Unwanted (9 page)

Gritting his teeth against a slew of curses, Finn fought the murderous urges battling with the lust in his blood.
 
Those fucking soldiers.
 
Maybe he’d coax their names from her lips and hunt them for sport.
 
They would fight and kick like rabbits in a snare before he gutted them.
 
He would feed them their own entrails before the lights went out of their eyes.

Struggling to contain the violence pounding in his heart, Finn dropped his head into her fragrant hair and took three deep, centering breaths.
 
 

She continued to lie absolutely still beneath him.
 

“Wrap your legs around me,” he commanded, more brusquely than intended.
 

She whimpered, but complied, hooking her ankles at his back.
 

Finn burrowed his arms beneath her and lifted her off the bed and stood.
 

Her eyes flew open and she held tightly to his shoulders.
 
“What are you doing?” she asked.
 
“I thought—”

“Oh, I still mean to have you.”
 
He turned his body and sat on the bed, settling her onto his lap with her knees split over him.

“But… how?”
 
The heat from her core beckoned to his cock, which seemed to stretch toward her of its own volition.
 
 

Finn took the curve of her hips in each hand and lifted her away from him, positioning his throbbing column against the opening of her body, once again.
 

“Like this,” he grit out.
 
“But you have to do it.”

Her eyebrows shot up.
 
“What?”

“I won’t hurt you.
 
And I’ll not take what you do not freely give me,
Rhona
,” he vowed.
 
“
You
take
me
.
 
Take me inside you.”

She blinked, her chest lifting and falling with her labored breath.
 
Finn watched a myriad of emotions play across her face before her eyes closed once again.
 
Hands resting on his shoulders, she lifted herself on her knees, then exhaled and slowly pressed her body forward.
 

The slit of her body was wet and tight as it stretched over the blunt head of his sex.
 
He knew he would stretch her. He was an uncommonly large man.
 
But the feel of her flesh slowly accommodating to him had to be the sweetest sensation of his long life.
 

And it was going to kill him.
 
His lust and instinct pounded through him demanding that he thrust and dominate.
 
It took such incredible force of will for him to remain still, that his muscles began to quiver.

It was her eyes that saved her.
 
They flew open, filled with astounded wonder as she sank in torturous increments.
 
Her lips parted and the warm rush of her astonished sigh hit his face.
 
Finn tempered the surges of need by intently watching each sensation flow through her expressions.
 
What he saw
there
awed and humbled him.
 
Relief, pleasure, curiosity, utter
vulnerability.

Rapture.
 

His heart contracted.
 
This moment was crafted for them.
 
For him.
 
If he did nothing good in his life, he did this.
 
He brought this woman satisfaction, and for that he was saved.

When she almost had him inside her, she paused, looking troubled.
 
“I don’t think I can take any more,” she whispered.
 

“You can,” he gasped.
 
Clutching her hips, he lifted her until he almost withdrew, pulling a ragged sound from them both.
 

She began her descent again, this time faster, wetter, and with more confidence.
 
She did not stop until he was buried inside her to the hilt.
 

Sweat broke out on his forehead, his restraint stretching to impossible lengths.

She held still, letting their breath tangle in the darkness.
 
Finn dared not move either, for fear that he might lose this perfect place.
 
He fit inside her like she’d been a warm sheath crafted only for him.
 
When she adjusted herself, testing her untried muscles, a raw moan ripped from his throat before he could call it back.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked, lifting some of her weight off of him.

He gasped out a chuckle, gripping her hips even harder.
 
“Nay, but I fear that I may be unmanned.”

“I need… something.”
 
Her whispered carnal confession caused ripples of an orgasm to clench low in his belly.
 
“What is this need?”

Fin dropped his forehead to hers and gulped in a breath, praying to Freya for strength.
 

“
This
.”
 
He lifted her hips and brought her slick weight back down upon him, impaling her with his shaft.
 

When she gasped and grasped his shoulders, he did it again, and a third time watching her eyes stretch impossibly wider with each invasion.

“Am I hurting you?” he returned her question.

“No,” she whispered.
 
“It feels… good.”
 

The surprise in her voice broke what little control he had left.
 
He lifted her tempting
arse
in a solid rhythm now.
 
Before the night was over, she’d have a few other words than “good” to describe how she felt.

He loved the feel of her fingers gripping his shoulders, and her sex likewise gripping his as he pumped her body above him.
 
She tried to help by bracing her legs against the mattress, but Finn knew that for all the control he’d meant to give her, this was his job now, to set a rhythm that would catapult them both into the stars.
 

Her soft gasps turned into startled whimpers as he quickened their pace.
 
Her bottom slapped against his thighs, creating the most erotic sound he’d ever hope to hear again.
 
He could feel the clench of her muscles, and the strain of her body as it reached for the release hovering above them.
 

“Finn.”
 
She groaned his name in her husky timbre and it was nearly his undoing.
 
Her lips, moistened with her pink tongue, almost collided with his, but Finn plunged his hand into her hair at the last moment and pulled her in close to his body.
 

 
“I’m going to…”
 
As her intimate muscles clenched around him, her teeth sank into the meat of his shoulder, muffling her cry.

The sharp pleasure-pain of her teeth dumped him over the edge.
 
Burning fire shot from his spine through his cock and exploded inside of her in long, sharp spurts.
 
His seed coated her womb and further eased his thrusts through her pulsing sex.
 
Her convulsing muscles milked from him the most powerful orgasm of his life.
 
As soon as the initial implosion subsided and Finn rode the throbbing waves of intense pleasure, he understood that this moment of joining with her had forever changed them both.
 

When the last of her pleasure had wrung from her, Finn caught her as she collapsed against him.
 

“Who are you?” she panted against his ear.
 
“
What
are you?”

Finn closed his eyes, savoring the feel of her body held against his.
 
What was he?
 
He was a warrior.
 
He was an assassin.
 
He was templar and priest.
 
He was prisoner and servant.
 
He was hunter and executioner.
 
He was lover and worshiper.
 
He was a bastard in every sense of the word.

“I am a Berserker.”

Rhona
had heard the word before, she’d grown up with the bedtime stories and myths sung by old bards.
 

Berserker.

It was whispered in awed tones whenever the imposing MacLauchlan Laird and his brother were about.
 
 
They moved with a primal rhythm through the town like two huge dark sentries, surveying their land and people with severe, protective scrutiny.
 
The fantastical stories that followed in their wake had been impossible to believe.
 
However a shadow of precipitous danger chased the brothers like a biblical scourge, and
Rhona
had taken care to never garner the notice of a Berserker.
 
Fabled or not.
 

And now she was wrapped around one who remained buried deep within her body.
 

“What did you do to me?” she breathed against his neck.
 
“Was it some kind of Berserker magic?”

His chest vibrated with a soft chuckle.
 
“Nay, I was just a man taking pleasure with a beautiful woman.”

Pleasure
with
. Not pleasure
from
.
 
Rhona
found she liked that very much.
 

“But I’ve been with men before and nothing even close to that has ever happened.”

Finn drew them apart as if to look at her, but that was ludicrous as the night was black as ever.
 
“You never found pleasure with a man?
 
Not even your husband?”
 
Pure astonishment crept into his voice.

“Not once,” she confessed.
 
Did that mean something was wrong with her?
 
Was she defective somehow?
 

“Then they were not men,” he scoffed.
 
“They were no more than rutting animals.”

Rhona
supposed she agreed.
 
But she didn’t want to think about any of that now.
 
Not in the aftermath of what they’d just done.
 
Reluctant to leave his warmth, she wriggled off of his lap.
 

He let out a groan but allowed her to stand.
 
She felt blindly in her familiar room for her cupboard and extracted a cloth to wipe
herself
before handing it to him.
 

Finn took it before she could say, “
Here.
”

“How do you do that?” she asked.

“Hmm?”
 
Languor dripped from the sound.
 

“How do you know that I was holding something out to you?
 
Come to think of it, how did you know that the woodcutter had arrived before he knocked at my door?”

“I see you,” he answered her with few words, as was his way.
 
“And I heard him.”

“That’s impossible.
 
It is black as pitch in here and the storm is so loud that it sounds as though a herd of wild ponies are stampeding through the village.”

Rhona
nearly screeched with surprise as she found herself being lifted in his strong arms as though she weighed as much as the babe had.
 
It was the reminder of the sleeping child that killed the sound in her throat.
 
He walked them to the bed and laid her upon it.
 

“I can see you now.”
 
Rhona
frowned at the smug pleasure in his words.
 
“Your breasts are beautiful.”

Her arms clamped over her breasts.
 

“No you can’t,” she protested, her mind unwilling to process his claim.
 
But then, he had just effortlessly found her in the dark, lifted her and made his way to the bed without error.