Her husband ceased his railing at once and reached her in two strides. He took her face between his hands. "Sweetheart, it is me who should apologise. I did not mean to shout at you. I swore to you that I would not." He gritted his teeth. "I am justso fucking angry with my fool of a brother. This makes no sense. What was he thinking?"
Similar questions had regaled Mairead since she had heard of Ulfric's intentions and she was no closer to answers now than she had been at the beginning. "I do not know. But, there are likely to be people from Skarthveit arriving here soon. Not everyone wished to go with Ulfric and I said they would be welcomed here. Perhaps we will better understand when we have spoken with those remaining behind."
Gunnar nodded, and since he appeared slightly calmer now Mairead ventured on. "It did sound to me that there was general support for his plans. I think, for the most part, your brother's people were glad enough to follow him."
"I daresay, but it makes no difference. He should have waited until he could speak to me."
Privately Mairead agreed, but there was no point in dwelling on that. "It is done now. We must wait for word from him. Your brother will let us know where he has settled, I am sure. Youwillsee him again."
Gunnar regarded her, his features more pained than she had ever seen them. The scar on his cheek glowed, livid in the firelight. "I hope so, even if it is only to knock some sense back into him. I have already lost my sister, by all the gods I will not lose my brother too!"
"My husband, please come to bed."
"What?"
"Or perhaps you might prefer to remain here. That is quite all right." An idea was forming. Mairead stepped to the outer door and closed it, then dropped the bar on the inside to ensure no one entered. She moved to stand before her husband, then slowly lowered herself to her knees at his feet.
"Mairead, what are you doing?" Gunnar glared at her, his brow furrowing ominously.
She reached for the fastenings on his leather breeches. "It is obvious, is it not. I wish to welcome you home."
"Wife," he growled, "there is no need... Oh, fuck."
He ceased his protests when Mairead freed his cock from within his breeches and wrapped both her hands around it. She stroked the length of his shaft from root to tip, cradling his erection between her palms. She paused to glance up at him.
Gunnar's features had softened, his eyes articulating his need. It was all the encouragement she required.
Mairead leaned forward, the tip of her tongue extended. Delicately, she licked the crown of her husband's cock, as though to test and savour the musky tang of the juices leaking from the slit at the end. He possessed a flavour all his own, she was sure of it. He tasted salty and rich and utterly masculine, an aroma which spoke to her of leather, the saddle, and the tall, swaying pines which covered this cold land she now called home.
Gunnar groaned and wound strands of her hair about his fingers. "Open your mouth wider, Mairead. Let me fuck you there."
She may have started this, but it was clear that she was not to remain in control. As though to press his point, he tightened his grip on her locks to the point of pain. She parted her lips wider, her jaw stretching to allow him access. Gunnar began to thrust, short and shallow initially but his strokes soon lengthened. When she might have angled her head to direct his length into her inner cheek Gunnar held her in place, each stroke driving his cock deeper. He hit the back of her mouth and she gagged. He paused and Mairead swallowed hard, regaining control of her reflexes. She raised her eyes to meet his, saw his eyebrow lift as though seeking her permission to continue. If she were to struggle, to attempt to pull away she knew he would not force her, but she had no desire to do so. She wanted to do this, was determined to offer her mouth if he wanted that.
There was nothing she would not give this dark Viking of hers, were he to ask.
She slowly closed her eyes, the gesture one of contentment, of permission, of acceptance. He caressed her cheek gently, then seized her hair again and drove his cock right to the back of her mouth. Mairead's throat opened to accept the intrusion. She breathed through her nose as he filled her throat with his solid cock, her head bobbing back and forth with the power of his thrusts.
Mairead was utterly passive now, perfectly submissive as she yielded to her husband's sensual demands. He fucked her mouth hard, each driving stroke demanding surrender, acceptance, deference to his will. Mairead gave without question, welcoming his dominance and the security it offered.
Gunnar's cock leapt in her mouth. He swore, the sound more akin to a growl than human speech. He plunged deep again, then held still as his semen surged forth to fill her throat. There was so much, gushing again and again. She tried but could not swallow it all. Some escaped to slide down her chin. Mairead ignored that and fought to clear her airway, dragging in ragged breaths through her nose as and when she could. It was enough. She remained still, his cock lodged against the back of her tongue as the final dribbles of his seed slid down her throat. Satisfied and spent, he released her hair and allowed her to relax and move back. Only then did she at last manage to fill her lungs completely
Mairead flexed her jaw, only now realising how much she ached from forcing her lips wide. She swiped her hand across her chin, felt the stickiness there and gathered what she could on her fingers.
"Do you need a cloth? Some water?" His tone was soft now, heavy with sated lust.
She shook her head and started to lick her fingers, each caress of her tongue deliberate and leisurely as though she would take the utmost care not to lose so much as a drop of the precious essence.
He dropped down onto his haunches to meet her eyes. "Such a temptress, my sweet little wife. Who would have thought you had such a wicked way about you?"
She smiled at him, her expression one of secrets shared and intimacies exchanged. "I knewyouto be a wicked and dangerous man, my husband, the first moment I saw you." She lifted her hand to caress his scarred cheek. "So dark and forbidding, but I always knew that you concealed a softness within."
He turned his face to kiss the centre of her palm. "Ah, but are you glad of my wickedness, Mairead? Perhaps just a little?"
"More than a little, my Viking, though I do value your gentler core."
"That is reserved for you, sweetheart. And for our little ones, of course." He lowered his hand and laid his palm over her still perfectly flat belly. "I find I love you even more when you are pregnant, though I would not have believed that possible."
"Do you have matters demanding your attention, Jarl, or might we find a little time to warm our bed together?"
