Of course not. Silly man! Why would I want to top off the best night of my life with a showstopper of a carnal experience? Not that the Viking S-spot wasn’t phenomenal. But, jeesh, she might never get this chance again. What was it they said about a window of opportunity? Jump while the window is open, babe. So she grabbed him by the ears, yanked him down, and whispered against his gaping mouth, “Tell me.” Then she bit his bottom lip and added, “Show me.”
Amid bouts of laughter, and then no more laughter, Cnut showed her how a woman could have a blended orgasm of both the clitoris—though he called it her honey spot—and her G-spot from the inside—he claimed only Vikings with long fingers could multitask like this. Suffice it to say, she came like a Fourth of July fireworks. If the people below could hear her moans and screams—she hoped they couldn’t—they would think Cnut was torturing her. He was. Torturing her with pleasure.
She had the wits, still—and wasn’t that amazing?—to entertain a sudden thought. Cnut was going out tomorrow, hunting. Not just hunting wild game, but demon vampires, as well. In other words, dangerous. He’d implied earlier that a vangel was strengthened by taking blood. Did that mean that even the small amount taken from her, an innocent, so to speak—okay, not so innocent at the moment—would make him stronger?
Upon asking him, he nodded hesitantly.
She tilted her head to the side, in invitation.
He made a low growling sound, feral almost, and clamped his fangs, which were eerily long by now, onto her neck and sucked. She felt the suction all the way to her fingertips, her toes, her breasts, and the place where they were still joined. Cnut yanked his bloody teeth off her neck and reared back, roaring into his own inner fireworks. It was glorious to watch.
She fell immediately into a deep, sated sleep. He was gone when she awakened, but she could swear she’d heard him whisper in her ear before leaving. “Mine!”
Was that the glutton in him speaking, or something else?
Chapter 16
Then he got a devil of a shock . . .
Cnut couldn’t stop smiling the next day. And his men remarked on it. More than once. They were worse than his brothers, poking their noses in each other’s business.
“A companion he named her. Hah! I wish my companions could make me grin like a goat with two cocks.”
“How many times did you peak?”
“Was it good bedsport or so-so bedsport? Not that sex is ever bad for a man.”
“Was she an enthusiastic bed partner? Betimes my Solig lies there like a lump of whale blubber.”
“I wonder if she rode him like a cow man?”
“Dost mean a cowboy?”
“Boy, man, same thing.”
“Did ye make her fart?”
“Did she make you fart?”
He changed the subject by asking Thorkel about Dyna.
Thorkel sighed deeply. “I want her. Badly. But, holy Thor! None of my usual charms are working.”
“What charms are they?” asked young Atli, one of the squires, who was taking Igor’s place on Cnut’s hunting expedition.
The others snickered, but Thorkel took the question seriously. “Well, I usually regale women with tales of the battles I have engaged in.”
Ulf, Njal, and Ogot nodded at this.
“But I have not fought in any battles yet,” Atli complained.
“Then I let her know how much pleasure she will get from my bedsport skills.”
“By then, the women are usually drooling, ready to shed their gunnas before you can finish your horn of ale. Is that not right?” asked Ulf.
“Usually. But with Dyna . . . well, I have to admit, she just laughs.”
I would, too, Cnut thought. Was I ever this dumb about women? Honestly, Thorkel is generally a smart man, a great warrior. What is it about women that turns men into morons?
“I am far-famed in bedsport skills, but Dyna won’t give me a chance to prove myself. What do you think, Cnut?”
Me? Why me? “Have you asked her what she wants?”
“She wants marriage.”
“So you have said before,” Cnut pointed out. “How old are you? Why is that a problem? Mayhap it is time you took the step all men must take if they want sons. Legitimate sons.”
“Twenty and five. It is not marriage itself that is the problem, but Dyna demands that I promise to take no other wives or concubines, that I promise never to beat her or her son, and any children we may have together, no matter the circumstances, and that I never, ever try to make her fart during sex. Who was it amongst you, by the by, who blabbed that fact to her?”
Ulf’s already ruddy face got redder. “I might have mentioned it to Helga who might have mentioned it to Girda who might have—”