung inside out and flattened.

And Helga had done it. To say that she was supremely satisfied with her hidden talents in the bedsport would be a vast understatement.

Oh, she’d come to Vagn in hopes of catching his male seed, but she would be less than honest if she did not admit how much she’d enjoyed the exercise…or how much she looked forward to more of it. But for now, she had to creep back to her own bedchamber before anyone discovered her whereabouts. She feared falling asleep at Vagn’s side—though the prospect held appeal—and being discovered in the morn by a housecarl. Her father would be up here with a sword and a priest in an instant. There would be no sword-point wedding for her. In fact, no wedding at all.

With one last grin of satisfaction, Helga began to slip from the bed. She was almost off when a hand gripped her ankle and pulled her back.

“Where do you think you’re going, sweetling?”

He tugged hard and she landed half on and half off the rogue. Not only was he awake but a key part of his body was, too. A part she was growing rather fond of.

“I must get back to my bedchamber afore dawn,” she explained.

“’Tis a long time till dawn, and I have much to show you afore then.”

He was kneading her buttocks and blowing in her ear the whole time he spoke softly to her, so it was no wonder his words did not immediately register in her brain. “Show me?” she finally squeaked out. “Show me what?”

“The far-famed Viking S-spot, of course.”

“Oh? And where might that be?”

“Inside.”

Sweet Valkyries! I do not dare ask what he means by that. Instead, she asked something equally lackwitted, “And how would I find it?”

“You wouldn’t. I would.” By now, Vagn had spread her nether cheeks from behind and was doing wicked things with his long fingers.

“How?” she was fool enough to ask. “With your…oh, oh…fingers?”

“Nay. With my tongue.”

And he did.