Here’s an excerpt from the first book in the Viking Warriors series, The Bear and the Bride.
The Bear and The Bride Blurb :
Can The Northern Bear protect his new wife from the powerful Earl Sigrid?
Torsten, Jarl of Stjórardalr also known as the Northern Bear, glimpses Ainslin of Durham, a recent widow with two sons, and immediately covets her for his wife. He outmaneuvers his rival, Ainslin’s neighbor Earl Sigrid, and receives the king’s blessing to marry her.
Ainslin fears Torsten’s reaction when he discovers she’s a virgin. How to explain both her maidenhead and twin sons? She leaves Mercia to marry Torsten and live in Norway to keep her boys safe. Ainslin’s worst nightmares are realized when her former neighbor – Earl Sigrid – arrives in Norway for King Cnut’s coronation.
What does Sigrid suspect? Will Torsten cast Ainslin and the boys aside when he discovers the truth?
The Bear and The Bride Excerpt :
Torsten kissed her hard, his mouth eating at her lips. Ainslin’s passionate response fired a bolt of lust more powerful than the lightning from Thōrr’s mighty hammer, Mjöllnir. His sacs contracted, and the berserker in him went wild. He cupped her ass, tilting her hips forward, and he drove into her, impaling her in one thrust, tearing through her maidenhead.
Shock froze his limbs. He looked down to find her eyes squeezed shut, her forehead creased, and her mouth pinched.
His prick throbbed, his sacs, swollen full-to-bursting, demanded release. Lust drummed his skull, raging desire strummed his veins, the urge to plunder and pillage racked a shudder through his knotted muscles. He held still, not daring even a hint of friction, too close to the edge to rush the ecstasy of her clamping sheath, the fiery grip of her channel.
Anger cut a slice off his hunger, and he raised his head and stared at the roof, battling the craving to spill his seed, to claim her, to own her, to pound into her tight puss, to find a senseless release.
She set her hands on his chest, her fingers unsteady, and he felt the hammering of her heart as her wrists connected with his chest.
Torsten glanced at her and ground his teeth when he found her eyes open wider than a
startled doe’s, the gold in the green reflecting the light from the lamp above the bed.
“I do not please you,” she whispered, ducking her chin.
“Nay.” Trying not to move his lower body, he kissed her closed eyelids, her forehead, the corner of one eye. “Ainslin, we will speak of this later. ’Tis naught but pleasing to be sheathed in your womanhood. I fear the pain of your broken maidenhead scattered all pleasure for you.”
She lifted her head abruptly, and her skull impacted his jaw, the crack like thunder in the silence of the chamber. “My pardon, my lord. I did not mean to wound you.”
A smile played at his mouth. “I make you a bargain, Ainslin. After this, you will kiss my jaw better, and I will kiss your sheath better.”
Twin circles of pink blossomed in her cheeks, and her eyes grew big and round as the meaning of his words sank in. He studied her face for any sign of pain and found none, her mouth now relaxed, not pursed, and he knew she was not aware of her fingers tracing the brown flesh around his nipples.
Torsten rocked into her gently; her eyebrows rose. He repeated the motion and, by Odin, her sweet puss clutched his cock greedily. Sweat beaded his forehead. He worked his jaw and withdrew slowly, easing his throbbing shaft from her channel until the crown rimmed her entrance.
Her nails dug into his shoulders, her eyes glazed over and she mewled.
The agony of filling her slowly again, sliding his prick into her convulsing womanhood, almost did him in. Torsten gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to pummel and pound.
She slipped a hand down to his ass and kneaded the cheek, her lithe fingers stabbing lust-bolts through his groin.
He grunted and concentrated on another slow retreat.
Her nails bit into his rump, and she squeezed his bottom rhythmically.
Torsten’s control slipped, and he thrust to the hilt.
She lifted her leg and wrapped her calf around his hip.
Hanging onto the last of his warrior discipline, he rasped, “Ainslin, do you hurt?”
“’Tis agony,” she moaned.
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Hope you enjoy!