Viking’s Claim (Kilts & Kisses 4)
I stand, and when I grab a length of rope from a hook on one of my tent poles, Rhona’s eyes go wide. Her jaw drops as I throw a loop of the rope over a cross-post near the ceiling, pulling it through before I move onto the bed again. I grab her, and she moans as I sit her up, turning her around and putting her on her knees with those legs of her spread. She moans when the rope loops around her wrists, binding her arms together behind her. And when I tighten it, pulling the loose end back through the cross beam near the ceiling and making it tight, she gasps. Her body shivers, little goosebumps breaking out across her arms, and I groan as I move in behind her.
My lips brush her neck, and when they do, Rhona pushes back into me, moaning eagerly as my teeth rake across her delicate skin. I suck and bite, kissing her skin hard enough to bruise as my hands skim up her sides.
She hears the blade slide out of the scabbard at my belt, and when the big knife flashes in her peripheral vision in the candlelight, she stiffens, panting.
“I told you once, I’d never hurt you. And I never will, little one,” I growl, bringing the blade up to trace over the front of her dress.
“But you can be sure that I’ve seen the last of this dress—the one you were to wear to become another man’s.” I spit the last words out, shuddering with anger at the idea of someone else taking her from me. The blade slips under the top-most still intact button near her collarbone, and with one flick of my wrist, it slits it open. Rhona gasps, trembling and panting as my blade traces lower, slicing another tie. And then another, and another—moving lower to find more of them keeping that dress on her.
More and more of her dress loosens, falling away, and when it slips from her breasts to tumble open, I groan as I move in right behind her. I kiss her neck from behind, gazing down over her shoulder at the soft, smooth slope of her breasts and the puffy pink nipples capping them. The dull side of my blade teases over the skin of her belly, making her whimper as it traces over it. Her skin prickles, her nipples hardening to points as I bring it down and slice easily through more of the ties, down to the ruffled waist of the wedding gown. The blade pushes under, near her hip and that little crease of her thigh. Rhona gasps, her breath catching sharply as the blade tightens against the dress.
And then, with a flick of my wrist, it slices through, and in moments, I’ve cut her dress away completely.
Fire roars through me as I yank the shreds of it off of her, throwing it away before I let my eyes feast upon her.
Gods is she gorgeous. Soft, milky skin. Curves that make my hands ache to hold them. A full, round little ass that I know damn well I’ll be sinking my teeth into. Thighs that beg to be spread around my waist. Her auburn hair tumbles down her back, and when my hands slide over her hip and she whimpers, there goes the last of my control.
I yank my tunic off, tossing it away before pressing myself to her from behind. Her skin is warm against mine, her body trembling as my arms slide around her. My hands almost touch when they cinch around her waist, and when I push them lower over her hips, Rhona gasps, moaning as she rolls them into my touch. My fingers slip over the creases in her thighs, pushing lower and lower until I can feel the heat of her little cunt millimeters from my fingertips. And then, with one second of a hesitation, I push a hand lower, delving it between her thighs and cupping her hot little pussy.
Rhona moans.
“So wet,” I growl into her ear, stroking a finger through her lips, spreading her wide.
“Such a pretty, tight little cunt.”
My words rasp into her ear, and she shivers, trembling against me and gasping in pleasure as I drag a thick finger through her dewy lips. I roll my fingertip over her hard-little bud, making her squeal in pleasure as she sags against me. Her body undulates, tightening, her arms still bound as she strains against the ropes in pleasure. My fingers stroke faster, adding pressure to her clit as I begin to roll them in circles over the little nub. Her hips roll in time against me, her moans of pleasure filling my ears in the dim, flickering candlelight of the tent.
I could keep doing this all night, just making her come again and again on my fingers until she’s begging for mercy. But then, my tongue is hungry for what I’ve only had a taste of.