Ravish Her Completely(16)

She smoothed her hands over his wide shoulders, curled her nails into the fur and leather, and opened her mouth. She wanted to taste him, wanted his scent on her, filling her, consuming her. He stroked his tongue along hers, sucked on it, and groaned. When he turned them, started walking her toward the pallet, she felt the throbbing of his cock against her belly, and almost couldn’t find the strength to do what she was about to do.

I want this, want him, but I have to think about myself.

“If we’d met under different circumstances I could see myself letting you do whatever you wanted.” She broke away from the kiss, looked into his eyes, and without thinking about it, she brought her knee up, right into his crotch. He grunted, his eyes widening for a second before he fell to one knee and cupped himself.

Agata didn’t wait, didn’t even think about it. She’d already had her bag packed with her personal items, a few pieces of fruit, and she knew that if she did manage to get away she might very well die out there in the cold and wilderness.

Taking off out of the hut, she ran toward the right, hoping, praying, she was running toward the village. They may not have helped her before, but maybe if they saw her again, and she tried to explain as best she could that she needed help, they’d take pity on her? Either way she had to get away, had to find her way back home.

The underbrush wasn’t frozen yet, but it was hard, cold, and she didn’t have much on aside from the thin shift and leather coat Stian had given her. She tightened her hold on her purse, knowing that she shouldn’t have worried about her personal items, because here they didn’t mean anything. But Agata couldn’t part with her things from back home, couldn’t leave them behind with that heathen.

The heathen you want, desire, and grow wet for.

Shaking her head she focused on moving forward, not about to look behind her and see if he was following. He was following her; she knew that, felt it in her bones. She had to have the strength that she could get through this, because being a man’s property, having him touch her because he thought he had a right to it because he’d “captured” her, was not the life she wanted.

She saw the town through the break in the woods, and ran harder. Her feet and legs ate up the distance, and she felt sweat bead along her spine and between her breasts. Her injuries were healing nicely, almost all the way mended, but she felt a twinge of discomfort in her arm. That wasn’t her concern right now.

Tearing through the part in the trees, she stumbled forward and into the village. A few blonde haired, blue eyed children looked at her, but promptly ran away to their small, rustic and crude looking homes.

“Help me. God, can’t you hear me? Help me!” She shouted louder, screamed them out, and ran past the huts to the center of the village. A few men came running out, weapons in hands. Agata held up her hands, showing them she had no weapons and wasn’t a threat. “Help me … please.”

The men started shouting at her in their language, and holding up their axes and swords. She stopped, everyone coming closer to her. Their expressions and words were angry and directed right at her. Adrenaline was pumping through her veins hard and angry, and Agata felt lightheaded, frightened, and pissed. They came closer though, and she turned around, looking at the men that were no doubt about to mob her for reasons she assumed were because of Stian.

“What the hell is wrong with all of you?” She hadn’t meant it in the literal sense, because judging by the way they lived, the angry looks on their faces as they stared at her, Agata knew these people clearly lived by their own set of rules. Hot, angry tears fell from her eyes, and she grew hot from her rage that these people were blinded by their hatred. She knew they hated him, and that they hated her for associating with Stian. Didn’t they know that she hadn’t willingly gone to him? “You’re attacking me over what … Stian?”

They went crazier then, yelling and shouting, tossing their hands in the air. Even the women had come closer, spitting on the ground in front of her. Then they charged forward. One of the men grabbed her hair, yanked her head back, and she cried out. They kept screaming out the same word: Dýr.

Over and over they shouted that word, and she knew it was so wrong to leave, to think she had any hope of finding help with these heathens. They were worse than Stian, brutal and hated her when they knew nothing of her, when she was associating with a man they clearly hated. But why, why did they hate Stian? What had he done to them?

The sound of something loud, dangerous, and almost animal-like, resounded through the village. She spun around, out of the grasp of the man that held her, and turned back around to kick him in the cock. He grunted and fell forward, dropping his sword in the process so he could grab himself.