Vanquishing the Viking (Curvy for Keeps Book 7) Page 6

  “Then take me again,” comes the whisper from my Wendra. “Vanquish me, you filthy Viking.”

  She blushes and I laugh, her playful words filling me with a joy that is the manifestation of a love so profound it threatens to overwhelm. I laugh again as she looks up from the floor. She sits cross-legged and naked, her bush dark and beautiful, her scent raw and heavy. I pinch her hanging breasts and kiss her full on the mouth, and now my smile goes stiff and her giggles are gone and I feel our arousal rising up like dark smoke on a moonless night. My cock throbs and drips, and I suck her nipples and then push her down on her back.

  “Turn,” I say, grasping her hips and turning her. I raise her rump and stare at her magnificent globes. Slowly I spread those cheeks and look upon her dark rear hole. It shines like the moon, and I lick my lips and spit on it. She gasps and I grin, bringing my face close and licking her rim until her buttocks shudder. My arousal rises even more, and I pull back and spank her shivering buttocks hard and swift, twice on each cheek with the flat of my hand. She yelps and turns her head sideways, her eyes wide, mouth open. I grin and rub her reddening rear, then I smack her again and once again.

  She screams and tries to kick at me, but I push her legs back and then jam my face down between her cheeks. At the same time I slide three fingers up her cunt from below, and suddenly she goes still as I lick her rear hole and finger her furiously.

  She squirts all over my hand like a hot-spring, and I roar with delight and then rise to my knees. My cocks slaps down against her rear crease, and I spread her cheeks and press against her pucker. She gasps and hunches over, raising her rear for me. With three fingers still in her sex, I push myself into her arse. Her tight pucker resists at first but then opens for me, and she groans and whimpers as I slide into her, my shaft spreading her clean, shiny rear canal wide open as I sail my longship into her creek.

  Wendra shrieks and thrashes, and the motion brings me to explode with a suddenness that makes me shout and slam my palms down on her arse and push in as I fill her. My balls tighten as my chest expands. My arms flex and my buttocks clench. Again I pump my seed into Wendra, and when I see her overflow from her slit and her arse like she pays tribute to my power, I roar and shout and finally collapse upon her like I just won the prize of a lifetime, the battle of forever.

  We lie together with the peace of forever, the silence of death, the quiet of eternity. Then she shifts under me and groans. I kiss her neck and chew on her thick hair. She giggles and moves her head to the side. Her big brown eyes are moist and bloodshot, wild with the madness of the night. I feel her breathe heavy, and I roll off her and pull her against my body. She burrows into me and then glares up at my face.

  “So the rumors about what the Vikings do to women are true,” she whispers, her eyes shining with mischief even as her cheeks bloom red and bashful.

  I grunt and then grin. “Viking men are wanderers, seekers, conquerors. We lust for the uncharted territory, squeeze our longships through the narrowest of passages, seek the most elusive of entrances.”

  “By the goddess, the filth runs in your words just like it does in your blood,” she says, smacking my arm and resting her smiling face against my chest. “I fear for the monstrous child our union will beget.”

  “If the child is monstrous, I will eat it and we shall have another,” I say, kissing her hair gently and grinning as she smacks me again, this time harder. “What?” I say through a chuckle. “Is that not a rumor about Viking men? That we eat babies because it makes our hair grow thick and long?”

  Wendra laughs against my chest, and I pet her hair and smile up at the ceiling. I glance down past my toes towards the door. Smoke still comes through the sides of the door, but the building is hard stone and now that the wood stairs are burned away, the flames are low and will not rise up.

  “We are safe from the fire,” I say as Wendra glances towards the door and then exhales. She looks past me towards the window, and I sigh and groan as I feel us being pulled back to the real world, away from the realm of the beautifully impossible and the magically unreasonable and the wonderfully insane.

  “Wonderful,” Wendra says, her gaze following mine to the open window and then back. We look at one another and then burst into laughter at the same time. Wendra smacks my chest one last time and then sits up.

  I watch as she clambers to her feet and pads barefoot to her small single bed. Her bare bottom moves like a dream, and her hourglass shape makes my cock perk up even though I have discharged more seed than all the volcanoes of the North Countries put together.

  Wendra leans forward, and I groan at the sight of her raised rump and the dark space between her legs. She pulls off the bedclothes and drags them off the bed. Then she glides to a small wooden shelf near the bed and unfolds another set of sheets.

  “These should be long enough,” she stays, frowning at the sheets and then touching the back of her head. She bites her lip and pats her round belly. Then she glances at my heavy muscle and chuckles and shakes her head. “Will it be strong enough, though?”

  Now I get to my feet and look out the window. I lean over and gauge the distance. She is right. The sheets tied together will be long enough. As for strong enough . . . well, they will be strong enough for her. That is good enough.

  “They will hold you,” I say. “Once you are down, head to the riverbank and find one of my men. They will bring a rope that is strong enough to hold a dozen ox.” As I speak, I hear a rise in the sounds of battle near the Tower. That is not a good sign. It means King Nordwin has been driven back into the streets. Soon he will be forced to retreat to the ships. She needs to hurry. Ordinarily my men would not leave without me, but I cannot forget that they are no longer my men. They serve King Nordwin directly now, and if the fleet is ordered to retreat, they will have no choice. “Come. Quick now. While this street is still empty and my ship is still alongside. Hurry now, Wendra. Our story is not yet complete. Our forever is not yet won. And that means the gods and goddess are not yet done with their tricks.”

  13

  WENDRA

  “Do my eyes trick me?” comes the voice just as I lower myself to the street and let go of the sheets and smooth out my skirts. I frown and look around but it is dark. The street was clear when I started my descent and it appears clear still. I look up to the window but Wolruff has ducked back inside. Perhaps he is dressing himself after making sure I got down safely. He expects me to be making haste towards the riverbank and his men. And that is what I should do.

  “Yes, it is certainly a trick of the eyes or perhaps of the mind,” comes the voice again, and this time I stop and squint in its direction. There is movement in the shadows across the street, in the narrow alley between two deserted buildings. They are men. Soldiers. I cannot tell which side, but I remind myself that I will be safe either way. English soldiers will not harm an Englishwoman. And if they are Vikings, then all the better! I will call out to Wolruff and he will greet them with a guffaw and a grin. So easy, I think as I force a smile and wait for the men to reveal themselves. See, Wolruff, I think. No tricks from the gods. If anything, they are now helping us get to our ending, find our forever, seize our destiny!

  “Seize her,” comes the voice, and finally he steps into the light and I step back when I see who it is.

  King Nordwin. His crown is missing but it is him. Slightly bruised and a little bloodied, his armor hanging lopsided, his Royal Guard nursing various injuries from head to limbs. He must have fled the siege of the Tower and been cut off from the river, forcing to flee down the side streets. I glance up at the window. Wolruff has not seen yet, but before I can call out the Royal Guards grab me and bring me before King Nordwin—who, to my surprise, does look a bit taller than I remember.

  “What kind of witch are you, Mermaid?” Nordwin rasps as he leans forward but does not come closer. “You grant me one wish and not the others? You promised I would sit
upon the Throne of England, but instead I am chased like a rat, defeated like a dog.”

  “Well, at least you are still tall,” I say, offering a shrug. I speak loud and clear, and I know Wolruff must have heard us by now. What will he do, though? His ax lies broken on the street. I did not see his dagger with his battle-garments. He has no arrow to shoot. No spear to hurl.

  The King licks his lips and grins. He shakes his head and shakes it again. “Yes, I am still tall,” he says. Then he loses the grin and narrows his eyes at me. He sees the scar on my neck and frowns. “You were cut by the Viking, but you are still alive. Perhaps that is why only one wish came true. Perhaps two more cuts will grant me two more wishes. Yes,” he whispers, licking his lips again and grinning again. “One more cut and I will sit upon the Throne of England. Then the final cut, deep and true, and I live forever.” He glances at his guards. “Do it,” he says. “Bleed the witch or mermaid or sorceress. Bleed her dry and make my wishes come true.”

  I stagger back as the guards approach, looking up at the window frantically. I do not see Wolruff, and I almost black out when I do not understand why he has not heard, why he does not throw something or at least shout! Have the gods played the ultimate trick and struck him dead? Have they given us one taste of forever and then snatched it away? Is there no end to—

  And then my mind goes still and my eyes go wide and I watch in stunned silence and awed amusement as a naked cannonball of Viking muscle launches from my open window.

  It is Wolruff.

  Arms spread wide like wings.

  Back straight and hard like it was never twisted.

  Eyes green and deadly like the flying sea-monster he is.

  Instead of throwing my tea-kettle or my footstool he throws himself.

  Instead of shouting from above he comes down here to speak his truths.

  To stake his claim.

  Fight for his forever.

  Destroy for his destiny.

  14

  WOLRUFF

  I destroy him with my arse, landing square on King Nordwin’s head and cracking his neck clean and straight. I feel his head getting pushed down into his body, and my bulk crushes him dead like an egg.

  I sit there on the dead King for a moment, blinking several times as the shock of the impact recoils through my muscles and bones. But I am not hurt, and I glance down at the squished King Nordwin beneath my bare balls and naked arse and shrug.

  “Well, so much for being taller,” I say to the stunned Royal Guards who stand there gaping like goldfish. “It was not meant to last.” Then I think a moment, raise an eyebrow, and snap my fingers at Wendra from my perch on the King’s broken body. “Ah, I see now. It is because you are no longer free, Wendra! The moment I claimed you as mine, you became my conquest, my prize, my bounty. So naturally the wishes got undone, reversed. Yes. I believe the gods and goddesses would agree.”

  Wendra looks at me like I am mad, and she rolls her eyes and sighs. But I am serious as a storm, and I stand and stride to Wendra, slide my arm around her waist, and dip her low and clean. I lean in and kiss her deep, smiling as I hear the gods applaud and the goddesses sigh. I kiss her once more and straighten her. She giggles and clears her throat and touches her hair, and now we turn and face the Royal Guards who know not what to do.

  “Leave the King,” I say sternly to the gaping guards. “He died valiantly in battle. When the English find him, they will bury him with honor.” They stare at me and shift on their feet. I smile and place my fists on my naked haunches. I feel invincible like a god, and it occurs to me that the Royal Guards just saw me fall from the heavens like a naked projectile launched by Loki the God of Mischief. They are bleeding and disoriented, and they will not engage a naked madman with fists bigger than their heads. I stand firm and stare them down, and they slowly back away from me and then turn and start to run.

  Wendra laughs, and I put my arm around her. We watch as the Royal Guards fade into the backdrop, and I kiss my woman again as the stars smile down on us like they’ve been watching.

  Watching fate play its game.

  Watching destiny deal its tricks.

  Watching love take its course.

  A course that may twist like the tides and turn like the wind . . .

  But will always lead the lovers home.

  Home to their forever.

  Always and forever.

  ∞

  EPILOGUE

  FIVE YEARS LATER

  WENDRA

  “Our forever started here,” I say to our four year old triplet boys Wain, Woad, and Ween. They stand with Wolruff because my arms cradle our newborn twin girls Wren and Wicca. The stout little boys are dressed in chain-mail Viking armor, and I smile at their earnest young faces. We raised them in the North Country as Vikings, but we taught them more than what the other Vikings teach their young.

  We taught them that the gods and goddesses are tricksters and troublemakers, but that one must never lose faith in their fate, never be dismayed about what their destiny seems to hold. And now we made this trip on our longship to show them how twisted the path to forever can be.

  “When I stood here five years ago, your father had come not to woo me but to lay waste to my land and people,” I say as I stand with my Viking family and gaze upon the site of my old village. My people never returned here, and the wilderness has reclaimed the land, recycled the ruins, renewed the energy of this place. That ritual pool still remains untouched and clear, and I lead my brood to it and gather them around.

  I look at the reflections of smiling faces in a circle. I study the young eyes of my children. I smile at the scars of my husband. Then I look into my own eyes and sigh. The water stays still and silent, smooth like glass. I smile and nod, and then I step back and lead my family back to the ship for our next stop in London.

  Wolruff loads up the boys and then takes the girls from my arms and heads to the ship. I turn back towards that pool and frown. Then I smile and shrug and walk to my waiting husband, smile up at my grinning boys, walk up the plank stairway and take my place amongst them.

  And then, as Wolruff unfurls the sail and the boys take the rudder and I am left alone once more, I realize I can see the water on the pool from here.

  I see it, and it sees me.

  I know it sees me because although there is no breeze, that pool which was smooth as glass now quivers with ripples, giggles with glee, laughs with love, jiggles with joy.

  And that’s all I can feel as we sail away from the past and towards the future.

  Laughter and giggles, joy and jiggles, always and forever.

  Always and forever.

  ∞

  FROM THE AUTHOR

  Was that fun for you guys?

  I hope so!

  Back to modern bad boys again as the CURVY FOR KEEPS Series marches on with DISCIPLINING THE DUKE!

  And do try my other instalove series: DRAGON'S CURVY MATE and CURVY FOR HIM!

  College romance your thing? Try my CURVY IN COLLEGE Series!

  Longer books your thing? Try my 23 full-length novels: CURVES FOR SHEIKHS and CURVES FOR SHIFTERS!

  And do consider joining my private list to get five never-been-published forbidden epilogues from my SHEIKHS series.

  Love,

  Anna.

  ∞

  Always lots in the archives to keep you busy:

  Vampire's Curvy Valentine

  Taken on Thanksgiving

  Captive for Christmas

  Night Before New Years

  Given to the Groom

  THE CURVY FOR HIM SERIES

  The Teacher and the Trainer

  The Librarian and the Cop

  The Lawyer and the Cowboy

  The Princess and the Pirate

  The CEO and the Soldier

  The Astronaut and the Alien

  The Quilter and the
Quarterback

  The Botanist and the Biker

  The Psychic and the Senator

  Want longer books?

  Check out my 23 full-length novels in these series: CURVES FOR SHEIKHS and CURVES FOR SHIFTERS!

  And join my private list to get five never-been-published forbidden epilogues from my SHEIKHS series.

  Love,

  Anna.

  mail@annabellewinters.com

  PS: For my international readers:

  Annabelle in UK

  Annabelle in CA

  Annabelle in AU

  ∞

  BY ANNABELLE WINTERS

  THE CURVES FOR SHEIKHS SERIES (USA)

  Curves for the Sheikh

  Flames for the Sheikh

  Hostage for the Sheikh

  Single for the Sheikh

  Stockings for the Sheikh

  Untouched for the Sheikh

  Surrogate for the Sheikh

  Stars for the Sheikh

  Shelter for the Sheikh

  Shared for the Sheikh

  Assassin for the Sheikh

  Privilege for the Sheikh

  Ransomed for the Sheikh

  Uncorked for the Sheikh

  Haunted for the Sheikh

  Grateful for the Sheikh

  Mistletoe for the Sheikh

  Fake for the Sheikh

  THE CURVES FOR SHIFTERS SERIES (USA)

  Curves for the Dragon

  Born for the Bear

  Witch for the Wolf

  Tamed for the Lion

  Taken for the Tiger

  THE CURVY FOR HIM SERIES (USA)

  The Teacher and the Trainer

  The Librarian and the Cop