She did as he'd asked and noted the way his nostrils flared and his hands fisted as he tried to contain his pa.s.sions. But the one-sidedness of her standing almost nude with him lying there totally clothed struck her as an act of humiliation, and, although she did naught to shield her intimate body parts, tears welled in her eyes.

He was on his feet immediately. Standing before her, he tipped her chin up and asked, "What is amiss?"

Is he dense? "Everything, you big nasty troll! You seek to prolong my agony by mortifying me."

"I do not!"

"Why am I naked and you are not? To take away all my pride, that is why. There is inequality in our positions."

"If that is the problem, I can resolve it faster than you can blink." He unclothed himself with such speed she knew he'd done it many times before. But now, because of her complaint, she was faced with a nude-and very aroused-Thork. "Now we are unequal but in the opposite way. You are clothed and I am not."

"Hah! I do not call this being clothed." She glanced at him and saw that he'd been teasing.

"Another problem easily solved," he said, and drew the chemise up and over her head.

Medana looked at his face. She dared not look lower, not at his body or her own.

"Why did you feel humiliated to stand before me almost nude? Did you not know that I was admiring your body? s.e.x engages all the senses: touch, taste, smell, hearing, and sight."

Medana couldn't begin to imagine what he meant by that. Really, from her own limited experience, and from what she'd heard her women say, s.e.x was not a long, drawn-out affair. Yea, some men bothered with a little kissing or fondling, and some women did appear to enjoy the coupling, but in the end it was just a bodily function.

She drew herself up straight on a deep inhale and asked him, "What do you want from me, Thork?"

He gazed at her, let his eyes drift over her body, from her mouth to her curling toes, then held eye contact with her before saying, "Everything."

And, G.o.ds help her, in that moment, Medana wanted that, too.

Chapter Fifteen.

She was a scream . . .

Medana, the female pirate, was, in fact, a G.o.ddess.

To Thork, leastways.

Tall, slim, with a narrow waist flaring out to womanly hips. Above and below, light blonde curls sparkled in the sun. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were perfect half globes of polished ivory with pale rose centers. Her incredible violet eyes fringed with thick, darker blonde lashes only added to her allure. And, d.a.m.n his twisted soul, but he admired her stubborn hands-on-hips, legs-spread battle stance, too.

"Can I look at you?" he asked.

"You are already looking."

"More. I want to examine all of you."

"And if I say you nay?"

"I will just sneak peeks when you are not looking."

"Odious oaf!"

"Willful wench!"

"Randy rogue!"

"Delicious delight!"

Her eyes shot up to catch his gaze, and her lips trembled slightly with uncertainty. She had no conception of her own comeliness, he knew that. By the time he was done with her, though, she would know. That, he promised himself.

"Cunning charmer!" she tossed out belatedly.

He laughed. "Aren't you going to call me a loathsome lout?"

"Not if I have to bite my tongue b.l.o.o.d.y!"

He moved around her body, studying her, head to toe, then a return journey. He didn't touch her at all. Just gazed with appreciation at all her "delights." To his amazement, she did in fact have scars across her back. From her brothers' lashes? He couldn't dwell on that now, but, for a certainty, there were three Viking cowards who would sample the flavor of his wrath when he caught up with them.

For now, he moved his scrutiny of Medana lower, and, blessed Valkyries, even the backs of her knees were pretty. And the dimples on each side of her b.u.t.tocks? Oh, he intended to kiss each of them. As soon as possible.

"What are you doing back there?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Admiring your a.r.s.e."

"You never were!" She swiveled around and was about to pummel his chest at what she thought was mockery.

"I was, I was," he said, grabbing her by the waist, then lifting her higher by putting his hands under both b.u.t.tocks.

Instinctively, she raised her knees and wrapped her legs about his hips.

G.o.ds bless instincts! He swung her around in a circle several times, joyfully. Then he lowered himself down to the blanket, resting on his knees, taking her with him, under him. Thanks be for strong knees! When she lay back, glaring up at him, her legs were splayed on either side of his knees, which he widened even more.

"Ah, Medana, I am going to enjoy playing with your body."

"My goal in life: to be a man's play toy."

He chucked her lightly under the chin for her sarcasm. "And my goal today will be to bring you joy in the love play, too."

"Why would you care one way or the other?"

"You are so green in many ways. Do you not know that a woman's joy is a man's pleasure?"

"You made that up just now," she accused him.

He shook his head. "Nay, 'tis a well-known fact."

"Well, 'tis one many men have not yet learned if what my women relate is true."

"That I concede. But you are not to fear. I am an expert in these matters."

"Praise be to Asgard!"

"Be careful, m'lady, or I may have to punish you for your continuing sarcasm."

She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it firmly, deciding for once that silence might be the better path to follow. Wise woman!

He sat back on his knees and studied what he could see of her body. "I did not give your b.r.e.a.s.t.s near enough attention last night. Methinks that would be a good place to start."

"To st-start?" she sputtered.

"Some men have a preference for big b.r.e.a.s.t.s, but-"

"Mine are certainly not udders."

He smiled. "Is it not fortunate that I am not an udder man?"

Whatever she was about to reply to that got frozen on her tongue as he began to fondle her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Lifting them. Ma.s.saging them with wide circles of his palms. Tweaking the nipples 'til their hue changed from dusky rose to pale red. "Do you like this kind of love play?" he asked her.

She refused to answer.

So he leaned down and began to suckle one nipple, while flicking the other with a middle finger.

A little yelp of surprise escaped her lips, and she stiffened as if bracing against the pa.s.sions he was clearly igniting in her. When he changed b.r.e.a.s.t.s and had both nipples equally stiff and her back was arched up for more, he asked again, "Do you like this kind of love play?"

"Yea, I do, d.a.m.n your hide. If you stop, I might have to scratch out your pretty eyes."

"You like my eyes?" he murmured just before taking almost all of one breast into his mouth, then drawing back slowly until he released the nipple with a wet pop.

"Of course I like your eyes. Every woman who sees you does, and you know it, too."

He did know that women liked his eyes, but for some reason her liking his eyes pleased him immensely. "What other body parts of mine do you like?"

"As if I would tell you! Your conceit needs no more puffing up. Yikes! Now what are you doing?"

"Licking your belly."

"Why?"

"Why, why, why? Have I mentioned my Aunt Eadyth's irksome parrot? Reminds me of you. Does there have to be a reason for everything? Just lie back and enjoy."

"I hardly think that I would enjoy-"

"Shhh! Oh, look what I found here. A thatch of spun gold. I wonder what secrets I will find underneath." He inserted a finger between her folds and stroked until she dewed against him. "Just as I thought. Honey."

She whimpered. "Would it do any good to tell you what a perverted man you are?"

"Only if you mean it in a good way." He continued stroking her and told her, "You are wet for me, sweetling."

"It's probably all the wine you forced on me, leaking out."

He choked back a laugh. "Nay, 'tis not wine, though I warrant your woman-dew is just as sweet."

Her eyes, which she'd had scrunched tightly closed, shot open. "You would not dare to taste me there."

"Actually, I would dare, but not just yet. I do not want to shock you too much too soon. But if you keep on questioning every little thing I do, I might need to do something drastic to still your flapping tongue."

She muttered something about his being the flapping tongue, but then she closed her mouth and eyes. You'd think she was going to the gallows.

Using his knees, he spread her wider and gazed down at that mysterious place women held so private. Lovely, it was, in an earthy sort of way. Like the petals of a flower carrying the glisten of raindrops. When he studied her enough with his eyes, he studied her with his fingertips. Stroking. Flicking. Inserting. Always avoiding the one spot that would surely bring her to the brink of peaking. As the bud unfurled, her thighs tightened and several times she bucked up reflexively before she caught herself. She was biting her bottom lip to keep from crying out.

"If you could see yourself here the way I do, Medana," he said in a voice raw with his own arousal, "you would know what power women hold over men."

She made a gurgling sound of protest.

"I wonder, Medana, if I could turn that little whimper you just made into a scream. Of s.e.x joy." He used his elongated c.o.c.k then to touch the nubbin of pleasure at the top of her cleft.

She flinched and tried to escape him by shuffling her bottom upward on the blanket.

But he would have none of that. Placing one hand firmly on her belly, he gripped his c.o.c.k with the other and used it to strum the unfurling bud like a musician plucking a stringed instrument.

Involuntary tremors shook her body, and disjointed words pleaded for relief. She did scream then, a long wail of intense pleasure, as her hips rose, wanting more and more of what he was giving her.

Her peaking died down, and his senses became heightened as desire licked through his body to the point of pain. He could not hold himself off anymore. Caught in the throes of a driving need, he thrust himself inside her tight sheath. Then, bracing himself on his straightened arms, he waited for her to realize what he had done. And tried to curtail his own fast-approaching peak, especially when her molten folds shifted to accommodate his size.

When she came back to her senses, he asked, "Are you all right? Am I hurting you?" Remarkable that I can put two words together!

She only then appeared to realize that he had impaled her and was seated inside her body almost to her womb. "Oh. Oh!" She wriggled a little from side to side, then told him, "Nay, it does not hurt. Precisely. But . . ."

"But what?"

"There is a lot of you."

"Thank you." Now, wiggle your a.r.s.e again, sweetling. Yea, juuust like that.

"I did not mean it as a compliment," she gasped out.

"Believe me, that was a compliment."

"Whew! How did you squeeze it all in without me noticing?"

Holy Thor! I've got a talker here. Some women moan excessively during s.e.x, some even scream. Medana is clearly a nervous talker. Ah well, she is new to bedsport. I should be patient. "The slickness of your excitement eased the way. Woman-dew, it is called."

"You mean, the honey business."

He laughed. Chatter, chatter, chatter.