Nena, Ann Boelter [novels in english TXT] 📗

leaned over him, her breasts pressing through the soft material of her dress tantalizingly close to his face, and untied the laces at the front of his tunic. One at a time she pulled each of his arms out of the sleeves and then pulled it over his head. She threw it to one side and ran her fingers through the hair on his chest. “That looks a little better. But still...”

She glanced lower and allowed her fingers to trace the hair along the center of his rippled stomach down to the top of his trousers. Jarl exhaled when her fingers stopped at the laces there. “These trousers look very binding to me.” Scooting her body lower, but still sitting beside him on the furs, she unlaced the ties of his trousers with excruciating slowness. Before she had finished, the front of his trousers were, in fact, very binding.

She glanced up at him and smiled. His eyes were the green she had imagined so many times since her escape, but the intensity within them now was even more than she remembered. She caught her breath. He said nothing, only watched her. “I’m sorry, but the trousers have to go, too,” she said with a smile. She turned back to her task, peeling both sides of his trousers open and down. His erection sprang up at the sudden release. She did not touch it. Instead, she stood and moved to his feet, lifting each leg and pulling the trousers off of him one leg at a time.

Still standing at the base of the furs, she allowed her eyes to feast on her handiwork, taking in every detail of his lean naked masculine form. “You still don’t look comfortable,” she murmured.

“Imagine that,” he said, his voice tight.

“I know what you need,” she murmured.

“Not that hard to guess from your vantage point, I’m sure.”

Nena reached up behind her neck under her hair and untied her dress. She held onto the ties with both hands and only slowly let it slide down her body.

“Nena,” Jarl groaned. The depth of his need and desire for her in his tone were more stimulating than she could have imagined. He had yet to touch her, but her body was on fire for him. She let the dress fall to the floor, tired of her game—having become as much the victim of it as he was. Stepping toward him, she knelt and straddled him above his waist. She leaned forward and kissed him, her hair fanning softly around them. Jarl grabbed her by her upper arms and pulled her tighter, returning her kiss. Holding her there, he pulled his lips away and ducked his head, securing one of her nipples with his mouth, then the other.

Nena moaned with pleasure. She pushed his shoulders back into the furs and pulled away from him, sliding her body down until she felt his shaft between her thighs. She squeezed and pressed her pelvis lower taking him inside her, not stopping until the full length of him was buried deep within.

Jarl grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands from his shoulders. Taking control, he sat up and suckled her breasts again as he thrust within her. It was too much—Nena felt her climax coming already and clutched at him, her fingers twisting in the hair on the back of his head as she gave into it. As she let out a long gasping moan, Jarl gave two hard final thrusts inside her. His fingers dug into her shoulder blades pulling her down onto him even tighter, his face buried in her neck. They sat suspended that way for a moment until Jarl fell backward into the furs with a groan, pulling her with him.

“You are going to be the death of me. I swear it,” he said with a smile.

Nena smiled and snuggled in against the chest she had so missed.

“I have brought ink for you. For us both,” Nena said as she entered their tent the next day.

“For what?” Jarl asked.

“You were so worried before about having your name on my arm for the world to see, and now it will be so—though what symbol to use for you has given the council cause to consult the gods.”

“And what have they decided?” he asked. “Hopefully it will be something bold,” Jarl said, though he was fully expecting something degrading. Nena frowned which only deepened his concern.

“I don’t like it, but it’s already been decided. It is the curved head and neck of a serpent. They say it represents your ships, but I do not understand a ship formed in such a manner. And I don’t care for serpents,” she added. “My mother died from the bite of a serpent. I do not remember it, but they say it took several days to kill her, and her death was very painful.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“It was long ago.” She changed the subject. “I can draw it for you if you’d like?”

“Yes.”

Nena picked up a stick, and drew the figure from memory, in the soft exposed dirt near the fire ring, the only place on the floor that wasn’t covered with carpet.

Jarl smiled and nodded. “It is a good symbol,” he said, satisfied.

Nena looked to him to explain.

“It’s not a serpent, well, maybe a serpent of sorts; it is the head and neck of a dragon.”

“A dragon.” Nena repeated the word, the “r” rolling off her tongue with the guttural undertones he found so appealing. “I do not know this word. Describe the animal.”

“The dragon is the most powerful beast that has ever lived. It has a serpent’s head, but legs like a lizard, and a body so large it can carry multiple men on its back. It’s covered with thick heavy scales that can rarely be pierced by arrow or sword, and it has a long tail and great wings that enable it to fly like a bird.”

“A giant flying serpent?” Nena was incredulous.

“Yes,” Jarl nodded. “And it has huge teeth