Home > Ravish Her(8)

Ravish Her(8)
Author: Jenika Snow

“I’ve never seen a woman as beautiful as you,” he said and lowered his head and inhaled again at the base of her throat. She was tense beside him, tried to move away an inch, but he tightened his hold on her waist and pulled her snugly against his body.

He was hard, so fucking hard his balls ached, and he yearned to bury his cock inside her lush little body.

She started speaking in a soft, breathy voice. She tried to remove his hand from her waist, but she put no strength behind it. He didn’t know what she said, but he could assume she was telling him that she didn’t want this.

She might say that, fight him to a point too, but he also picked up on the little movements she made, as if she was trying to refrain from letting go and allowing him to touch her the way he wanted.

He pushed her hand out of the way and continued to slide it along the slope of her waist, moving his palm forward until he placed it right on her mound.

She was hot, scorching even, and his cock gave a mighty jerk. He’d put leather back on, and only did so because it would help his desires be stemmed off slightly. He didn’t want to frighten her, but wanted her to get used to the feeling of him touching her.

Moving his hand lower until he cupped her pussy, the only thing blocking him from her bare heat and flesh was the fabric of her shift. He rubbed her, touched her in a way that had her ass pressed right up against his cock and had her murmuring things in a soft, breathy voice.

The murmurs spilling from her were soft but a little strained. He wished he knew what she spoke of, but soon he’d correct that. Soon, she’d speak his language, and he could tell her that she was irrevocably his.

Her hands were tightly woven in the hides, had the material wrapped between her little fingers hard enough that her knuckles were white. He rubbed her, applied enough pressure that he started to feel her wetness seep through the material, and growled out in approval.

He wouldn’t fuck her, not until he knew she was ready and willing for him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make them both feel good in the meantime.

“So soft and sweet, wet and mine, wife,” he said right by her ear. The way she trembled for him, tried to push him away yet pressed her ass closer to his groin, told him that this female was strong-willed as much as she was giving. He didn’t expect her to give in so easily, or at least he didn’t want her to.

Stian didn’t want a weak female. He was a warrior, and because of that, he required a woman who could give as good as she took. She’d need to be able to protect herself and take a life if need be.

“You’ll make a good wife, a good mother to my strong sons,” he whispered against her ear. He would teach her his language, show her how they could communicate with each other eventually.

Until then, they could use their bodies to say what they needed. He removed his hand when she started shaking slightly, grabbed her chin, and turned her head so she was looking at him.

She said a string of words, soft, low, but heated and aroused. Agata lowered her gaze to his mouth and spoke again. “So crazy. I shouldn’t be wanting the things I do at the moment.”

He watched her lips move, loved that they were full, pink, and slightly glossy because she kept licking at them.

The way she spoke told him she was right here with him. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, and he heard her inhale deeply. “Soon, Agata Soon, I’ll fill you with my seed and make you big and swollen with my sons. You’ll be mine until the gods take the sun and moon away.” He leaned back and rested against the hides, pulled her close, and kept her tightly to him.

He meant everything he said, even if she didn’t know what he spoke. She would though, and then she’d realize that although he was a beast, a bastard by all accounts, he’d never let her go.

 

 

9

 

 

Days. It had been days since she’d been taken to this hut, woken up with a chain around her ankle, and realized her life was not hers anymore.

She’d barely spoken since that night he held her, touched her, and whispered things in his language that probably meant she was his.

He had no intention of letting her go; that was clear by the way he watched her like a hawk, always making sure he knew where she was. Right now, she sat on the chair in front of the fire.

The nights were becoming almost frigid in temperature, and the days were so chilled that she found herself in front of these flames, watching Stian. When he did leave the hut, it was for short intervals, but he’d always keep her ankle tethered to the wall.

It was a masterful knot, with leather and metal worked into it, making it iron-tight and unbreakable.

Right now, she watched him clean the flesh of a pig, gut it, and slice it into several pieces and sizes. He hung up some, preserving it by drying it out, and she’d even seen him going to a small shed-type building a few feet from the hut. Smoke billowed out of it, and she had to guess it was a smoke hut of some sort.

Since waking up in this weird world, Agata had been thinking a lot about what that old woman said. The few times she looked outside, all she saw was thick woods surrounding her, but she felt the breeze come from the distance and knew there had to be water close.

It was strange being able to feel that, know that the water equaled the extra chill in the air.

She picked up on some phrases and words over the last few days, knew basic things, and realized that the language he spoke, although different from the Norwegian she studied, wasn’t completely foreign. Some of the words were different yet similar enough, and she pieced them together and figured out what he meant.

He had a few pieces of pork on a slab of metal and moved it over to the fire to place it on the flames. The scent of cooking meat, the aroma of bacon, filled her nose and had her belly twisting in hunger.

“I want to go outside, get some fresh air.” She pointed to the door. “Outside.” Then she pointed to herself. “Me, Agata.”

He didn’t respond, just continued to move the meat, cooking both sides, grabbing a few potatoes, and tossing them right on the flames.

She wracked her brain for the words she learned in the short time she’d been here. The vocabulary was very limited, but she finally remembered some of the words he’d understand.

“Sol. Uti.” Damn, was she even saying that right? She said, or meant to at least, “sun” and “outside”. She couldn’t put the words together, but she hoped he’d understand easily enough.

He set the small knife down and looked at her. For several seconds, he didn’t say anything, but then stood, unhooked the chain from her ankle, and grabbed her hand. He led her outside, and the sun, which was just starting to set, blinded her momentarily as it pierced through a space in the trees.

The air was cold, and she wrapped her arms around her waist. Stian pulled her close, had his arm around her shoulders, and his body heat engulfed her. The air felt nice on her face, and even if she’d felt it through the windows in the hut, there was something different about having it wash around her.

Glancing in each direction, she tried to seem like she was just looking around at the scenery, but in fact she was trying to remember which way she’d gone for the town.

The problem was she couldn’t remember because the feeling of his penetrating stare on her was unnerving. Rubbing her sweaty palms on her thighs, she glanced at him.

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