Page 28 of Ravager
His eyes closed as Cherine took him in her mouth again, but she kept her fingers rubbing that spot. He slammed his cock into her dripping mouth as hard as she could take him, drawing it in and out of the warmth faster and faster. His balls drew up into him, and he grasped her head, tugging hard at her hair to keep her in place as he came. He moaned loudly, grunting through theorgasm that shot a full load into her mouth, which she promptly swallowed up.
When she was sure he was done coming, she delicately slid him out of her mouth and wiped herself with the back of her hand. Erik wasn’t sure what was up or what was down, and he wavered on his feet until he had to lean on the bed.
“Well,” Rolf said slowly, and Erik suddenly remembered they weren’t alone. He would have felt a tad bit embarrassed for coming, and coming so hard, in front of Rolf, but the endorphins were still running on a rampage through him.
“You’re quite the woman,” Rolf went on. “I can see why Erik is so taken with you. Naturally, we can’t let him have all the fun, can we, my beauty?”
Erik caught his breath and eyed Rolf. Was this it? Was Rolf going to take her for his own pleasure now?
Rolf reached forward and gently placed his hand on the side of her cheek, moving her head over to face him. “I want to see what he tastes like.”
He leaned in and gently kissed Cherine—closed-lipped at first, and then they both opened for each other, and Erik could see his tongue gently plying her. A murderous wave of jealousy ran through him, making his hands ball up into fists.
Rolf slowly pulled back, his eyes drooping with desire, searching every corner of Cherine’s face. She was so painfully beautiful to Erik, and it was only natural that Rolf saw it too. He knew he had no real reason to be jealous—he always knew Rolf would take her in the end—but he couldn’t help it. Cherine didn’t deserve Rolf, no matter how much bigger and more powerful he was, no matter how well he could treat her. Erik had kinship with Cherine; Rolf would only want something physical.
Although, as Rolf stood, still watching Cherine, Erik could see the strange tenderness that possessed the giant beast of a man. For all his big, broad glory, his devilish eyes, bronze skinand long black hair, there was something almost sweet in the way he looked at her.
And, interestingly enough, that worried Erik too.
“My beauty,” Rolf said with a soft smile, “I am not done with you. I want you in my chambers tonight, right after dinner. Erik will bring you.”
He shot Erik a look that cemented the deal then quickly turned and walked out of the room, leaving Erik and Cherine alone. A cold chill rattled the windows, and Erik thought it might as well have been his heart.
Erik would have to deliver Cherine to him tonight.
But would Erik get to stay?
Chapter 13
Cherine
The noise in the dining hall was deafening that evening. From the clinking of my wine glass and ale mug to the slobbering eating habits of the unmannered Vikings and their riotous conversations, I could barely think. Not that I wanted to think all too much; after all, I kept dwelling on what Rolf had ordered, and that prospect scared me. Still, I wanted to be prepared for it, though I knew it wouldn’t do much good.
How could I ever be prepared for a night with a Viking leader, especially one built like a small house? Erik, I could manage. In fact, Erik, I enjoyed more than I wanted to admit. But Rolf? He was a whole other animal.
He is an animal, I thought as I took another gulp of honeyed mead. The man himself was sitting across the table from me. Every so often, his eyes would meet mine and crinkle at the corners, something that made my heart flutter in an unwanted way, but for most of the meal, he was either watching Erik beside me or egging on conversation with the newcomer, Arvid.
Arvid was a rather handsome older man, with shining red hair and a crooked smile, and, as I soon found out, he spoke fluent French from having lived in a Viking-won settlementfurther down the coast. He was as charming—and civilized—as anything, almost fooling me into thinking he was a Frenchman and not a Northerner.
“So, as you see, dear Rolf,” Arvid said as he dabbed the corner of his sleeve against his mouth, finishing his plate of pheasant, “this could mean the French king is open to negotiations with us chieftans.”
“But you say it’s just a rumor,” Rolf pointed out.
“Yes, it is just a rumor. However, if it happens to be true, then you might be able to take the land and become a duke.”
Rolf looked down at his glass of ale and took a hearty sip. He chuckled to himself. “I can take the land anyway, and I wouldn’t have to swear off my gods. Do you think Odin would look proudly upon me for turning my back on him? Do you think Valhalla would wait for a traitor? I think not. I’d rather die than turn to Jesus and be admitted a scrap of land and a village of sniveling Frenchmen. Wouldn’t you?”
“This is not what I’d do, Rolf, but it is apparently what Helge has done. He signed the treaty with the king and now controls several towns around the Seine, towns you had lost the last time you were in the country.”
Rolf scoffed and exchanged a pointed look with Erik.
Arvid went on, “And the further inland you journey, the more resistance you will face. Is it better to die with nothing than to live with something? I think not.”
Rolf gave him a dismissive wave. “Ah, these politics bore me, Arvid. Why do you think the king of Norway had me exiled?”
Arvid and Erik exchanged a look while I leaned forward, my curiosity piqued. Rolf was exiled?
He caught my eye and smiled most charmingly. “Would it shock you, my beauty, to learn I am not operating under my country’s wishes and have in fact been ousted by a petty old man so many claim to be their king?”