Chapter 9 – Shelter From The Storm

Tara Cox Literary Erotica logo

Svein brushed the strand of hair back from her face. He could not resist the urge to caress it between his fingers for a long moment. It was incredibly soft but not as soft of her skin, her generous ass that had cradled his cock the whole fucking night, or most of all, the tender heart that beat between those full tits. He shook his head and cursed under his breath. ‘What the fuck are you going to do?’ asked that tormenting voice in his head.

There was not much he could do, this morning at least. Right now, he needed to wake her up. After keeping her up most of the night, he had wanted to let her sleep later. But given the way his baby brother stormed out of the house, he shook his head. He was not the one to go after Bjⱷrn. Nor were Olav and their mother, who had broken open the hidden vault of family secrets to him. And Mikael? With his issues?

No, she was the only one that stood a chance of reaching him now. Of making him see through the betrayal, he must be feeling. How had it come to this? How many times could they have explained it all to him without all this damned drama? Every single time the kid had begged for a baby brother or sister was a lost opportunity. Back then, he might not have even connected the pieces.

Damn, Mama…and their fathers! They should have never kept what happened a secret from him. In the end, Mama had been alright. They all had been — sort of anyway. The important thing was that she had not died. But even as he thought it, he knew that was a lie — a horrible lie as he remembered that year and all the pain it had held. And the painful silence since then?

He brushed her hair out of her face, caressing her cheek tenderly until she stirred in her sleep. She frowned as she rolled over and stretched, “Svein?” she whispered in that sexy, throat tone. His cock hardened just at the sound of his name on her lips. Even after taking her four times last night, he was more than ready to bury himself in her welcoming depths again.

But as much as his body needed hers, his baby brother needed her more. “God morgen,” he offered as he reached for the still steaming cup of tea he had sat next to the bed earlier. “You might need this,” he offered with as much of a smile as he could muster.

She half-smiled in return and clutched the duvet tighter, drawing it up to cover more of those lush breasts. “Thank you,” she muttered as she blew on it. How would it feel if she did that across the head of his cock, he wondered.

She brought the cup to her lips. How many times had he kissed those lips last night? He could tell they were still a bit swollen even. Kissing had never been his thing. It was too intimate – much too intimate for his taste. Except when it came to her. With her…he needed to taste and feel all of it.

Her smile was broader, and her eyes a bit less dreamy when she lowered the cup a moment later, “Takk skal du ha,” she said.

“You are learning quickly,” he smiled as he bit back the words ‘good girl.’ It would not do to spoil her with them. She needed to earn them.

“Tusen takk,” she replied as he bit his tongue. She smiled and drained half the cup. “You know for coffee drinkers; you are all getting damned good at making a decent cup of tea.”

He laughed, “Yes, we shall have to keep the damned stuff on hand until we convert you.”

She shook her head, “Lykke til med det. I hate the stuff,” she finished it and handed the cup back to him as she clutched the duvet and sat up in bed. “What time is it?”

His eyebrows went up; she was getting quite good at Norwegian in less than a week.

“Earlier than I wanted to wake you. I had planned to let you sleep until noon. But I need your help,” he stammered a bit. “We need your help.”

Her eyes searched the room until they found her clothes folded on the chair across the room. He noticed the frown that creased her pretty face, and it was all too easy to guess her thoughts. Usually, he would have never ceded so quickly to such insecurities, but right now, it was not his wife’s behavior that needed correcting but his baby brother’s. So, he picked them and handed them to her.

“Takk,” she responded with a smile. “So, what do you need my help with?” she asked as she tried very hard to unfold her sweater and put it on over her head without dropping the duvet and revealing her full figure. In the end, she gave up and looked up at him, “Turn around.”

Svein debated the issue. Yes, his brother needed her right then. But if he allowed this one to pass unchallenged, it set a precedent, a huge one, and more importantly, fed her insecurities. “No, you are my wife. You dress and undress in front of me,” but before she could argue, he launched into the crux of the matter.

“I do not feel like wasting time arguing with you when I have every intention of winning this one. And when Bjⱷrn needs you more right now, than you need to be playing the shy little girl with a man who has seen, touched, and tasted every fucking inch of that body. So, get up and get that cute ass dressed, or you can spend half an hour that we do not have standing in the corner.”

He stepped forward and stared into the depths of her blue eyes, “And you will be standing there naked, my beautiful wife.”

He punctuated his words with a slap to her bum. “Now, get dressed while we talk.”


Kirsty exhaled slowly. Damn him. Damn him to…she searched her mind for the stories that Bjⱷrn had told her as they cuddled together after making love. They always talked about anything…everything…nothing.

Not so with Mister Cool. Yes, fuck Atlas. She was reminded of a favorite series of children’s books illustrated with stick figures and extolling various traits. And this one was Mister Cool. And damn him to Helveti; that was it. Damn Mister Cool to Helveti.

She wanted to argue. Honest, she did. Punishment be damned. She was not going to just parade around naked in front of him. Hell, that was hard enough with Bjⱷrn, and she knew he loved her. With Mikael…well, honestly, she was no longer sure what things would be like with him, now that they had a truce. But with Svein, intimacies aside, she still felt more like a prize heifer than the wife he called her.

But they could have that argument later. “What is wrong with Bjⱷrn?” she asked as she stood up, still half clutching the duvet as she struggled into her jeans.

He shook his head at her; it was clear from his stare that he was not pleased. Too damned bad. This time he was not bullying her – Domming her into anything. Maybe it was about time he learned that she had a little thing called limits, and maybe naked was one of them. A fucking hard one at that, she considered as she buttoned up the jeans and pulled the sweater down to cover her too soft tummy.

Damn the man, why did his eyes have to linger there of all places? Another reminder of all she was to him, “Bjⱷrn?” she demanded. This time there was an edge to her voice.

He sighed and looked back up into her face, “Mama and Olav spoke to him over breakfast this morning. About…” he trailed off.

She shook her head, “Why? Why would they do that now? After all these years. Didn’t they know it would upset him?”

“Because Mama just had to go telling you for some stupid reason and because you are the world’s worst fucking liar.” He stepped closer, and his thumb caressed her cheek, “One look in those gods’ be damned eyes and baby brother would know something was wrong.”

“Even after fucking you all night long, I can still see it there. How long exactly do you think it would take him to get the story out of you? How many sweet words or tender kisses until you told him every fucking thing, sweetheart?”

“Hell, you don’t even love me, and still you cannot deny me any fucking perversion I want. How much more with one of us that you do fucking love?” His whole body was stiff. Those lines around his mouth and eyes seemed etched in stone.

For a moment, she wanted to wrap her arms about him, press her body to his and deny it. Deny that it was only Bjⱷrn, whom she loved. But the steel blue in those eyes held her back. Why? Why would she risk rejection from a man that, despite Petrine’s words, only wanted one thing from her?

Well, maybe more than one thing, but that was just kink and sex. All men needed that. It did not mean he gave a damn about her. No, this one was a two-way street. “I would not have said anything,” she asserted.

He shook his head, “That’s just it. You don’t need to say a damn thing for us to know when you are upset. Even I know that right now, you want to hit me. Go ahead, dear wife. Maybe another round of lust-filled fucking will wipe that look off your face,” he growled as he laced his fingers through her hair. His eyes held hers for a long moment.

Kirsty could not deny the hunger or the pain she saw there. But that did not mean this man cared, the way his mother wanted to believe. It only meant he wanted sex. Some Darwinian imperative to breed. Maybe it even meant he was jealous of his ‘baby’ brother. She supposed guys could be like that. Want what the other had…even if they did not want it for themselves.

Might never… Her throat tightened at that thought. But she was not going to allow him to win, not anymore. She shoved at his chest, “Bjⱷrn? Where is your brother? Where do I find him?”

He instantly released her as if touching her burned like boiling water. “Oh, yes, run. Runaway. To the little virgin. Although I am sure you have handled that by now. You have managed to get from my idealistic baby brother what all those other women could not, haven’t you, my dear sweet almost as innocent little wife?”

She turned on him, hands on her hips, “You were the one who came to me, remember? And hell yeah, if he needs me, I am going to him. But just for your fucking information, I would do the same for Mikael. Hell, if you would take two fucking minutes to drop the über Dom crap, I’d do the same if you needed me. It’s what people do when they…”

“Love someone?” He snarled, “Don’t give me that shit, sweetheart. You barely can stand me. Do you think I did not feel how many times you drew away from my touch last night? That naïve little mind of yours having problems with how easily my experience can play that needy little cunt of yours in ways that the man you love cannot?”

“Well, here is something else for you to think about. Get fucking used to it. We are a package deal. And you know who you have to thank for that…my mother and the man you love. They were the fucking ones that insisted the old ways were best.”

“They were the ones that dragged Mikael and me, kicking and screaming, into this little web of jealousy and deceit. Oh yes, if baby brother had not been so fucking starry-eyed about ‘tradition,’ he could have had you all to his fucking self.”

Kirsty had had enough, she stepped forward and shoved Svein with all her might back onto the bed, “Well, while we are at honesty, dear husband,” the vitriol dripped from her words. “You try this on for size – it was you. Your photo that I saw first. Your mother even made me realize yesterday that if it had been Bjⱷrn’s, I would have never replied, just like I did not with all the other messages I had received.”

“And it was you who decided to bring me back here. You. You who had final fucking say as the eldest. And you who…”

Her throat got so incredibly tight on the words. She could not even say ‘took’ me anymore. The truth was that as scared and insecure as she was, she had wanted it. Wanted him — this man. Before Bjⱷrn or Mikael even came into the picture, it had been him.

She felt the tears threatening to spill once more. But she would be damned if she gave him that satisfaction… ‘Never let them see you cry.’ She turned her back and shook her head.

What did it matter now? He was Mister Cool. Atlas. Closed off and unreachable…and that was his fucking choice. She had her own to make.

“Where would he go?” Kirsty hoped that he could not hear the husky hint of tears in her voice. “Where would Bjⱷrn go when he’s upset?” she focused upon what she could do at that moment. She would deal with this shit another time. Maybe delay it as long as she could.

“The old clubhouse that we played in as boys is the only place Mikael and I could think of,” his voice was as quiet then as her own was.

She was tempted for a moment to turn around. But why? What could she say or do? How could she reach the unreachable? By his own choice. She nodded without looking back, “I’ll find Mikael then. Have him show me the way.”

She forced one foot in front of the other. Each step she reminded herself, you cannot help him if he doesn’t let you. Focus as he says upon the one that does love you. The one that needs you now. But the short distance off the boat seemed like the never-ending maze of the Labyrinth and Svein the Minotaur.

She lost the battle with those tears until her vision blurred, and she stumbled on the bottom rung of the gangway. She might have fallen face-first into the mud except for the strong arms that caught her, “Be careful, princess.”

Through the tears, she looked up into the cold steel grey of the man, who she had gone to find. “Take me to him, Mikael.”

She saw him inhale as he nodded. “Of course,” was all he said as he led her to a four-wheel ATV. “Put this on,” he said as he handed her a helmet.

After the fight she had with Svein, she was too drained to argue as she strapped it on and hopped on behind him. Her arms wrapped about his waist, and the only sound for the next five minutes was the rumble of the engine, each lost in thought, neither willing to bend enough to share.

When they arrived, it was the very edge of the Holding. The fjord ran just feet from where he stopped. Mikael pointed to a bunch of trees that had thicker underbrush than most of the island.

“Through there about twenty yards. It isn’t much, but you cannot miss it. Just a basic lean-to that Svein and I built for him when he could barely walk. We used to come out here all the time before I went to sea…”

She watched his face, saw the play of emotions there. She wanted to reach out, brush the frown from around his lips, “When Mama needed some time alone…for her flowers or to write in her journals, I’d bring the little hellion out here to give her a break.”

He paused and looked up at the sky as if it could take him back to that time, “Anyway, since the car and the boat are still here, there are not many places he could go. I am betting this is it. But I’ll wait five minutes…just to be sure. Take you back if I am wrong.”

She smiled and brushed a brief kiss on his cheek, “Thank you, Mikael.”

He shook his dark head, “For what? Not strangling him back then when I could have?” he sighed and brushed the hair back from her face that the helmet had displaced, “I know I probably don’t need to say this, but just never hurt him, okay?”

Kirsty fought back the tears that had remained just below the surface as she nodded. This time she boldly pressed a chaste kiss upon his warm full-lips, “I won’t.” ‘And neither will I hurt you,’ she thought as she turned. Torn once more.

She felt hysterical laughter welling up inside of her, “How the fuck did you do this shit, Rachel?” she whispered to the crisp early morning autumn air.

She hoped that something was out there: their gods or hers. Because she could use some help here. If loving one man was hard, loving three seemed impossible. But she also knew that if one of those gods suddenly appeared and forced her to choose, she could not. Not even Mister Cool.

She smiled as she pushed a branch aside and came into a small clearing. He sat on a stone in front of a collection of logs that might have once been a mighty fortress to a little boy. Even with his back to her, he looked as broken as it was. She walked to him and placed her hands on his shoulders.

When he turned, she saw tears in those Kelly green eyes, and her throat tightened even more than if his hand were on her throat. She knelt on the cold ground next to him and pressed her forehead to his. Sometimes words just got in the way.


Bjⱷrn reached for her, the only solid ground in a world that was shattered and falling away. He could not help it. As much as he wanted and even needed to protect her, the love and concern he saw in her eyes melted all his resolves. He could never deny her anything as his mouth took hers.

The emotions were as raw as he felt at that moment. But with her none of it mattered. Just her tender caress, her concerned smile, and the genuine care in those blue eyes. Did any fucking thing else matter? Would it…ever?

At least not at that moment as his hands inched beneath the coat and her sweater. Even in the crisp autumn air, her skin was soft and warm and welcoming…all he needed. But it wasn’t, not really.

His fingers found the button at the top of the damned jeans and popped it off in urgency. His other hand joined the battle as together, they tore the zipper open and shoved the roughness away. His mouth never left hers even in the heat of battle.

She, too, seemed to share his need for urgency as she lifted just enough to allow him to push them to her knees. She discarded them, kicking them among the dead leaves. When she came back to him, her fingers fumbled at the waistband of his own.

He had long since lost patience as he pushed her fingers aside and tore at his jeans with the same delicacy as he had dispensed with hers. It took only a second for his cock to spring free, to rise between them as he pulled her onto his lap. With no preamble, he sank fully into her. Found and took the solace she offered – that she alone could give.

He pulled her tighter against him, as if he did not squeeze the very air from her lungs, she would slip away. As if she were the wind and he was powerless to capture it in his sails, even though it was all that propelled him forward, he knew he could not fully conquer it. Her love was the wind, ever-changing and ever-constant, moving and blowing across him, flowing and ebbing. It was all he wanted or needed as fleeting as it was.

Even as his hands on her hips guided her movements, as he filled her, he knew it was not enough. It never would be. No matter how many times she opened her legs, no matter how often she wrapped her arms about his shoulders, no matter how many times he felt her shudder and tremble, her tight cunt clasping about his throbbing cock. It was not enough. Not a fucking lifetime of her would ever be enough.

But there were no guarantees in this life…his mother’s words echoed like the yodeller’s song off the mountain tops. The what-ifs drove him, haunted him, pushed him onwards as he growled into her open mouth like the wounded animal he was. His fingers bore into the soft flesh of her hips as he propelled them forward.

It was not delicate, not soft and tender the way he tried to be with her, but he needed her too much just then to worry about such things. He would give her that and more…later. Maybe much later, but right now, he needed to push these demons aside. To reassure himself that she was here, that she was his…that she always would be. Would always welcome him as she did now.

It was as fast and desperate as he felt. As raw and fuck it…just as needy. And he did not give a gods be damned. He did need this woman. His wife. His woman. His. And at that moment, she was his alone. His.

His fingers sank deeper into the softness of her hips even as his cock sank deeper into depths that were softer still. “Fuck,” he cursed into her mouth as he felt his body betraying him. Gods be damned…not yet…his mind screamed. But her arms only wrapped tighter about his neck. Her moans greeted the thrust of his tongue against hers as she lifted her hips to draw him deeper still.

He fought every fucking instinct inside of him as he drew back. His body screamed out in pain as he slipped from her hot, wet cunt. It cursed him for the fool he was. But he only nibbled at her bottom lip as his hand wrapped about his hard length. He had barely touched himself as the first hot jet erupted and landed on her bare skin.

He bit harder on her lip, sharing the pain he felt at how fucking inadequate it was as he emptied himself. And that was precisely how it felt – so fucking empty. The voice in his head called him a fool, and he nodded in agreement as he drank from the sweet comfort of her swollen lips for several more long moments.

He reluctantly broke the sweet caress of her tongue against his, open and accepting. Her soft lips pressed to the corner of his mouth as he leaned his forehead against hers once more. He tried to smile as he stared into those blue depths.

The pain was undeniable. Tears spilled from the corner of her eyes and trailed down her cheeks even as her fingers in his shoulders clutched and drew him closer. His throat tightened at what he saw there; he had hurt her. The one thing he had sworn never to do. But he had.

Damn it; reason argued…better to hurt her than to lose her. But he could not stand that look in her eyes. He sighed as he shook his head and rolled to lay on the cold, hard ground next to her. He brought his arm up to cover his eyes as he once more, fought back the pain and tears.

He fucking could not risk losing her. Maybe ever. His throat tightened so much that he feared he would never breathe again just at the thought of it. He loved her. He needed her. Too fucking much. But how could he make her understand that?

He was not expecting the hand that wrapped suddenly about his waist. Or the way her soft curves pressed so tightly against his side. But it was the sweet smell of her hair as she laid her head over his heart that was almost his underdoing.

How the fuck could he resist her? How long could he fucking hold out when even though he had hurt her, she still came to him, reached for him, accepted his darkness? He pressed his lips against the top of her head and wrapped his arm about her waist. He held her, just held her as he watched the clouds gathering overhead through the mostly bare branches of the trees.

He was not sure how long they lay there together, half-dressed as the winds began to pick up off the fjord. He knew they should get dressed, make their way back to the house. The place he had always thought of as such a loving and welcoming home. Now he no longer knew what to think.

Her fingers moved to trace just over his heart. She pressed a tender kiss over the spot. Even through the layers of his coat and sweater, he swore he could feel the heat of her breath upon his skin, melting the coldness that had wrapped suddenly about it.

But that heart stopped, froze as surely as this land soon would when she looked up at him and whispered a single word, “Why?”


Kirsty breathed deeply and forced as much of a reassuring smile as she could as she re-asked the question to which she already knew the answer, “Why, Bjⱷrn?”

He closed his eyes once more. His handsome face scrunched in pain that she ached to ease. His answer was barely audible, “I can’t lose you. I can’t.”

Her arm tightened about him. His honesty always touched something deep inside her. She sighed as she just held him for a long moment. “In case you have not noticed, sweetie, I am not your mother.”

Her throat tightened as it always did when she thought about her body, especially with Thor, but this time she tried her damnedest to joke as she reached down to slap her bum. “These ought to be good for something. Childbearing hips my friend Roz used to call them.”

He opened his eyes and shook his head, “Stop it, right now, Kirsty. We had this conversation, my dear wife, no more with putting yourself down. Understood?”

She nodded and turned her face into his broad chest as she placed a kiss over his too-soft heart. “Yes, Master,” she whispered at that tone. Even in his pain, she came first.

“No, sweetheart, how many times do I have to tell you? Master has nothing to do with it.” He brushed her hair back out of her face.

Her breath caught at the realization that even now, it was he who comforted her. “Just a husband, your husband, who is very much in love with his wife.”

“And a wife that loves her husband just as much. So why, Bjⱷrn? Why did you pull out?” She stammered over the words.

For all that they had done – all of them -the truth was that before her husbands, she had been practically a virgin. In some ways, more so than he had been. She was still more than a bit uncomfortable talking about such things. But talking about them was the only way forward.

“Even if you don’t,” she blushed and had to look away before she could continue. She sighed and screwed up her courage, “Do you think that will stop Svein?”

She swallowed pain that was still painfully fresh and fought back the tears at its reminder, “I am a broodmare to your brother. An incubator for his son is all I am to that man. So answer me this – if, and I am not for a moment given any credence to your concerns, but if something did happen to me, would it matter whose baby it had been?”

“Because short of killing your brother, or…”

She shook her head, no, it honestly was not an option she wanted to think about. Even as much as she loved this man, she knew that if…there would always be something missing. Some part of herself, however, small already belonged to Mikael. And damn him to Helveti, even Svein.

“You cannot stop him. So, what real difference would it make whether it was his child or yours?”

She felt him stiffen at the harshness of her words. But he was the one who had said they should have no secrets between them and as hard as this was for both of them, it was the only way now.

“You above all others know the other of side it. You know that one of my biggest regrets of the six years I spent with Raj was wasting time on my biological clock. You know I want a baby.”

She inhaled deeply as she turned his head to face her. “And while this life,” once more she stammered over the words, “it may not allow me total control over whose. It is yours I want. A child conceived not out of duty or need, but in love. Are you willing to deny me even that chance, Bjⱷrn?”

His eyes looked towards the clouds that were growing darker by the moment. She saw the unshed tears glistening in them, and for a moment, she feared that she had pushed too far, been too honest. When he spoke, at last, his voice was barely more than a whisper. She strained to hear it over the wind that howled through the trees.

“I know what you say is true. I get that. But,” he paused and drew her even tighter against him. His smile was forced, “I need time. Time to think it all through. Time to come to terms with everything.”

He shook his head, and she saw him lose the battle as a single tear spilled from the corner of his eye. “Do you know how many fucking times I asked Mama for a baby brother or sister?”

“Do you have any idea how it feels knowing that every fucking time I did, I was hurting her all over again? I never understood then. Why she would get quiet and that look on her face. It all makes perfect sense now.”

Kirsty tightened her arms about his waist, “Bjⱷrn, that was your mother’s choice. Hers and your fathers. It was her sacrifice to make, for right or wrong. She did what she thought was best for you. It is what any mother would do.”

He shook his head, “Not any mother.”

She frowned, thinking not only of the woman who had abandoned the precious little girl that in a matter of days had already captured her heart. She remembered too her own mother. Would Nancy Dickens have made such a sacrifice for her? Something told Kirsty that she would not.

“But yours did, and that is what matters, Bjⱷrn. Now you have choices to make. Do we fight to make this work, or do we let things over which we had no control, control us?”

He nodded as he looked down at her. “As I said, I know you are right. Honestly, that is what I want too. To see your body ripen with a child. Yes, mine.” Still, he frowned and shook his head, “But knowing that not only did my birth almost kill my mother but that it destroyed her chance for any more…”

She nodded and lightly caressed his side. Still, she remained silent, offering what support she could. He forced that smile once more as he began again, “I do not deny that you are right about everything you say, but as I said, I just need some time.”

She nodded her head slowly. The wounds were still fresh. She was probably pushing too much, being unrealistic with her expectations. Was some time too much to ask? But on the other hand, every single day that she gave him put his brother at a distinct advantage in the fucking ‘sperm wars’ as Mikael called them. Since he had already abdicated the playing field, now Bjⱷrn was too. They were handing her over to Svein.

She forced another smile until her face ached as much as her heart. “Yes, time. As long as you promise me, we will keep talking. Don’t shut me out. I want to be there for you.” She shook her head again, “No, I need to be there for you now, every bit as much as you would be  for me. So, do we have a deal, my beloved husband?”

He bent, and his soft lips brushed hers, robbing her of all senses, even the air in her lungs. The kiss that started soft and comforting soon ignited into one of intense need. By the time they finally broke apart several long moments later, her body was aflame once more. As she looked down, she realized that he was hard once more.

“Besides, someone keeps telling me that I need to learn to suck cock.”


Bjⱷrn smiled at her as his fingers tightened in her hair, “And that, my sweet Freya, is why I love you so fucking much.”

The way that her body trembled and shook in his arms enflamed him. He needed to possess this woman completely. To control her – all of her.

He moved his mouth until it brushed just against her ear. He fought back temptation, his hands remaining about her waist. He touched her nowhere else. He lowered his voice. “Come for me, my sweet Freya.”

Her whole body bowed against him. Her screams rent the silent forest around them. And he did not give a damn who might hear as he drew back to observe her better.

Her head was thrown back, those blue orbs closed. “Open your fucking eyes, Kirsty. Open them for me, baby. Open them just like you always open those soft thighs, that tight cunt for my cock. Open for me, my sweet Freya.”

Her fingers clutched tighter at his biceps, but her obedience was instant. Her mouth formed a perfect O as she clung to him…helpless, lost in the power of her release, the orgasm that his voice alone gave her. The orgasm that he alone could. It was the headiest of drugs – that kind of control over the woman he loved.

“Who do you belong to, Kirsty?” His fingers wrapped in her hair, drew her head back to look deeper into her eyes and soul. “Who owns you, Baby?”

He knew he was crossing a line. One he had no right to. But, damn all the gods in Asgard, he did not give a fuck. He needed her. He loved her. She would always be more to him than she could ever be to them. She was his. His choice. His woman. His wife.

“Whose, Kirsty?” he growled as he pulled tighter until tears shone in those eyes. He saw her throat moving, but her words were barely audible. Her body still writhing in ecstasy. He lowered his head, focused his all on her words.

“Yours,” she breathed as she clutched his arms until he felt her short nails biting into the muscles.

His mouth covered hers as he captured and conquered her. His lips burned and branded hers. He was determined to erase all else from her mind. To purge his brothers’ touch from her. To delete them and the whole fucking world from her mind. And his.

His fingers imprisoned her head as one hand fisted tighter into her soft hair. But the other had ideas of its own as it mauled and kneaded her breasts. He pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger until she cried out into his mouth. Was it pain? Was it pleasure? Both? He did not give a damn, only that she knew whose touch gave it to her.

“Mine, Kirsty. You are fucking mine,” his hand tugged her body up and over his. “Suck my cock, sweet wife. Suck it until you fucking gag, then take me even deeper. Suck it until I come in that sweet little mouth. Then swallow every last drop of my come.”

He watched the fear sparked in her eyes. And he liked it. Because, alongside that fear was submission, trust, and devotion. He had discovered his drug and was instantly addicted as he forced her head down on his hard, throbbing cock. He was anything but gentle as he used her hair to force her further down it than he would have dared otherwise.

Until at last, she did as he had promised, gagging on it. Still, he did not release her, “That’s right. Now swallow, sweetheart. Swallow and relax your throat. Breathe through your nose.”

He smiled as he felt the tension that had been strumming through her body relax, just the tiniest little bit. He used it to lift his hips and force another half an inch down her throat until he felt her tense and begin to gag again. “Come for me, my sweet Freya,” he commanded in a voice so guttural that even he did not recognize it.

Her body bowed, and her eyes flew open as another powerful orgasm, the second in as many minutes, overcame her. Her face turned almost as flaming as her hair. She struggled to breathe between the twin sensations of her orgasm, and his cock shoved deep in her throat. Her throat relaxed a bit more in that instant.

Relaxed, just enough for him to begin sawing in and out of her sweet mouth. He used her hair to guide her head up and down his cock as his hips pounded out a rapid beat against her face. He set the tempo. He guided her. He used her. Without apology as she fluctuated between gagging and slurping at his cock.

He had had better blow jobs…technically. His beloved wife was not ready for making a porn, but that did not matter. He had never enjoyed one more. She pleased him for one reason: she surrendered all control to him, and that was what he wanted, needed, more than anything just then.

If his world was spinning out of control, had morphed into some unknown parallel universe where brothers fought over and lusted after their woman, where everything he thought he had known was called into question, at least he controlled this. The only thing that truly mattered. He commanded his wife, his woman. And that was all that mattered.

He fought for control of another kind – self-control. As he tried to deny his body the release that it craved. But the tingling in his balls only grew worse as he felt them rise, knew there was no holding back. Instead, he slammed his hips upwards even as he drove her head down. Impaling her face on his hard cock until he cried out as each spurt of his hot come made its way down her gullet.

“Swallow it all. Drink my jizz. Suck me dry,” he cried out as he kept pumping mindlessly at her face. His orgasm seemed just to roll on and on as he guided her head up and down on his cock. “Take it all, baby,” he whispered as he felt the last bit drain from the tip of his cock into her mouth.

He was reluctant to release her as he stared into those wide eyes once more. “Good girl,” he growled. “That’s my fucking good girl,” he groaned as he pulled her up by the hair to lay once more by his side.

He knew there was a storm moving in fast. He knew he should get them home. Knowing was one thing. Finding the energy and the will to face what lay back there was another. As he drew her tightly against his body and kissed the top of her head, he whispered, “My good girl,” once more before opening his coat and wrapping her in it.

His brothers be damned. Traditions be fucked. At that moment, lying there with her in his arms was all that was fucking real. And he was not ready to release that fantasy just yet. Even less prepared to share her with any of them.

In the end, he forced himself to pick her up and carry her to the small shelter that had once been their fort. His and Mikael’s, even occasionally Svein, when he was home with their fathers. They had all played here together.

He lifted a couple of the fallen logs back into place, then cuddled into the corner with her, wrapped them both in his coat, and waited out the storm. Together. The way it should be — the two of them against the world. Against the gods themselves as Thor pounded Mjölnir and thunder broke the silence.

He had all he wanted then. He had her. All to himself.

One thought on “Chapter 9 – Shelter From The Storm

  1. I am enjoying this as much this time as I did the first, maybe more because of the subtle changes you’ve made. Kudo’s to you and your story telling skill!!!

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