Vikings Unleashed: 9 modern Viking erotic romances Read online

  When he spoke, his breath whispered over her skin. “You’re not interested, Bryn? Are you sure about that?”

  “There are different kinds of interest.” She was ridiculously proud of herself for managing an even tone.

  He displayed that dimple in a blatantly unfair move. “I want all of your interest.”

  “Too bad.” Because her slutty little long-dormant hormones were all for whatever he wanted, but the tiny scrap of rationality she possessed had zero interest in any trouble he’d bring to her doorstep.

  “Mmm.” His gaze searched her face, looking for gods-knew-what. “Well, let’s start here and worry about the rest later.”

  “Wha—”

  His mouth cut off her question.

  A jolt of shock went through her, and it took a split-second for her brain to catch up to what was going on. That kind of delayed reaction would have gotten her killed on the battlefield. But then he shoved his tongue between her lips, and her thoughts scattered. The flavor of him flooded her taste buds, coffee and sugar and something uniquely him. She couldn’t prevent a moan as utter unstoppable want licked through her. He shifted them to the left, so she was trapped between his fiery heat and the icy metal of the fridge door. His big body settled against hers, every hard angle fitting against her softer curves. He pinned her in place, not giving her a chance to think or escape. He forced her to feel, and fear fluttered through her at the realization. One of his hands closed over her breast and twisted her nipple. Hard. A needy, greedy sound wrenched from her throat.

  He wedged his other hand between them, popping open the button on her riding breeches. The fabric had just enough stretch for him to delve in without pushing her pants down. His fingers edged under her panties and slipped into her curls. Her torso arched against him—in encouragement or protest, even she didn’t know. He stroked over her slit, toying with her slick lips. Her breathing turned to ragged gasps, her heart pounding so loudly all she could hear was the rush of blood in her ears.

  Two thick fingers pierced her in a swift thrust that had her rising on tiptoe and bunching her fists in his T-shirt. The heel of his hand ground into her clit, making her shudder.

  Oh, gods. Oh. Gods.

  No one, but no one, had ever gotten to her as fast as he had. It was madness. He kissed his way along her jaw and down to her ear, nipping at the lobe. Then he unerringly found and scraped his teeth over a hot spot just under her ear that always lit her up like a firecracker. How had he remembered that? Continuing to tease her nipple, he twisted with just enough pressure to send streaks of pleasured pain zinging through her. Sensation swamped her, left her senses reeling. Her sex clenched, orgasm building high and hot within her. Her hips moved with his hand, low groans pouring from her mouth into his. More. She needed more; her body demanded the surcease he was offering.

  He pressed down on her clit, curled his fingers inside her until he hit her G-spot, and pinched her nipple. It was more than enough to send her flying. Her entire body froze, and then her pussy pulsed in rhythmic waves around his thrusting digits. Fiery bliss exploded within her, and tingles skipped down her limbs. She threw her head back against the fridge, crying out with completion right there in the middle of her kitchen. But even as ecstasy ripped through her, she wondered what the fuck she was doing. This was insane. Her hands were still balled in his shirt, so she hooked a foot behind his ankle and shoved hard.

  With a grunted curse, he landed on his ass, sprawling across her scuffed wooden floor. For a moment, utter shock flickered across his expression. Then he leaned back on his palms and chuckled, the sound rich and rough at the same time. “Yeah, I deserved that. Totally worth it though.”

  Ah, shit. Sanity was overrated. Really, it was the laugh that did her in. That, and the dimple.

  She jumped him.

  * * *

  Odin’s blood, she was fucking gorgeous.

  She came down on top of him, her long legs straddling his hips. She was a tall woman, a warrior, built with lean, graceful lines. Her breasts were small and pert, and an active lifestyle made her ass a work of art. He’d wanted to get his hands on it from the moment he’d seen her bending over in the stable—one look and lust had hit him like a punch to the gut. Stupid, foolish, but there it was. He hadn’t meant to touch her, but he’d been unable to resist temptation. Which had always been his problem with her, hadn’t it?

  He cupped his hands around the firm globes of her backside, groaning at how good she felt, how being near her fired his blood. But she wasn’t into savoring the reunion. She jerked his T-shirt out of his pants, and he had to release her buttocks to let her get the shirt over his head. Though he couldn’t complain at having her hands on his chest, stroking his skin, tweaking his nipples. Gods, yes. His cock jerked, chafing painfully against his fly. He needed to be inside her, thrusting into her tight, silken depths. No matter how many years had passed, he’d never found anything that felt as good as being inside her. It was a truth he’d never admit aloud, not with how badly they’d betrayed each other, but he’d made his peace with the past long ago. He doubted she could say the same, considering the lack of welcome he’d gotten.

  Too bad, but dealing with the past was a problem for later.

  A braid held back her magnificent white-blond hair, and it tumbled over her shoulder to brush his chin. He remembered the feel of her locks flowing through his fingers like water. Slipping the tie off the end, he unwound the plait and let her hair fall into his face. Perfect, the slight tickle somehow erotic. The pale locks formed a curtain that contrasted with the pure black of her eyes, so dark it was difficult to tell where her iris stopped and her pupil started. There was something about those uncanny eyes that pierced a man straight to his soul.

  “Too many clothes.” She yanked his belt open and unzipped his jeans. He lifted his hips so she could pull his pants and underwear down to his ankles. His shoes were next, and he let her struggle with getting everything off him.

  Normally, he’d be more aggressive, but there was something undeniably arousing about watching Bryn strip him. His cock was an iron bar, pulsing with need only she could quench. He’d almost forgotten how good it was to have her fingers dancing across his flesh. Or maybe he’d just tried to put it out of his mind so the knowledge that he couldn’t have her wouldn’t drive him mad. She grasped his cock, stroking it from base to crown. He jerked in reaction to her touch, and sweat beaded on his forehead. Hers had never been the delicate hands of a pampered lady, but she was still all woman—soft and strong at the same time. He liked that.

  He felt his wolf fangs slide down and claws tipped his fingers, and for once he didn’t need worry about his lover seeing them. Bryn wasn’t a normal human. For good or ill, she knew exactly who and what he was. He ran the razor-edge of a talon along the neckline of her shirt. “I want you naked too.”

  “Oh, really?” She cocked her head, the movement bird-like, reminding him of her raven side.

  He realized that he’d never seen her in her bird form. That would probably change soon. Because, whether she liked it or not, their fates were tied together for the foreseeable future. The prospect seemed a lot less painful with her perched over him, her cheeks flush, her eyes glazed with lust.

  She swirled a fingertip around the head of his dick. “I never would have guessed you were interested in me being nude.”

  He rocked his pelvis upward, panting for breath. “I know I’m subtle, but you’re a perceptive woman.”

  “Subtle, yeah.” Her eyebrows arched, and she nodded sagely. “Right.”

  Slipping the buttons free on her shirt, she let the fabric slide off her shoulders to pool behind her. Her bra quickly followed, and a growl soughed from his throat. Her dusky pink nipples were puckered, begging to be sucked. He reached for her, but she shook her head and rose to her feet. She untied her ankle boots and toed out of them. Then she peeled off her tight breeches, baring her impossibly long legs. Ah, gods, he wanted those legs cinched around his waist while he fuc
ked her.

  The scent of her arousal was a heady aphrodisiac, curling into his nostrils. It did nothing for his control that she stared openly at his cock. A bead of precum slipped down the length of his erection. When she licked her lips, his restraint broke. He was on her in a split-second, dragging her to the floor. As soon as she was down, she bucked and flipped him onto his back. He had no problem with that, because every naked curve of her pressed against him.

  Finally.

  He grasped her hips, yanking her down on his dick. A little sound of surprise from her was cut short by a deep moan. Her head fell back, and her nails dug into his shoulders as he sank into her with one swift plunge. The fit was so hot and slick and tight, he thought his skull might explode.

  “Bryn…gods.”

  He felt the prick of her talons, sharp as a raven’s claws, and he could see the bird rippling just below the surface of her skin. He loved that she had to fight the beast within herself just as he had to. The sting of pain just underscored the pleasure rocketing through him, and he couldn’t hold back an animalistic sound of ecstasy. She pressed forward, taking him deep, grinding her clit downward.

  Sweat slipped down their skin in slow beads, gluing them together. She rode him hard, and the slap of their flesh echoed in the room. Their gasps and groans, the creak of the floorboards beneath them…it was a symphony of sheer carnality. He rocked upward to meet her every movement, his muscles burning as the speed and force increased. As ever, they pushed each other to their limits, shoving past all possible boundaries.

  He gripped her firm ass tight enough to bruise as he worked her on his cock. Then a wicked thought wisped through his mind, and he grinned. He eased his fingers inward, teasing the pucker of her anus. Her breath caught, those dark eyes going wide. Then he pierced her ass with two fingers, stretching her passage. Her breathing became even more ragged, and the scent of her desire amplified. His cock throbbed, and it was all he could do not to come then and there.

  He shoved his fingers into her ass in tandem with their thrusts, and low cries wrenched from her throat. Her head fell back, and he couldn’t resist leaning forward to nip and suck the length of her neck. The flavor of her was salty sweat and sweet woman. It added to his excitement. Little shivers ran through her, and he could sense how close she was to orgasm. Still not close enough for him. The feel of her sex clenching around his cock each time he penetrated her was just too much.

  Wrapping his free arm around her waist, he used it to pull her down to the base of his cock, going deeper than he had before. He scraped his fangs across the sensitive area under her ear, slammed his fingers into her ass, and knew the moment her control broke. She screamed, her body bowing in his embrace. Her inner muscles milked his dick and—thank all the gods—he could loosen his tenuous hold on his own restraint.

  Come jetted from his cock, filling her. He groaned, long and loud, shudders wracking his body. Continuing to stroke into her with his hand and dick, he dragged out both of their pleasure as long as possible. This was far too good to end too quickly. Another climax shook through her, and he couldn’t help the satisfaction he felt at having pleasured her so well. She finally collapsed against him, spent. He sucked in air, struggling to get enough oxygen.

  Resting his forehead against her chest, he slowly came down from the high. “Awesome.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Her voice was vague, and her fingers idly stroked the back of his neck.

  While she was still soft and languid, he lifted her off of his cock, gathered her close, and rose to his feet. He’d rather not give her the opportunity to recall she didn’t want him there. Perhaps it was underhanded, but he had a planet to save.

  He needed her.

  Maybe on more levels than he could admit, but right now he had to focus on stopping the apocalypse. Everything else would have to wait.

  But first he had to convince her that hiding out in rural Virginia wasn’t the best way to deal with what was coming. He mounted the stairs, and a quick look around at the top revealed her bedroom easily enough. Turning right, he strode to the end of the hall, deposited her on the rumpled bed, and climbed in beside her.

  “What time will your farmhands be back?” He’d seen the two men leave in a rickety pickup, just before he’d pulled into her long gravel driveway. He hadn’t caught the scent of anyone else on her property.

  She stirred, but didn’t bother to open her eyes. “Not until Sunday night. They’re brothers, and I gave them the weekend off to go celebrate their mom’s birthday in DC.”

  “Nice boss.”

  “Tough, but reasonable boss,” she corrected, meeting his gaze. “No sane person would ever call me nice.”

  And he would be the one to know that, wouldn’t he? Considering she’d told her jealous husband how Erik could be killed. He’d slain a dragon as a young mortal, the blood coating him and making him indestructible—except the one spot on his shoulder where a leaf had gotten stuck. Which meant he’d had to be stabbed in the back in order to die, so there was a certain irony to how she’d betrayed him.

  Then again, her husband had had every right to be enraged. Erik’s behavior had been less than honorable, toward Bryn and her husband both. He’d earned his ignominious death, but then she’d killed his son as well. Sigmund had been just three years old, a baby. That, Erik had never been able to forgive. Though he’d never asked her why she’d done it either, had he? As hard as it was to be fair about something like that, even a millennium later, he knew better than anyone that the myths surrounding their relationship were loaded with half-truths and ugly speculation.

  “Maybe I’m not sane.” He propped himself up on an elbow. “Because you were pretty damn nice a few minutes ago.”

  “Ha.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m going to be not nice pretty soon here.”

  “Kicking me out?” He cocked a brow.

  She sat up, pushing her hair over her shoulder. “This was a bad idea, you have to admit.”

  “Nope, not admitting anything.” He stayed where he was, keeping his pose relaxed. “But I also didn’t think we were quite done.”

  Pulling her knees to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them. “We were done a long time ago, Erik. This was just…chemistry.”

  “True, but if the chemistry is this good, why stop after only one round?”

  “Because you’re not here for a simple shagfest.” Her sharp gaze speared him. “This is just your way of trying to wear me down.”

  The smile he gave her was unabashed. “Guilty.”

  “It won’t work.” She sighed. “I’m too damn old to be that stupid.”

  “There is that.” He rolled to his back, folding his hands behind his head. “We’re both fucking ancient.”

  A ghost of a grin crossed her lips. She’d never been much for smiling or laughing, so he’d treasured every time he’d gotten her to lighten up. He doubted the years had made her less somber.

  “So, what?” He stared at the carved casing above her window as if it fascinated him. “You’re assuming the prophecy is right, and somehow I’ll kill a bunch of powerful giants and survive Ragnarök? You think I won’t need any help?”

  Her chin rested on her knees. “The gods are supposed to stand alongside you.”

  “When’s the last time you saw one? A god or a goddess?” He reached up and tugged at the small rune stone that hung around his neck. It marked him as one who served Odin, and Bryn wore a similar stone that marked her affiliation with the goddess Freya. The stone was supposed to be a way he could call on the god, if needed. Of course, gods and goddesses only answered if they felt like it. Odin hadn’t answered the last few times Erik had called. He’d once been the god’s right-hand man, a confidant and advisor as much as a warrior. Odin liked his berserkers to walk the world every now and then, living as mortals did, but he always brought them back to Valhalla after a couple of decades. Until now. Erik had been mostly left to his own devices since the end of the nineteenth century, and what little contact he’d
had with Odin had tapered off to nothing in recent years. It was more than a little troubling.

  Bryn licked her lips. “I haven’t tried to get in touch with Freya in ages, nor she me. I haven’t spent much time in the gods’ realm for…maybe eight or nine centuries now. I prefer staying away from Asgard, and she knows it.”

  “No one has been to Asgard, not for years,” he countered. “I’ve tracked down a few berserkers, and not a single one of them has had any contact with the gods. Odin, Thor, Frey, Tyr, Heimdall—none of those who are prophesied to die during Ragnarök.”

  “There are few who believe in our gods anymore. Maybe they’ve retreated to Odin’s hall to enjoy their eternal retirement. Valhalla can hold one hell of a party.” The forced note of hope and cheer in her tone made Erik give her a skeptical look.

  “Really, Bryn? That’s the argument you’re going to go with?”

  “Shit, I don’t know.” She forked her fingers through her hair. “How do you know they’re not doing the same thing we are and just hanging out with humans?”

  “You think they could resist the urge to meddle enough to hide?”

  She inclined her head to concede the point. “Laying low was never their strong suit, true, but you shouldn’t make assumptions with no evidence. If you’re not a god or goddess, you can’t go to Asgard unless called. You don’t know what’s going on there, which means they could all be just fine.”

  “Or they could all be dead, picked off one by one to change the prophecy.” Unlike many of the other deities humans believed in, Viking gods weren’t all-knowing, all-powerful, or invincible. Those omniscient gods might also exist; he had no way of knowing for certain, he just knew he’d never met one face-to-face. Viking gods and goddesses, though? He’d met most of them, liked a few of them, and shagged several more. Goddesses, that was. He hadn’t lived so long that he was off females. Some immortals got bored enough to swing both ways. More power to them, just not his style.