Mastered By the Viking King by Lily Harlem

Chapter 9

His wife’s shocked expression was worth ten of Njal’s silver coins.

“Aye, Tove, I own your body and that includes your mouth and now I want your mouth.”

She opened her mouth as if to speak but no words came out.

His heart swelled. He’d gotten lucky with his new, untouched maiden wife. She was as responsive as she was tight, as eager to please as she was innocent. A wise, compassionate woman to rule by his side.

When his last wife had dishonored him, the anger, the shame, the sense of being taken for a fool was almost too much to bear. The heated blood in his veins burned his soul, tortured his dreams, and made him wonder if he’d ever find a woman again—a woman who would make him forget the betrayal and hope for happiness again.

He sent thanks to the gods for his good fortune in finding Tove. She held promise for everything he wanted for his and his sons’ future.

“You are a clever queen,” he said, releasing his pants. “You will quickly learn how to use your mouth on me.”

He revealed his hard cock. Just the thought of her taking it between her sweet lips had need surging up his shaft. He’d been erect from the moment he’d walked over to the bed with the tray of fruit. His patience was running dry.

Everything about her fueled his desire. Her small perfect breasts, her white as snow skin, the hair at the juncture of her thighs. Teaching her about pleasure was an honor and a delight and still she had so much to learn—so many ways in which to take his cock.

“Hold it in your hand,” he said. His cock was level with her face, his pants bunched around his thighs.

“Aye, my king.” She swallowed.

Her nervous gulp only added to his lust.

Tove’s delicate hands wrapped around his shaft, one in front of the other, the congested purple head protruding from her grip.

Njal thought he might release then and there. Her small fingers against his dark erection were a sight was enough to make any hot-blooded Viking lose his mind.

He battled for control, groaning as he tipped his head back. “Ah, Odin!”

“Now what?” she whispered.

“Stroke me.” He wrapped his fist over both of hers. “Like this.” He guided her, taking her hands from the base to the tip. After a few strokes, he let her continue on her own.

Her touch lightened.

“No, keep it firm.” He looked down at her again.

She was concentrating, her attention on his cock as if fascinated by it.

He moaned and ran his hand to her nape, clasped her plait. “Keep going.” His belly tightened. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t, my king.”

Njal locked his knees. His balls tightened. Soon, he’d sink into her mouth, but he didn’t want this first time enjoying the ministrations of her hands to end.

He moaned, watching a thick drip of pre-cum escape his tip.

“Lick it,” he gasped.

Odin’s raven, I might spurt if she does!

He steeled himself as she leaned forward, her small pink tongue poking out, swiping over his slit.

“Ah!” He gritted his teeth. That was all he could take, he had to get inside her. “Open your mouth.”

She did as he’d asked, looking up at him, her eyes wide.

“Forgive me,” he muttered, clasping her nape and plunging his cock into her hot mouth.

He cried out, the slickness of her wet tongue on his shaft almost too much to bear.

He drove deeper. “No… teeth…” he managed. “No… teeth.”

She gripped his hips, her body tense.

But Njal was past coherent thought, withdrawing, then plunging back until his tip butted up against the back of her throat. He was so nearly there, his release battling to be free, his balls aching with need.

“Swallow!” he snarled through gritted teeth. “Swallow my pleasure… ah… ah…”

He gave into the urge, ecstasy rushing up his cock and into the back of her throat. He held her tight and shoved deeper. He cried out when she swallowed, and tugged on the tip of his cock at the perfect moment.

She did it again, drawing even more seed from him. Somewhere in his mind he knew he was holding her in a powerfully tight grip, forcing himself down her throat. But passion ruled, and he thrust his hips forward yet again.

Finally, satisfaction rolled through his pelvis. He pulled out, cupping her cheeks as he studied her face.

She was breathing fast, her lips puffy, her skin flushed.

She is my goddess.

“My love,” he gasped, his brow hot.

She licked her lips. “My king.”

Her chest was slick with sweat.

For the love of Thor, I’ll never get enough of her.

“I pleased you?” she asked, slipping her hands to his cock, holding it gently.

“Aye, you did.”

She smiled, caressing his softening shaft. “I only want to please you.”

He scooped his hands beneath her armpits and hauled her to standing.

She released his cock, flattening her palms upon his chest.

“I don’t believe my heart will ever beat for another,” he said, lowering his head so his nose almost touched hers.

Her eyes widened. “Oh, Njal, I feel the same, already.”

“We were fated to rule Halsgrof together. That knowledge is as clear as a full moon on a cloudless night.”

“I hope you are right.” She slid her hands around his neck and pressed her breasts to his chest, squeezing close.

“I am right. I am King Njal of Halsgrof.” He caught her mouth in a tender kiss, stroking his tongue along hers.

A surge of protectiveness welled within him. This small, delicate woman in his arms had shown him such trust, had proven herself to be brave and wise. Like the doves she was named after, she sought peace and harmony—and handled herself with grace, even confidence.

He’d spend his life making sure she was safe and protected, happy and satisfied. It was a vow he made to himself and to the gods. He would not fail Queen Tove—that was not something he could live with in this life, or the next.

* * *

A delicious sense of satisfaction warmed her limbs—even between her thighs—as Tove washed and dressed. Her jaw ached a little, and she could still taste the king’s pleasure.

“Father! Father!”

The curtain pulled open suddenly.

“Father!”

Two small boys rushed forward, Wanda close behind.

“Ah, my sons!” King Njal stooped and held out his arms as two small boys ran over the fur-lined floor toward him.

They hurled themselves at Njal, and were both scooped up in his embrace as he stood, holding them against his bare chest. “Boys, you must meet your new queen.”

“Does that mean she is our new mother?”

“Aye, Knud, it does.”

“A new mother.” Frode, the younger of the two boys, stared at Tove for a few seconds then popped his thumb in his mouth, sucking furiously.

Njal looked at him and chuckled. “She is beautiful, aye?”

“Aye,” Knud said, wriggling.

Njal set him down though kept hold of Frode.

Knud walked up to Tove and nodded. “Can you hunt?”

“Not very well,” she said.

“Can you cook?”

“When there is food to cook.”

“Do you know sagas?”

She smiled. “Aye, many. Do you like sagas?”

Frode pulled his thumb from his mouth. “I do.” He resumed sucking.

“Perhaps we should sit on the bed, and I will tell you one.”

“I’d like that,” Knud said. He slipped his hand into hers. “I wished for a new mother who could tell sagas and cook. Father is an excellent hunter. He will always ensure there is food for our table.”

“He is excellent at many things.” Tove caught her husband’s gaze.

He smiled.

A lovely sense of belonging enveloped her, and she held out her hands for Frode.

He slipped into her embrace happily, his small arm winding around her shoulder.

“To the bed,” she said. “I will tell you a story of giants and gods.”

“Giants and gods?” Knud scampered to the bed and climbed upon it. “I am scared of giants because I am a boy of only five summers. But Father tells me when I am a warrior nothing will frighten me.”

“Your father is right.” She settled next to Knud with Frode on her lap.

“I will return.” Njal held his hand up and strode from the room.

“And I will ensure water is hot in the bath,” Wanda said. “It is Saturday. The boys bathe on a Saturday.”

“Thank you, Wanda.” Tove smiled. “Right, where were we, boys?”

“The giants and the gods,” Knud said, snuggling close.

“Ah, yes, now this is a saga about Mjolnir. You know what Mjolnir is?”

“Aye, it is Thor’s magic hammer,” Knud said with a nod.

“It is. And did you know that once, many summers and winters ago, it was stolen by one of the giants?”

“No, I didn’t know that,” Frode said, his thumb slipping from his mouth. He took a lock of Tove’s hair and wrapped it around his finger.

“Well, it was—and he refused to return it.”

“But Thor did get it back.”

“Of course he did. Mjolnir belongs to him, and him alone.”

“So, what happened?” Knud asked.

“The giant said he would give it back if the beautiful goddess Freya agreed to marry him.”

Knud pulled a face. “Freya would not wish to marry an ugly giant.”

“No, she would not. Luckily, Thor had an idea. Do you know what he did?”

Both boys shook their heads.

“He gallantly disguised himself as Freya, traveled to Giantland, and pretended to be part of the wedding.”

“And then what happened?” Knud asked.

“As soon as the hammer was returned to Thor—the giant believing he was now married to Freya—Thor raised it up and destroyed the giant in a single blow.”

“Thor did that?”

“Aye, he did.”

Knud slithered off the bed and banged his hand against his fist. “I will be as brave and powerful as Thor one day.” He rushed around the bedroom, punching the air, acting out a slaying scene in his imagination.

Frode was quick to join in, growling and snarling, pretending to be a giant.

Tove laughed. Her new sons were full of energy, and would grow to be fine Viking warriors.

Frode rushed to the table of treasures. As he rummaged around inside it, an amulet clattered to the floor.

“Careful.” Tove climbed off the bed to retrieve it.

“I am Thor the mighty.” Knud bumped into his brother as a comb fell out, landing by Tove’s feet.

“Knud, Frode, please be careful.” She picked it up, but as she did so, both boys barged into the furniture. The box with the dragon clasp slipped from the end of the table and crashed to the floor, the contents spraying onto the furs.

“That is enough!” she snapped. “These are treasures.”

“Sorry…” Knud came to a halt. “Sorry, Mother.”

“Knud! Frode!” Wanda’s called. “Come for your bath.”

“Aye, we will.” Knud took off at a run.

Frode followed, quickly disappearing.

Tove sighed and bent to retrieve the box. Around it was a scatter of hairpins, brooches, bracelets, and necklaces. She scooped them into the box, then plucked several beads from the fur. Standing, she stared at the banished queen’s treasures now safely back in their box.

“Tove!”

She looked up.

King Njal stood holding the curtain, his eyes narrowed and his mouth a stern line.