Forbidden Nights With A Viking. Michelle WillinghamЧитать онлайн книгу.
never be a child. But she didn’t want to believe it.
‘You might…with me,’ she whispered. She couldn’t believe she had dared to speak of such a thing. Not when they had been so careful to avoid touching.
‘Do you want to know what it would be like?’ His whisper was a half-growl, and she wasn’t sure what he meant by that.
‘Yes,’ she breathed, ‘but it would be wrong.’
‘I won’t lay a hand upon you,’ he said, his voice resonant within the darkness.
‘But I don’t—’
‘You’re going to touch yourself.’
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 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 that 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.’
He moved to her, not touching her, but so close he could feel her breath against his cheek. ‘If you stay, you obey my commands. 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. Her nipples a pale pink, her slender waist flaring 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 command it.’
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 the taut erection. It was torment, telling her all the places where he wanted to touch her.
Yet, he would not dishonour Elena by lying with another woman, much as he wanted to. his conscience warned that this act between them was nearly the same.
But his wife no longer wanted him. And Caragh did.
‘It aches,’ 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. ‘As if it’s my mouth on top of them. Suckling each one, and imagine my tongue against the 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 imagining that she was impaling herself upon him.
‘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 slide it in and out.’
‘Styr,’ she pleaded. ‘I can’t. 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. He 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 move your 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 couldn’t know what it was.
‘Remove your fingers,’ he ordered.
‘I don’t want to,’ she murmured, revelling in the sensation that was so close, the trembling feelings rising up within.
‘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 commanded hers, bringing her 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.
‘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 enquired.
He 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. And he commanded her again to touch herself, to draw out the aching pleasure until she was starting to shake. The pressure was building inside, and she couldn’t stop her hitched breath, nor the keening cries as she came closer and closer.
‘Styr,’ she begged, not knowing what it was she needed.
‘Don’t stop,’ he commanded. ‘Keep going.’
The needs were so strong, she instinctively quickened the