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Her Viking Wolf (50 Loving States #3) Page 37
Author: Theodora Taylor

“That is only if Fenris finds a way to quell the screaming,” said one of the cousins. “If not, we will all be kept awake until the sunrise.”

Another yell of laughter.

Unfortunately, her new family didn’t have stuff like television, and white collar jobs, and celebrity gossip to distract them, which meant they were back at it at breakfast, and still going when they all came back together for supper before the full moon.

“Try kissing her when she does excite, our Fenris. Mayhap that will keep this night peaceful,” said Aunt Bera’s daughter.

Then Uncle Olafr set into a rather physical retelling of how he had run for his battle axe, thinking their queen, who he held so dear, was being murdered in the distance—that is until he heard her cry out their king’s name. “And yea, then did I realize, nay, she was not being murdered, she was being stabbed!” He jerked his hips back and forth to drive home the message.

This got the biggest laugh yet, with everyone, including the servants, cracking up so hard they had tears in their eyes.

She looked down the table to the Viking, who was lazily picking at his plate of chicken.

“Can’t you do anything to stop them?” she asked him mentally.

“You have incited them by once again choosing to sit with my aunt as opposed to your king. They believe you are trying to distance yourself from what happened the day before. Embarrassment to Vikings be as blood to bears. It only incites them. Nay, the sole way to stop this is to be bold in action.”

She narrowed her eyes, “And how exactly would I do that?”

“A kiss might make for the effect you want.”

“So you’re saying if I kiss you, and act like I really am full of losti for you, then they’ll stop teasing me?”

“Yes.”

That reasoning seemed a little backwards to her, but then again just about everything in this time and place was backwards from wolf society in Colorado. She took a deep breath and with her head held high, she strode to the head of the table, where Fenris was sitting.

He in reply scooted back and offered his lap, which she gingerly took a seat upon. Then pretending she was someone else, some saucy she-wolf who didn’t get embarrassed at brazenly public displays of affection, she hooked her hand behind his head, threading her fingers into his silky red hair before pulling his face down to hers for a passionate kiss that went on and on and on . . .

And Fenris was right. The unexpected kiss completely silenced the room. She could practically feel the wide eyes of family and servants on them as their tongues mingled inside each other’s mouths and the scent of her arousal once again rose between them. Only knowing there were children present allowed her to cut it off, tearing her lips from his just as his large arms wrapped around her to draw her closer.

As soon as she stopped kissing him, a great cheer went up from the dinner table, and the catcalls and bawdy talk redoubled in size.

She glared at him. “I thought you said kissing you would shut them up.”

“It will,” he answered before slamming a hand on the table, loudly enough to get everyone’s attention.

“From henceforth there is to be no more talk of this subject. You have said your part, leave it. And leave us now.” His eyes burned into Chloe’s. “I wish to start the eventide’s activities early.”

Every wolf jumped to obey his command, with servants divesting the table of its dishes and exiting the house so quickly, it was hard to believe five minutes ago the house had been filled with bawdy laughter.

“You said me kissing you would stop them,” she said.

“And it did,” he answered, with a smile on his lips.

“No, you telling them to stop made them stop.”

“And I did tell them to stop because you lay your lips upon mine,” he answered. “You should try kissing me more oft, my queen, especially the tongue kissing. You might be surprised at what you gain.”

Now it was her turn to smile, “So that’s what you call French kissing—tongue kissing?”

“Yea, what have the Franks to do with tongue kissing?”

She thought about it. “Actually, I have no idea. It’s like the oven, and the microwave, and the bathtub. In my time most of us have no idea how anything works or why we say the things we say.”

He smiled, “Then ‘tis fortunate you are now in my land, in my time. If you doth wonder how a thing works or why a word is called as it is, you have only but to ask.”

She licked her lips. “In that case, what exactly is considered bold here?” She pressed her hand into his crotch and squeezed. “For example, is this considered bold?”

He drew in his breath at the unexpected move. “Yes, very bold.”

“Feel free to tell me when I go to far.”

“This I will,” he answered, his eyes hooding with desire. “And I can assure you now that you have not.”

“In that case, if I ask you the Norse word for ‘dick,’ is that too bold?”

She felt him harden even further under her hand.

“No, it is not,” he answered. Then out loud said the word: “Boli.”

“I see,” she said. “And what do you call blow jobs—or is that too bold of a question?”

“I do not know the meaning of ‘blowjob.’”

She bit her lip. “In that case, I might have to show you—but I don’t want to be too bold.”

“I do not believe this to be possible,” he said. “Especially considering the depth of my desire for you right now.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, even as she slipped to her knees and started tugging down his pants for him. The rush of power she felt from being able to turn the Viking on with just her words and her hand covering his cock, had her own pussy clenching in and out with desire.

He lifted his hips to help her help him out of his pants. “Verily, am I sure. I have enjoyed teaching you the ways of my land over the last weeks. Now I would have you teach me the ways of your land.”

“In that case,” she said, “There or two ways to play with your boli where I come from. The first is I take you in my hand.”

She wrapped her hand around his dick and stroked him up and down, just hoping she was doing it right, since her only real lesson in this stuff was from reading erotica and watching a few porn movies in the hopes of jumpstarting her heat.

But she must have definitely been doing something right, because she heard Fenris’s breath catch above her, and soon the bulbous head of his cock was shiny with the pre-cum spilling from its narrow slit.

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Theodora Taylor's Novels
» Her Russian Surrender (50 Loving States #10)
» His One and Only (50 Loving States #6)
» Her Perfect Gift (50 Loving States #5)
» Her Viking Wolf (50 Loving States #3)
» Her Russian Billionaire (50 Loving States #2)
» The Owner of His Heart (50 Loving States #1)