But he put both hands to her hips and held her in place. In fact, he moved her flush up against his cloth-covered bulge.
“You are torturing me,” she said on a moan.
“Sweet torture, I hope.”
He began to kiss her then, and, oh, he was a good kisser. She’d always known that Vikings were masters of the art of sailing and fighting. She’d had no idea that some were also masters of kissing. In truth, she’d never known there was an art to it, but there was. There definitely was.
He framed her face with both his hands and moved his lips over hers, slanting and pressing, licking and moving from side to side until he got their alignment right. And then, praise gods and goddesses, he kissed and kissed and kissed her until she was open and ready for his tongue, which he used like an instrument of sexual assault.
“You are too good at this,” she murmured during one of his brief breaks.
“Kissing?”
She nodded.
“I practice a lot.”
“I’ll bet you do,” she said, and nipped at his bottom lip.
He laughed and nipped her back.
Her entire body felt as if it were humming, waiting for something momentous to happen. “Are you going to tup me now?”
He made a gurgling sound. “Nay, Drifa, sex is like a good boar stew, best left to simmer and simmer.”
“I have simmered enough. Do it. Now.”
“Nay. First, I am going to bring you to peak, with my fingers alone. Do you know what peaking is?”
“Not exactly.”
“Remember the time in your garden?”
“Oh.” How could I forget?
“Have you ne’er brought yourself to peak with your own fingers?”
“Are you demented?” Get on with it, for gods’ sake.
“I guess I will just have to show you then.”
“Wait. Are you going to be peaking, too?”
“I hope not. Leastways, I will try to forestall my pleasure until you have had yours. That is why I am keeping my braies on. Otherwise, I fear you would cause me to lose control.”
Drifa rather liked the idea of her being able to make Sidroc lose control. She eyed him speculatively.
Sensing her thoughts, he chuckled. “Put your hands on my shoulders, Drifa.”
She could do that, though she wasn’t sure why.
She soon found out.
“Lean back. More than that. Ah, just so.”
If she hadn’t been holding on to his shoulders, she would have fallen backward. Acrobatic sex? The man really is perverted. But she was unable to think after that. About manure. Or acrobatics. Or anything else.
He was touching a part of her body between her legs, a spot where all the nerve endings in her body seemed to be centered. She began to keen with the mounting tension filling her from head to toes to the tips of her fingers, but especially down there. If she hadn’t been so focused on what the fingertip was doing, she would have realized that the middle finger of his other hand was stuck up inside her. She yelped and tried to rise up, but he would not let her.