Page 38 of Ravager
His words hit me as softly as the falling leaves. I wasn't sure how to comprehend any of the things he said to me. First, Erik being painted as a barbarian, then the loss of his poor wife and kid, and now he was talking about making me his duchess. I looked to him, bewildered. He placed his hand on top of mine and squeezed it.
“As long as you don’t find me repulsive. You don’t, do you?” he asked, his eyes roaming over every delicate plane on my face.
“Of course not,” I whispered, tempted to look away from his gaze. He was looking too deep, and I didn't even know how I was feeling. He was asking me to be his duchess when he would no doubt be crowned duke. Me. A duchess. A peasant with no money, no skills, no family. How could I ever become anything more than just a beautiful woman trapped in never-ending labor and poverty?
But it had been several weeks since my old life ended. It was time for me to stop thinking about the past, time for me to look forward and embrace my new life as much as I could.
I sniffed delicately and squeezed his hand back. “I’d be honored to be your duchess, Rolf.”
He wasted no time in showing me how happy that made him. He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me passionately. I fell into an easy rhythm, lips against lips, enjoying the intimate connection.
After a few minutes of fiery kisses, he stood and grabbed the rope that had tied the basket to my saddle. My eyes widened at the sight of it between his tanned hands, the taut way he pulled at both ends.
“Don’t fear, my beauty,” he told me. “I will not harm you. I just wonder if you’d oblige a fantasy of mine.”
I feared, regardless. “What is it?”
“Strip naked, and I will show you. Just remember, it is unwise for a duchess to refuse the commands of the duke. If you still wish to have that role, that is.”
He was testing me. Though that sly smile was twitching on his mouth, his eyes were hard, as if daring me to disobey. A sick part of me was tempted, just to see what he’d do, but I quickly buried that feeling. As loving and sincere as Rolf was in this moment, I could never be truly fooled by his nature. I saw the signs of the beast lurking deep within his bulk.
“As you wish,” I said as easily as I could muster. I fumbled with my dress until it loosened and stepped out of it. I was Rolf’s now, and while I’d expected us both to be unclothed at some point, it didn’t mean it wasn’t scaring me to death.
He let his eyes soak me up. His grin stretched.
“I will be a lucky duke,” he commented lustily, “won’t I?”
“You will,” I said with a shaking voice, twitching from the early winter chill.
“Prove it to me,” he said. He pointed to the ground. “Down you go, on all fours. This time, you are not a cat in heat, but a horse I will ride.”
Mindful of his nickname, the Walker, because he broke so many horses’ backs, I froze, unable to move.
Rolf chuckled. “Not literally. You'll see. Now, down you go.”
Before he could come over and push me down, I quickly dropped my naked body to the ground, balancing on hands and knees. I waited in trepidation as the cold seeped in from the dirt.
“Beautiful,” he murmured. He slipped the rope over my head, in front of my face, and placed his fingers at my mouth, teasing my lips. “Open up.”
I gingerly opened my mouth, and the rope was passed through it, tasting like earth and wood.
“You can bite down,” he said. “You may want to.”
Before I had a chance to react, he shoved a wet finger inside me, the cold and shock causing me to jump. He yanked the rope back, now acting as reins. My head came up, and I panted, the rope pulling at the tender sides of my mouth.
“Still yourself,” he warned. I heard him remove his clothes and saw his tunic fly to the side. He inserted two more fingers, stretching me from the inside out. I bit down through the pain, trying to will my body to relax and accept him. But he was rough and insistent, and it took a while of him sliding his fingers in and out of me before I was lubricated enough. My heart rate slowed, and I accepted my somewhat degrading position.
“Now comes the real ride,” he whispered. With one hand at the small of my back, pulling me into him, he plowed his iron-hard cock into me, filling me immediately. I groaned, more from pain than anything else, my body still raw from his pounding the night before. But Rolf didn’t seem to mind. He kept thrusting forward, his grunts growing louder and louder until they filled the forest.
All the while, he kept tugging hard at the reins, yanking my head back like I was a wild and unruly filly that needed to be tamed. The occasional smack of his giant palm hit my cold andbare ass, and I knew it was beet red and tender like the rest of me.
After several minutes—too long, in my opinion—Rolf finished with a hearty cry, and I could practically feel him spilling out from inside me.
He almost collapsed on top of me, and I fell to the ground from his weight, the cold dirt rubbing uncomfortably against my nipples.
“Well done,” he said between breaths. His voice was hoarse. “You passed the test. A duchess you can ride like a stubborn mare is the duchess who belongs to a Viking.”
He pulled out of me and then walked off to the trees to urinate. I was left with a face full of dirt, wondering if I had agreed to the right life after all.