After Ubbe departed guilt dealt with Bonnie. She'd led him on. Allowed him to believe they had a future only to later rip away his faith in them by having sex with his brother, and then refusing to depart with him. How could she build something meant to last with Ivar if betrayal supported their foundation? Shame had driven her once again to avoid Ivar. Even Hvitserk, suffered from the side effect of her remorse. Mainly, because she'd psychically forced him to jump ship and remain behind with her. Yet, she still didn't understand why. All she knew was the pain in her chest damn near jerked her to her knees from watching him go. They'd not been parted for any real length of time since meeting and the thought of being without him, hurt worse than her misplacing Sigurd. Why the hell was Hvits so important?
"These quarters could rival many of the halls in Asgard, My Love," Ivar's voice drifted to her from the entryway of the informal parlor she'd taken to decorating.
She craned her neck to peer at him over her shoulder. "You're a king in your own right, Ivar. Elevating your environment to match the upward launch in your station will remind those with simple minds of who you are and where you're going. Besides, this place is disgusting. If I'm staying then I refuse to live in filth in which Wilbur wouldn't even be caught dwelling."
"You're queen to be of this great house. Do with it what you will. You'll not receive any protests from me." He limped further into the room.
Although, their first time wasn't a sizzling fantasy straight from the pages of an erotic romance or even a sloppy porntastic good time, her body and magic still remained aware of him. Clocking his every move as if she were a second hand and he were time itself. Every breath he breathed and beat of his heart which pounded spun her world.
"Queen to be and being queen or two different things, but I accept your offer to remodel this place as I see fit," she said tearing her gaze away from him to refocus her attention on the royal blue roses.
Moments later she felt his solid frame at her back. A fraction of a second after, his palm rested on her hip. "Have you misplaced your faith in me, My Love?"
His breathy whisper shot a thrill down her spine. Minute shudders attacked her frame. Her eyes rolled closed as air moved with great difficulty in and out of her lungs. "No, but I know there'll be pain before there's love and my heart is reluctant."
"I won't be as foolish to promise you a life without pain." His hand slid from her hip to rest on her belly. "Yet, I'll swear upon Odin's name and all things sacred that what I do promise is a love without end. You, My Love, are well aware that you're destined to be my wife," he pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck, "the mother of my babes," his soft lips met the bend of her shoulder, "and the future queen of not only York, but also Kattegat."
That was it! She snatched out of his hold, and then spun to face him. "No, Ivar! That would be the slave girl you saw fit to free." She slapped the remaining flowers she held against his chest. "Goddess! What the hell was I thinking remaining here with you? You will break me and you know what?" He opened his mouth to answer but she didn't give him the chance. "I'll deserve it after the way I hurt Ubbe!"
"I care not for that slave girl!" He growled, while leaning almost all his weight on his cane.
"Yeah?" She cocked her head sideways. "Then why'd you free her?! If you have no feelings for her then why wasn't she sacrificed?" His mouth flapped open and closed, yet words weren't forthcoming. "Humph, that's what the hell I thought!"
When she turned to leave he stopped her departure with a question.
"It burns does it not?" His question left his lips in the same quiet tone that reminded her of his father. She arched a brow in response. "To believe someone other than yourself holds my affection." The implications of his words narrowed her eyes. "I know those flames well. For I found myself trapped within the same blaze every time I was made to watch you lust for another before my sight. Whether it be my witless brothers or some passing foreigner of no note who captured your notice like King Harald's brother. Did you believe I enjoyed being petted with the same familial hugs and caresses you bestowed upon Guthrum, Hali, and even Wilbur?"
Contrition forced her gaze from his. Hadn't she'd given herself the business months ago over her virginal mate treatment of him? Although his words were gospel ready, she still couldn't hurdle over the blind jealousy and fear she felt at losing him to another. Yet knowing she inflicted these same feelings on him countless times only added to her melting pot of emotions.
"I've never held you in the same regard as I hold Guthrum and Hali." She whirled all the way back around to face him. "From the moment I met you my heart has beat in your possession. Others may dwell within its chambers but from beginning to end you'll always be who my heart chooses. Yet this will not always be true for you."
"My Love," He said, reaching out a hand to her.
"No!" She shook her head and backed away from him. "It isn't our time yet…not yet."
Before he had a chance to say anything else to her she raced out of the room. She ran through the halls of the castles in the direction of the secret tunnels which led out of the city. After she cleared the tunnels and emerged in the surrounding forests of York she halted her Olympic sprint. Several yards ahead of her many daughters and sons under her dominion were under attack yet none of them realized the stroke level position of their situation. They were all too taken with the bounty of the day's hunt to grasp armed English soldiers surrounded them and only seconds from firing on them.
"Shit!" She muttered to herself.
There would be consequences for disrupting this scene, but she'd be damned if she let her faithful's die senselessly. She allowed her magic to seep from her pores to seek out those who meant hers harm. When her sorcery held them in a firm grasp, it forced them to turn there bows and swords on their comrades. Cries of terror and shrieks of horror signaled her warriors they weren't alone in the woods. She left the cover of the trees and walked in the clearing to stand next to the wagon piled high with game.
"Supreme!" Sheila, one of the shield maidens, gasped.
"How many times has Ivar told you all to be aware when you venture out of the walls of the city?" She questioned with her eyes trained on the deceptively still forest.
Thomas rushed to her side. "We've remained vigilant, Most High," he bowed and assured at the same time.
She raised a hand to silence him. "Come forth," she directed to the out of sight British soldiers. Her tone borderline pleasant.
A rustle of movement and the crackly crunch of dried leaves sounded before English soldiers feet dragged against the ground as they attempted to fight against the compulsion which bound them to break formation and leave their concealed positions' of power in the forest. All while still aiming their weapons at the other. When her warriors realized their folly, they raised their weapons and moved to form a shield wall.
"Bonnie!" Alfred emerged from the forest with his sword drawn but pointed at the ground. "Are you doing this?"
"Why're you attempting to slaughter my warriors while their backs are presented to you? I thought you English men prided yourselves on being men of honor." Her glare swept over the English soldiers who surrounded them to land upon Alfred, the would be king.
She raised her hands, and the opposing warriors lifted their weapons to aim at the others head. Grunts of distress rippled through the bunch.
"Bonnie, please. These men are under orders," Alfred said, rushing towards her. Two of her warriors grabbed him and shoved him to his knees. Yet, he didn't allow the precariousness of his situation to still his tongue. "Do not allow the error of another to seal the fate of these men. They're blameless."
"And you think the children under my dominion aren't?" Disbelief caused the volume of her voice to soar. "Ubbe came to you all in peace and you damn near beat him within an inch of his life. So tell me, Alfred, how blameless can any of you really be?"
Alfred stared up at her with wide innocent eyes as he shook his head. "I don't condone what happened to the sons of Ragnar while in our care. Were it left for me to determine, I would've honored my grandfather's request to grant your people the lands of East Anglia."
Honor and truth rolled off of him in laudable waves. He was about as close to the Arthurian king as England would get. Her eyes rolled, because though it peeved her, she too believed the hype about king Alfred. Being around him was like being in the presence of greatness in progress.
"Let him stand," she told her warriors who in turn reluctantly let him go. Once Alfred was on his feet she approached to stand toe to toe with him. "Take your soldiers and go. Return with them and next time I'll allow them to finish what they started." She turned to leave and thought better of it. "Oh, and tell Bishop Heahmund, a rising will come when he'll be made to pay for everything he's done, and the price will be a hell of a lot higher than a few self-inflicted slashings to the back or a jog through a grove of thorns."
Alfred watched her for a moment before nodding and turning to direct his men away from the surrounding forests of York. Bonnie released a sigh disguised as an exhale as she watched him go. Ivar was going to flip every bit of his shit when he discovered she'd allowed Alfred to escape. That's all she needed at the moment. More beef to add to their estrangement.
"Was your mission a success, My Son?" Was how Alfred's father greeted him as soon as he entered the camp.
He gave his commander in arms a nod of dismissal before turning back to address his father and Bishop Heahmund who stood next to Ethelred. "No, father. I'm afraid victory was not ours this day."
"Why not?" Ethelred demanded as a slight furrow disturbed the skin between his brow. "The conquest was simple enough. You were able to take them unawares were you not?"
Alfred's gaze swept to Bishop Heahmund who studied him through narrowed eyes. Almost as if he were attempting to read the explanation from his mind instead of waiting for his words to meet his ears.
"Yes, but-," Alfred began.
"Yes, but what?" His father asked, while flapping a hand for him to continue.
He squared his shoulders as he lifted his chin. "Bonnie was there."
Ethelred's chin dropped, allowing his mouth to form a silent, oh. His father's complexion took on varying shades of red as Heahmund's eyes slitted even more while his lips pursed to betray the dedicated focus of his thoughts.
"This is their witch you speak of?" Heahmund questioned, distaste apparent in his soured expression.
"There goddess is whom they believe her to be," his father corrected as he stared off into the distance at nothing.
"Actually, I heard them refer to her as Supreme and Most High," he supplied, not sure why he felt a need to edify his father on Bonnie's precise title to her people.
"It matters not what the pagans believe her to be," Heahmund snapped, once again forgetting himself. "What weapon can a mere girl pose against our army? Especially, when we have God on our side?"
Ethelred and he shared a glance. They'd promise there father they'd never reveal Bonnie as the ally within York who assisted them in fleeing the city when they lost the battle.
"What transpired during your attempt to dispose of the Viking hunting party?" His father asked in a gentle tone purposefully turning his back to Heahmund.
He held his father's gaze for a moment, and then spoke. "We surrounded the warriors just as we plotted beforehand and as we were about to loose our arrows into the party, our soldiers turned their weapons on the other."
"What?" Ethelred questioned as if he'd somehow misheard the exchange.
He nodded to add confirmation to his words. "Then Bonnie emerged from a different part of the forest and beckoned us forward." His wide gaze swung back to his father. "I gave a silent command for them to remain hidden, but they disobeyed. It was as if their will was no longer their own. For they attempted to stay concealed, yet their boots dragged against the earth even as their feet endeavored to remain planted to the ground they stood upon."
"Who are these men in your command who can be so easily manipulated by a whore of the devil?" Bishop Heahmund seethed as he craned his neck to cast a sideways glance over them.
His father squeezed his eyes closed as he mumbled something under his breath. After a moment of a few more silent utterances. He exhaled, and then spoke. "The witch's power over Alfred's men has nothing to do with their lack of faith, Bishop Heahmund. I've heard tales from soldiers who fought with Alle against the heathen army. They say they witnessed this Lilith snatch blue fire from the heavens and fill a man with such fantastical powers that the defeat which met them in the end was swift and brutal."
"And yet the spirit of fear does not corrupt our souls, my King." Heahmund's declaration dripped with condescension and an over indulgence of arrogance. The Bishop then turned his squinted glare on him. "My prince, if this witch has proven to be so formidable, how did you and your men manage to escape?"
"We didn't, she allowed us to seek out our leave. Under strict orders we deliver a message to you of course," he said, eyeing the good Bishop with unfurling suspicion.
"A message!" One of Heahmund's brows shot to his hairline. Astonishment flared his normally squinted gaze. "For me?"
He lifted his chin. "Yes."
"Well, what's the message, then?" His father demanded.
"She wanted me to inform you, a rising will come when you'll be made to pay for everything you've done, and the price will be a hell of a lot higher than a few self-inflicted slashings to the back or a jog through a grove of thorns." He concluded just as his mother came hurrying over.
The color faded from Bishop Heahmund's face as he dipped his head to them in a bow. "Excuse me, my King. It is time for my evening prayers." Without waiting for a dismissal he hurried away.
Heahmund bobbed his head to Judith his mother as he brushed passed her. She pivoted around to observe him go. After a moment of watching she turned back to them as perplexity had its way with her features.
"Is his Grace well?" She questioned, her worried stare flicking over each of them.
"He's well enough Judith," his father said, while offering him a deviant grin. "He's seeing to his evening prayers. He intends to ensure we all have passage into the gates of our father's kingdom. Now, come and let us sup. While we do, we'll discuss different strategies which will allow us to once and for all see the back of these Viking invaders."
Ubbe sat in the seat of honor at the great table between Torvi and Lagertha. His ex-wife Margrethe lingered at his back as she'd always done as a slave, having been displaced from the place at his side by the now queen of Kattegat. He cared not of the petty power plays between the women. His mind dwelled across the seas with the only love to ever consume his heart and his favored brother. They'd given him their back and set him adrift without a care. How could they turn away from him?
"We've heard tales of the sons of Ragnar bravery during the war against the Saxons. Is it true Odin fought at your side?" Lagertha questioned, before taking a sip from her chalice.
His head bobbed. "Yes, you heard the truth of it. He came to make Bonnie an offering and to receive her favor. For fighting at her side, she bestowed upon him great power," he said, still remembering how breathtaking she looked covered in the blood of their enemies. His prick twitched in his pants. Damn her!
"Oh how I miss Bonnie," Torvi gushed as she leaned into him donning a smile which lit up her entire face. "Was she well the last time you sighted her…before she sailed for the Mediterranean with Bjorn?"
"Yes, Bonnie was more than well the last time my gaze fell upon her. In verity, she thrived." Guilt forced his eyes away from Torvi's as he cleared his throat. "Though she did not sail for the Mediterranean with Bjorn."
"What?" Lagertha came upright in her seat.
Torvi's serene features took a distressed turn. "Whyever not, Bonnie vowed to remain at Bjorn's side."
"Ivar wanted to continue waging war on England even after Bjorn decided to sail to meet his fate. He knew he'd never be successful at such an endeavor without Bonnie. So," Ubbe allowed his voice to trail off as he took a drawn out gulp from his chalice.
"Well?" Lagertha demanded.
He exhaled a sigh. "Ivar convinced Hvitserk and I to assist him in stealing Bonnie away from Bjorn. After enlisting Floki in on our schemes, he provided us with a root that temporarily subdued her magic and mind. Once we had her restrained, we were able to deceive Bjorn and Sigurd into believing Bonnie sailed for the Mediterranean on a different ship."
"I don't understand." The skin between Torvi's brow wrinkled. "Why would Bjorn believe such a tale to be true? Bonnie would never allow Bjorn to travel outside her protection."
"Because of the conflict present between the two of them before his departure," Ubbe said as he placed the chalice back on the table. He pondered if they had anything stronger than mead.
"What conflict dwelled between my son and the Supreme?" Lagertha said settling back in her seat to eye him with the look which made him believe she could see every thought present in his head.
He lifted a shoulder as he cradled his chalice in his palms. "Bonnie wanted to journey back to Kattegat before sailing to the Mediterranean. He assured her they would, but then she overheard him tell King Harald he had no intention of returning to Kattegat."
"Oh," Torvi uttered, settling back into her seat as she stared off into the distance.
"So Bonnie still remains with Ivar?" the dark haired young warrior sitting next to Torvi questioned.
The way the younger warrior spoke Bonnie's name with such familiarity graveled his senses. His hand flew to the handle of his eating dagger. "Who are you to speak her name with such intimate reverence?"
The warriors face remained detached and indifferent while Torvi glared at him as if his mind had taken leave of him. "Ubbe, did you part ways with your wits when you departed from England? How dare you speak to Guthrum in such a way? You know his affections for Bonnie are as great as anyone here."
"G-Guthrum?" Ubbe sat up in his seat, all while blinking his eyes to clear his vision. When last he saw the boy, he'd been nothing more than a child who barely crested his waist. Now he nearly matched him in height. "Your eldest boy?"
Lagertha laughed. "Yes, Guthrum has since become a man since you all journeyed from here to avenge your father."
"Does Ivar still hold her against her will? Is this the reason why she didn't accompany you back to Kattegat?" Guthrum demanded, the intensity of his glare almost too much to bear.
"No." His jaw clenched at the reason for Bonnie remaining behind. "Bonnie considers herself in love with Ivar. She was content in her resolve to remain at his side."
"What, now?" Lagertha's face scrunched as she angled her head to the side to present him with her ear.
Torvi and Margrethe gasped, while Guthrum simply studied him. His expression unchanged.
"Ivar and Bonnie are now lovers." He took another unsatisfied sip from his chalice. "Boneless has claimed her heart, innocence, and in turn her alliance. She'll never stand against him. When he's finished subduing England he'll come for Kattegat," he raised a glass to his mother's murderer, "and your head along with it."
Lagertha gaze turned calculating. "Then you and I should search to make the other stronger."
"And how would we go about that?" He questioned flicking a semi-interested stare over her face.
"Hmph." She held up a golden tankard. "More mead?"
Sigurd stood at the port in another Mediterranean city staring across the sea in the direction he felt his greatest pull. The hollow emptiness which pained him incessantly without the benefit of relief drove him to a similar spot in every port they visited no matter the city. For years since he'd last gazed upon the meaning of his life, he'd been adrift. Fighting, fucking, killing, plundering, and searching for something or someone to fill the Bonnie sized hole his brothers had left behind when they'd ripped her away from him. If he'd known what continued life on Midgard had for him, it would've gladdened him to have met the sharpened end of Ivar's ax.
"Sigurd!" Bjorn called from behind him. A heavy handed blowed pounded him on the back. "There you are! Why have you abandoned the feast, hmm? Those sisters are bereft of your treatment of them. Even Halfdan and my attention's aren't enough to console them. They insist upon concluding the evening with you."
His eyes rolled. He had no care for the matching whores to which his brother referred. Even combined they couldn't satisfy what it was he truly craved. "What do you believe she's doing at this moment?"
"Who?" The one word question fell from his brother's mouth flat.
He closed his eyes and exhaled. "You know well of who I speak, Brother. The woman you're keen on pretending not to remember. The woman who plagues us no matter how many new moons makes our acquaintance."
"She's loss to us, Sigurd, and the better we both are for it," He said in the same strained tone he spoke in whenever the topic of conversation was Bonnie. "Besides, I no longer harbor the same affections I once did for her."
He dismissed Bjorn's nonsensical declaration with yet another roll of the eyes. "We should've went back for her when we discovered Ivar, Hvitserk, and Ubbe's deception."
"No, she never would've been happy here," he answered in a quiet voice. "Fate chose well when she decided to tear Bonnie from my side. In verity, it is my intent when I sight her next to release her from our vow. We were never fated for the other. This I see now as plain as I see you. I'll no longer keep her chained to me hoping she'd one day think well enough of me to join me in matrimony." Scorn twisted his face as he slapped his chest. "I'm Bjorn Ironside. My name rivals that of my father's. When I decide to marry again the woman I choose to take as a bride will be overjoyed to have me as a husband. She'll not allow such things as vanity and pride to separate us."
The muscle in Sigurd's jaw flexed as his gaze returned to the sea. "I think it wise you've decided to release Bonnie from the vow you both swore to each other. By now she would've given part of herself to Boneless while withholding the other part for you in anticipation of your return. As long as she's beholden to your vow, she'll remain divided between you and Ivar."
"Why do you believe she's given herself to Ivar?" The quietness of his brother's tone provoked him to once again cast his gaze upon him. "You've said yourself Ivar's not a man capable of pleasing a woman."
Bjorn stood a couple of paces from him staring out into the same direction he'd been. It was the path which would lead them back to Bonnie. "And yet Bonnie is so much more than a mere woman is she not?"
His eldest brother didn't respond. In verity, for several long moments he remained silent until he released a sigh. "Then I wish them both wellness and happiness. Perhaps they'll be able to settle each other in ways many others have never been able to achieve."
"Perhaps," Sigurd said before returning his gaze to the sea. "Or perhaps he'll remain the selfish boneless prick he's always been and squander the most sacred gift fate has ever bestowed upon anyone."
"It matters not. Our destiny is no longer tied to those who dwell across the seas," Bjorn said, squaring his shoulders, and then turning to glance at him. "It is here, in these new lands where we've shared many adventures. And still there are many more we've yet to undertake. Let us not burden our journeys with the lives of those who now lingers in our past, Sigurd." He clapped him on the shoulder. "Come, we wouldn't want our hosts to ponder unkind things of us."
A soft thump and shift on her mattress jarred Bonnie from a dead like slumber. Her sorcery surged to alertness before her mind. Electrical pulses pricked her fingertips for release until the hit of wild potent untapped energy wrapped about her senses. Ivar. She forced her lids open and came eye to methane flames with the man who'd plague her for the rest of her eternal existence.
"What's wrong?" She asked moving to sit up in bed. "Have the Saxons breached the gates of the city?"
He palmed her cheek. "No, My Love. Our defenses still hold. Yet, had you not allowed Prince Alfred to escape, our position would be that much stronger."
"We've already discussed this, Ivar," she said, dropping back down on her pillow.
Just thinking about there earlier blowout exhausted her. When Ivar heard she'd permitted Alfred and his men to go free after their assassination attempt, he pitched a fit to honor every cracked pot in Bedlams. If not for the affections he carried for her there was no doubt in her mind that he'd have had her burned alive.
"Yes, we have. Yet, I still don't understand why you'd make a vow to the man responsible for my father's murder," he said, unbuckling his trousers. "Why would you vow to keep this man's kin safe?"
Anger began to peek through the mild annoyance which already marred his near perfect features. She reached up to smooth away the frown lines of his forehead. "Because he not only chose to keep you safe when you and Ragnar was at his mercy, but he also saw fit to send you back to me. That is why I gave Ecbert my vow."
He studied her for a moment, before the tension in his face relaxed. "When we were together…when we coupled. You didn't find as much pleasure in our joining as I did."
Her gaze dropped to her bed furs. "No, but sometimes that's how it is for women who're virgins. The first time is often more painful…and because you're so…um," she held her hands up to measure the length of his manhood with her fingers. "well endowed, there was quite a bit of discomfort." His face crumpled and she moved to cradle his cheeks in her hands. "But in time the discomfort will lessen, and I'll be right there feeling all of those sensations same as you."
"You say these things to ease my pride. Yet I know I'm ignorant when it comes to pleasuring a woman." He turned his face into her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm.
"W-With good reason." Her breath caught, and the burning ache only he stoked flared to life at the very center of her thighs. "I'm the only woman you've lain with, babe. I didn't expect you to know where my switches and buttons were located as soon as you stripped me bare."
"Yet your switches and buttons are what I want to be aware of most." He lifted his hips and shimmied out of his trousers.
Once he lay naked next to her vulnerability lay claim to his features. An intense burn raged throughout her body as love overfilled her heart near bursting. He disturbed every piece and part of her. Her mind, body, sorcery, and spirit. The wasn't one level on which he didn't affect her.
"I'm already tethered to the strings you pull. If I allow you access to everything else, you'll have control over me in a way no one ever has and there's nothing which scares me more than losing myself to you," she whispered her fears to him, so he'd understand he wasn't the only vulnerable one in the room. "You're gonna break me."
"I only wish to love you," he whispered back as his hand disappeared under the bed furs. Tentative fingers crept up her thighs, not stopping until his index and middle fingers were nestled between her southern lips. A gasp burst from her mouth when a calloused digit brushed against her clit. Wonderment lit his scrutinizing eyes as they scoured her face. "Teach me how to please you, My Love. Show me how you want to be worshiped."
"Ivar," She covered his hand with hers and gazed into his supernaturally blue stare. "Would you still love me if I wasn't the Supreme of supernature, if I didn't have any mystical energy to brag of, and I was nothing more than another foreign slave to cross the shores of Kattegat?"
He maneuvered himself so he hoovered over her. "My Love, I would still place value upon your heart even if the beauty you possessed couldn't be beheld by the eye. Though I am ever faithful to you as my Supreme, your place in the supernatural procession could alter this rising and I'd still select you to journey at my side from this life to the next."
"Why?"
"Because you never saw a cripple when you gazed upon me. You saw and cared for me as the man I was always meant to be," His free hand rose to palm her cheek.
"No, babe," she shook her head as she used her free hand to cup the nape of his neck. "Not who you were meant to be, but who you were then and who you are now. My beautiful, stubborn, quick witted, prideful, caring and thoughtful mate. You're the love of my existence. Lifetimes come and go. What we have is always."
"And you dare worry over me harboring affections for that insignificant slave girl," the calloused pad of his finger slid over her clit once more. Her eyes rolled backwards as a moan damn near strangled her. "How can I ever care for another when all my heart feels is you?"
Those words opened her better than any custom made key could. She spread her legs wide, and then guided his fingers through the slickness nestled at the apex of her thighs. In strict detail she introduced him to every creese, crevice, nub, and slitted opening of her sex. Once familiar with the lay out of her womanhood, his digits began to explore. For the first several minutes she directed him to the hair triggers that stoked the pounding throb which was going to take more than a curious finger to reach. She groaned, nearly breathless from the overwhelming need to bust all over his hand.
Without being instructed he slipped his middle finger inside of her. Immediately, her walls began contracting as if it were attempting to suck a super thick milkshake from a super skinny liquor straw. He pushed in and pulled out to test the resistance of her good-good. When he discovered there was no give, he leaned forward to plunder her mouth with tongue plunging kisses. Moans and grunts vibrated against the press of their lips. Her nipples tightened and strained against her nightie while his fingers, crooked, swirled, thrust, and stroked her to borderline insanity. She'd fucked around and created a monster who would no doubt be her undoing.
"Oh, fuck, Ivar! Oh, babe…oh babe!" She stammered as she lifted her hips from the bed to throw her pussy back at his hand. Her end danced so near, she could feel the unfurling blossom of an orgasm flirting without shame at the base of her abdomen and the top of her mons. She dug her nails in his wrist, while trying to force his finger to graze the spot within her that would shove her over the edge, but he refused to give in to her silent demands. So verbal it was. "Sweetheart, I need you to take care of me." She rocked her hips harder into his palm, purposefully knocking her clit into the heel of his hand. "If you wanna please me, then you have to release me."
"You're breathtaking like this, My Love," he murmured as he slipped another finger in her, and then tossed the bed furs from her body. "Even if I succeeded in sustaining you here upon the precipice for an eternity, it still wouldn't be long enough to marvel over the wonder fate has seen fit to bestow upon me."
Bonnie's vision blurred. Oh goddess he was talking crazy! He had to finish her off or she'd melt from the inside out. She broke free of his hand and straddled his stomach in a reverse cowgirl move. Without giving him a chance to anticipate what she had planned next, she gripped his man stand with both hands in a firm hold, right before opening her mouth and taking him to the back of her throat. The screeching moan he released nearly brought the castle down on them brick by brick. She slow grinded into his rock solid abs, while she attempted to swallow every last ten of his swollen leaky inches. Once she managed to take him all down, she began to hum Destiny's Child Cater to You and damn near suffocated when two fingers slid back inside of her.
A heavy handed smack that came Christian hell close to sparking flames landed on her left ass cheek. "I'm nigh to exploding. Mount me, Witch!" The hell?! Just who the hell was he talking to? Another steroid inspired slap landed on her right ass cheek. "Now!"
In a move too swift and smooth for even the original family she withdrew his dick from her throat. And damn if she couldn't be part of a circus act because his boneless ass had dick for enough days to make a full year. She might as well have been pulling a foot long sword from her mouth. Without delay, she twisted and moaned until his entire length disappeared within her walls. When it felt as if he'd attempt to fuck her from the bottom again, she rocked back and then forth. Ivar went completely still as if someone had shoved ice up his rear.
"W-What a-are you doing?" He panted, while staring up at her with wide innocent eyes.
Her eyes rolled closed. A laugh tumbled from her lips as she bounced up and down on him. "I'm popping this thang like it's got switches." He grabbed her hips and held her down while rolling upwards in to her. At the new angle, he hit the spot she'd needed tapped since she'd bust the Viking Era wide. "Ooh, babe! Just like this! Just like this, babe!"
In a sensual swirling grind their bodies shifted and stirred as one. He sat up in an upright position and wrapped his arms around her as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. She did the same, wrapping her arms and legs about him. Sweat drenched her from scalp to ass crack. Clumps of her hair lay plastered to the sides of her face and forehead. The scent of their sex hung heavy in the air. Wailing moans and growling groans gave their lovemaking a soundtrack the occupants of the castle wouldn't soon forget. Neither knew where the other ended nor where the other began. They were trapped in each other in what felt like a perpetual bliss. Yet, they both sensed the beginning of a glorious end. Moments later the damn broke and they filled and flooded each other with the hard earned spoils of their conquests.
Untapped sorcery surged through Bonnie. It over stimulated her already stimulated pleasure receptors and incited more endorphins to flood her over concentrated system. She squirmed, shook, and seized through the most hellified orgasm she'd ever experienced. While Ivar appeared to be worse off than her. He'd dropped back onto the bed and she could only see the white parts of his eyes. As he shook and drooled his way through his own release. She fell forward and rested her head on his twitching chest. The last thought that danced across her mind before she gave herself over to sleep was, they had to do it over and over again until they became use to the effects.