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"Stay." She pushed down on his chest, then moved
herself along the bench and lifted herself up enough to
hover above him. Using her hand to guide it, she lowered
herself onto his cock, impaling herself on him. She slid down
until he was planted deep inside her. She was so hot and
moist and ready for him, it slipped in easily.
They rocked together as he pushed up and she slid
down on him. She liked this view. She liked being able to
control the tempo of their movements and watching his face
as the rhythm brought him pleasure and increasing tension.
Henrik reached up and tweaked the tips of her breasts.
When she let herself down on him, it hit the spot deep inside
that made her jump. The hot fire blazed within, needing him
to quench it. She groaned as she bounced up and down
faster and faster.
"Oh, Lord," she murmured. "Henrik. Love-" She
screamed as he pinched a nipple hard at the same time his
cock surged against her. It sent her over the edge in the
spasms of release. She sobbed aloud as the heat exploded
within her, sending repeated jolts through her body. He
pushed into her two more times before the spasms of her
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release sucked him into spilling his seed.
The wonderful starbursts of pleasure kept firing off
within her, launching her higher and higher into the oblivion
of total ecstasy. For long minutes afterward, she did naught
but sit there, clutching him within her body, disinclined to
move or let him go. The pleasure softened and faded but left
her peacefully spent.
She pulled herself off him and half collapsed to her
knees by the side of the bench, her head pillowed on his
stomach. He stroked her damp hair. They stayed that way
for some time, content to be peaceful together, touching each
other.
Eventually, though, he roused. She lifted her head and
sighed. He stood up, went and picked something else up
from a corner of the room. When he came back she saw he
held a cake of soap.
"Now that we've sweated and licked all the dirt away,
we use the soap to wash," he said. The note of humor in his
voice told her he appreciated the mild irony of his words.
They used another bucket of water to soap themselves.
Henrik poured water from the bucket over her hair and
massaged the soap into it, careful to be sure none dripped
forward into her eyes. The feel of his fingers rubbing at her
scalp and slipping along the strands of her hair would have
been arousing were she not already so sated.
She did the same for him, in turn, and found a different
sort of satisfaction and intimacy in the task of soaping his
hair. It roused again that possessive longing to have more of
him than just these few stolen moments. She fought back the
tears and won.
"Come now for the last part of the bath," he said, when
she'd got his hair nicely full of lather. "The part that will
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make you feel refreshed."
He drew her to her feet and led her to the door, then out.
She looked around, hoping no one could see them as they
walked naked through the trees. They were alone, however,
and she heard no sound of anyone else nearby. The cooler,
drier air was a shock on her bare skin after the hot dampness
of the sauna. It was naught compared with the shock when
he led her along a path downhill to the river, and waded
right in, dragging her with him.
"What are you doing?" she yelled at him as he pulled
her along.
"This is the final step in getting truly clean," he said.
"'Tis a shock at first, but get in it and you'll find it refreshing.
At the outset, at least, it wasn't refreshing at all, it was
just cold. Her nipples tightened into pebbles and gooseflesh
popped out all over her. She squealed as he plunged in,
moving out in the water until he was up to his chest. He
scooped up handfuls of water to rinse off his chest, then
ducked his head in it to wash away the soap in his hair.
Fianna hesitated, but since she was already in the water,
and had a head full of soapy hair, she followed his example.
It was cold on her thighs, then on her belly and her breasts. It
was cold on her shoulders and in her hair when she dipped
it into the water to rinse off the soap.
"Now jump up and down a few times to get your blood
moving," he advised. He held her hand and hopped with
her, bobbing up and down in the water. After a few minutes
she realized her body was adjusting to the water
temperature and it wasn't too unpleasant. Still, she didn't
object when he said it was time to go back.
They got out of the water and ran, hand in hand, up the
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hill back to the steam hut, laughing together like children,
their wet hair streaming out behind them. They reached the
hut and dressed quickly in the clean clothes left waiting for
them. By the time she was dressed, Fianna had to admit that
she did feel refreshed and revived in a way she rarely ever
had. Perhaps the sauna and dip in the stream afterward
accounted for part of that. It certainly wasn't all.
As they left, Henrik stopped and pulled her into his
arms. He didn't kiss her or say anything, just stood, holding
her against his body, her head cradled against his shoulder.
Fianna didn't need words to hear all he tried to tell her of his
gratitude, his joy in her company, his liking, his sadness,
and his regret.
Tears began to form again but she held them back. She
hadn't spent so much time fighting tears since the days
following her mother's disappearance. And now she was
faced with the loss of another she'd grown to care for. She
drew a deep breath. She would have no regrets or sadness
about this. The time with him had been a gift, and so she
would regard it.
He sighed and let her go after a while. Hand in hand,
they made their way back to the village and the hut where
Ranulf lay.
As they neared the place, an uproar of arguing voices,
tinged with some dismay, reached them. Fianna's stomach
clenched as she wondered if Ranulf's condition had taken a
turn for the worse while they were bathing. But surely
someone would have come to tell them, had that been the
case.
They had to push their way through a fair crowd of
people to get to the room that held the patient and was the
source of the disturbance. When they were finally close
enough to see what was happening, she let out a long breath
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of relief.
Ranulf was awake, alert, and feeling sufficiently revived
to want to get up and be about whatever business he
thought needed his attention. Some of the group packed into
the room attempted to keep him down. Others argued that
he should be allowed to rise if he wished. At least, those
were the impressions she got from the tone of the various
interchanges in Norse. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]