Sitting in Rollo's bed without a piece of clothing on her body should have made Edithe feel vulnerable. But that wasn't why her heart raced or why goosebumps prickled along her skin. She couldn't even blame it on the flower Rollo danced over her skin as he crouched beside her. So delicate, only the whisper of a touch.
What if she enjoyed being with him?
What if he took her in his arms and she never wanted to leave?
He wasn't some faceless man claiming her body for his own. He was Rollo and she knew him intimately. His favorite stories, his laughter, the lines on his face. She wasn't stupid enough to think that this moment would mean nothing to her. On the contrary, she was afraid it would mean everything.
When she was alone, it was so much easier to plan how she should think and feel. Her loyalty was never in question then as it was now, his eyes melting onto her skin. Her mind forgetting she'd ever made any plans which didn't involve losing herself in this exact moment.
"You're trembling," he said, taking her hand and brushing his thumb over her knuckles.
"I'm nervous." She could at least admit that truth, though it wasn't for the reasons he might have imagined.
"Don't you trust me, Edithe?"
"Yes." And the truth of her answer was one of the things which frightened her most of all.
He smiled, tilting her chin so he could find her lips. A simple kiss seemed so innocent to her now, and she enjoyed the tenderness of it. His tongue sweetened by the bridal ale, his hands never straying beneath the bedcover. Just a kiss. Not rushed or forced but given with affection. Perhaps even given with love and what a terrifying word that was. So perhaps a simple kiss was not so innocent after all.
When it was over, she pressed her fingers to her lips as if she could wipe all emotion from them but it was no use. Her feelings didn't rest superficially on her skin. They rushed through her veins and danced with the butterflies in her stomach. She could no sooner remove them than she could carve out her soul and offer it as penance to God.
"Would you like more ale?" he asked, standing and moving to pick up the jug-
"No!" she said suddenly, stopping him in his tracks and perhaps he sensed the urgency which gripped her. She didn't want to eat or drink or talk and she wouldn't say she wanted this night to be over either. She didn't think so little of Rollo to want that. She simply wanted it to happen, to be in the middle of things so she wouldn't have to think about them.
He laughed- nervously but his trepidation was nothing compared to her own so she hardly noticed it. Hardly noticed anything at all until he was standing beside the bed and removing his tunic, throwing it aside like he'd done countless times before.
This was it, she thought and her hands tightened against the furs, though she supposed the time for modesty was quickly diminishing.
Usually, she would force herself to stop from staring but why bother? He was her husband now and merely looking upon him seemed like the least of her concerns. So she indulged her eyes, drinking in his lean, tanned skin and the flex of muscles under tattoos and faded battle scars. Soon her hands would be upon him, touching him in a way she had never touched any man and the very thought made her stomach tighten.
Moving to unfasten his belt, her eyes followed, well aware of the way he was watching her. As if it was her reaction which was on display rather than his nudity and perhaps it was. Rollo didn't hesitate as he pulled the leather through its loops nor did he hesitate as he unbound the laces on his trousers, revealing just a hint of dark curls.
Briefly, she wondered if his heart was hammering like hers, but not enough to stay anything and certainly not enough to draw her attention to his face. She was far too entranced for that; lips agape and her breath caught in her throat as he slowly eased his trousers down. Uncovering the deep v of his hips and what stood proudly between them.
Smooth and rigid. So much bigger than she'd remembered. But she hadn't been preparing to take it inside her when she saw it last. Suddenly her throat was dry, yet a rush of warmth soaked between her thighs. Her body, it seemed, knew exactly what it wanted even if her mind was still unsure.
"Do you like what you see, wife?" he said and reluctantly she met his stare, already knowing the smile which would be creasing into his cheeks. And there it was.
She wanted to bury herself under the blankets with shame. Why did he ask such questions? Why did he force her to face the truth when she would rather push it from her mind?
"You know I will not answer you," she said weakly and his eyes darkened, his hand gripping the base of his long length.
"I intend to change your mind," he promised. "By the end of the night, you will tell me what I want to hear."
Usually, such arrogance would have provoked her but it was only anticipation which pulsed in her core as he moved closer.
"You will beg for me, Edithe."
Was it a challenge?
She met his stare, her nipples budding tightly against the fur. He hadn't even touched her. Yet the words he wanted to hear already rested languidly on the tip of her tongue- where she intended to keep them.
Admitting her desires out loud would be too much. Wasn't it enough for her traitorous body to submit to his every whim?
Squeezing her thighs together she watched his hand slowly stroke along his length until his thumb rubbed over the end, fluid glistening, dripping. Urges which had always been called sinful were suddenly gripping every muscle in her body and when he stopped his movements, his hand unclasping, she had to bite back the whimper which pressed against her lips.
"Will you let me see you, Edithe?" he asked, startling her, reminding her she was not here to simply watch him.
Glancing at him, she wondered what he would do if she refused. Would he leave?
Deep down she knew the answer. Knew the power she held in this room. Yet she said nothing and one by one, her fingers uncurled from the fur, letting it slump to her waist.
There was a strange freedom in uncovering herself and, standing from the bed, was more liberating than she might have imagined. Her toes sinking into the straw underfoot, the heat of the candles burning on her bare flesh and the light, shielding nothing from his eyes.
Nowhere to hide and nothing, she realised, to hide from. Only Rollo.
Like Adam and Eve, they were laid bare before God and in truth, a small part of her delighted in the way his gaze drifted over her skin. First settling on her breasts, then moving, lower and lower, until he circled behind to see the rest. When his fingers grazed her spine, she gasped, shocked to feel the warmth of his touch without the barrier of clothes and decency.
"You're just as I imagined," he whispered, his hands sliding onto her hips, drawing her to him. She couldn't see his face, but she could feel all of him, hard against soft, rough palms over sensitive skin.
"So beautiful," he praised, his lips pressing into the curve of her neck while his fingers seemed to be everywhere all at once. Cradling her breasts, tickling against her stomach, reaching between her thighs. Exploring, spreading, stroking...
"Oh," she jumped, overwhelmed by the sensation which jolted from the press of his fingertip to somewhere deep inside.
"You've never pleasured yourself?" he asked, not quite surprised but definitely pleased.
"It is against God!"
Turning her to face him, a devilish smile filled his cheeks as he touched her there again. His finger gliding easily in her arousal, erupting the same sweet sensation as before.
"What God would not want you to feel this way?" he crooned, catching her when she swayed, but his question was lost in a fog of pleasure and her answer was nothing more than a dreamy sigh which he stole with a deep kiss.
How could one touch cause her whole body to tingle? Yet it did, right down to her toes, even the hairs on the back of her neck stood to attention. Every brush of his finger stoking a fire which licked across her skin, melting her like a pool of wax until she could barely keep herself upright. So, when he picked her up, she welcomed it. Feeling flimsy in his arms, wanting him to do with her as he pleased.
In two strides, he carried her to the bed, laying her across the mattress. His hips rocking against hers as he fell between her open legs, the pressure not as intense as his fingers but deliriously pleasant just the same. With every thrust, she could feel him sliding against her opening, pressing to be inside and, for a moment of insanity, she welcomed it. Her body moving to meet his, wanting him to satiate the deep pull of need building within her.
But he did not take what she offered. Instead, his kisses abandoned her mouth to trail a dizzying path to her breasts and he groaned almost painfully when he kissed her there. His tongue worshipping her, circling and flicking her nipples while she writhed wantonly beneath him.
"Do you want me now, wife?" he asked as he moved lower, his tongue snaking along her stomach, dipping into her belly button.
She dared not answer and even if she wanted to, he gave her no time before his head was between her legs, his beard soft against her inner thighs. Not long ago she would have been appalled by the idea of spreading her legs to him in such a manner. But tonight she did it eagerly and, when he pressed a single kiss against her mound, she felt like she might burst right out of her skin. Arching off the mattress to chase his lips as he stole them away.
Panting, she opened her eyes to see him kneeling at the end of the bed, and lust urged her to ask why he'd stopped, But it was Rollo who said, "tell me you want this."
Night after night she'd wondered if he would force himself upon her and now he didn't just ask for her permission, he demanded her desire. It was the ultimate act of surrender and they both knew it.
"Please," she begged, pitifully and he chuckled, finding pleasure in her torment.
"Just say the words."
She dug her fingers into the mattress, desperate to cling onto some semblance of the girl she was this morning. But at some point between saying her vows and right now, she'd crossed the line between how she wanted to act and how she wanted to feel, and there was no turning back.
"I will not have you if you don't want me. So, tell me, woman," his hands smoothed across her legs, his voice neither demanding not pleading with her. But his eyes told a different story, there she could see the same want she felt itching against every frayed nerve ending. But there was also uncertainty, a thing she'd never seen on his face before now. "Tell me you want me."
"I want you," she relented, surprised by the sound of her own voice. So needy. So breathless. So sincere. Right now, she wanted Rollo more than she'd ever wanted anything in her entire life and she'd rather die than stop this. If she was going to hell, she would go there gladly.
Even Rollo seemed surprised by her admission. No doubt he'd expected her to hold onto her virtue until the last moment but he'd given her far too much credit. Curiosity always got the better of her and she needed to know what happened when she reached the peak she was so eager to climb.
"Praise the God's," he sighed happily, a satisfied smirk curling across his lips and she knew she would regret this weakness but not enough to fight it. Not enough to care.
Grasping her hips, he shifted her down the bed until her legs straddled his shoulders and his kisses resumed on her thighs. Teasing her into more desperation, making her body arch and beg. She didn't know what she wanted, only that she wanted more and then his tongue sank, unexpectedly, between her folds. So hot and wet, so smooth, so… yes. The feeling bordering on unbearable and exquisite.
"Rollo," she cried out, her hands burying into his hair to push him away, yet lacking the strength to follow through as he lapped against her in long strokes. Her core tightening, her body tensing.
"Breathe," he commanded and she did, forcing her muscles to unwind, allowing the tingles to bring her, closer and closer, to the edge of some unknown cliff face. The closer she got, the faster he went until finally, she was free falling, pressure giving out and consuming her with Rollo's name gasping reverently from her lips.
When she came back to her senses Rollo was still between her thighs, watching her with a smile. "The whole of Kattegat will have heard you," he grinned.
Edithe was far too relaxed for embarrassment and she was fairly certain that wasn't his intention anyway.
"I wish the whole world could hear how you sound when you're moaning my name," he added, laying on the bed beside her and wrapping her in his arms. His fingers deliriously light as they stroked her skin.
She sighed, nuzzling her face closer to Rollo's chest. Feeling so peaceful as she listened to his heart beating while her finger traced the ridge of a scar on his hip. She'd often thought of him as a barbarian, ruled by his urges, but now she had a newfound appreciation of his willpower. Spending night after night, lying by her side, controlling his desires while she'd given into hers with barely a single touch.
Moving her hand to comb through the soft hairs on his chest, she could sense him holding his breath and tilted her head to meet his stare. Already she was craving the feeling again. Would it always be like this now?
As if he could read her mind, his hand inched downwards. Dipping into her wetness before brushing over her swollen bud. Her body was already overwrought and the build happened faster, almost too fast. She wanted to enjoy it for longer. But before she could tell him to slow down she was once more falling into the abyss while Rollo stole her moans with his kisses. The taste of her scent on his tongue, sweet, tangy and intensely intimate.
Now she was featherlight in his arms and Rollo was no longer content to simply touch her. He wanted all of her.
"By the Gods, Edithe," he moaned, his voice strangled as his finger teased her open and sank inside. "I cannot wait another moment to have you."
Even with aftershocks still pulsing over her body, already she was greedy for more and when he removed his finger she whimpered.
"Now your body will make mine feel as good as I have made yours," he said, rolling on top of her, kissing her deeply.
Reaching between them, he pumped his hand along his shaft and positioned himself, carefully against her opening. Edithe tensed, her fingers gripping tightly on his arms. This act would join them together irrevocably and even the fog of lust couldn't stop her from feeling uncertainty.
"Relax," he urged, entering her slowly, deliberately, as far as he could go until he was pressing against her maidenhead. Then he kissed her as he pushed further and her body yielded to his.
"Edithe," he said, breathlessly, holding himself still as he allowed her to adjust to his size.
Was this really happening? There was definitely no going back now. They were joined as one, and it felt sore and full to have him inside her. But not unpleasant, not unpleasant at all.
Her fingers loosened their grip on his arms, brushing over his shoulders and along his neck to bury in the hair at the back of his head. She pulled him closer, their lips meeting in soft, closed mouth kisses. "Be gentle with me," she whispered, looking into his eyes and finding so much more than reassurance.
"I will," he promised, his voice strained, his forehead pressing to hers.
Slowly, he moved against her, drawing out and softly grunting as he filled her over and over. It felt too strange to relax into his rhythm, the sting of her lost virginity and the feeling of his body stretching hers was overwhelming. He was taking her and she was letting him.
"Look at me," he said and watching his pleasure, rekindled her own. Her body began to move with his, meeting his thrusts. The familiar tingle licking across her skin.
Soon, gentleness seemed to become a forgotten promise as his pace quickened, Edithe's moans encouraging him for more. Angling her hips to feel him deeper, hitting a place inside which made her toes curl and her legs shake.
"Come for me, Edithe," he pleaded, his movements unrelenting, his breathing ragged. Holding his climax while she chased hers.
Running, diving, falling headfirst into another mindless high with Rollo close behind.
His thrusts becoming uncoordinated, his body tensing, squeezing her tightly as he finally found release. The warmth of his seed pumping into her, the relief in his voice booming across the room.
Afterwards, he settled on top of her with a satisfied sigh and she held him, her fingers brushing absentmindedly over his shoulder blades. For most of her life, she'd been taught to guard her maidenhead as a sacred thing. Now it was gone and she mourned it somewhat.
"Next time will be even better," he said, rolling from on top of her and drawing her into the crook of his arm, her skin plastered to his. "I will not be so desperate and you will not be so delicate."
"Next time?"
"Yes, Christian girl, I don't know what your God tells you about husbands and wives but there will be a next time and a time after that and again and again." She could hear the smile in his voice, feel the warmth of his hand, grasping her leg to entangle it with his.
Of course, there would be next time and many more before she made it home to Northumbria. Stupidly, she hadn't thought much past this night. But now, with the proof of their union dripping down her thigh, she couldn't help but think of his sword plunging into the rafter after their vows. Or of the fertility rituals she'd endured in the bathhouse.
"You should get some sleep, sweet wife-" he said, kissing the top of her head "-before I cannot resist having you again."
But that night she hardly slept. A hundred different thoughts consumed her while Rollo's arms possessed her.
