Free Her Lord and Master by Alexa Cole Page B

locking eyes with her. When she realized what he was doing, her eyes went wide, and her face invented a new color of red to blush.
    He lathered the soap between his palms, until it was white and frothy. Audaciously, he pulled on his spear until it grew longer. Elizabeth gulped dryly.
    He was touching himself!
    Ostentatiously, he skimmed his hand all the way down the shaft. She gasped. It was so big it stood clear out of the water. He ran his hand back up to the top. She couldn’t pull her eyes away. It grew thicker, and seemed to dance, as she watched. Once, twice, again, he repeated the vulgar motion, his eyes never leaving her.
    Suddenly, she didn’t even want to look away. She wanted to get closer. He pulled the skin all the way down, revealing a smooth, shiny head. She wanted to watch; she wanted to touch it. He pulled upward, and the head disappeared. She wanted to hold it and caress it, just like he was doing. He continued rubbing himself up and down with long, smooth strokes. She couldn’t move forward, yet couldn’t flee either. She stood spellbound.
    A bead appeared at the tip, and her mouth watered.
    “Kom her, Elizaveta,” he encouraged her.
    Elizabeth came shakily to her feet. She took one step towards the tub. He knew she wanted to join him. It was written all over her body. Her neck flushed prettily, and she exhaled in charming little puffs. She just needed him to tell her what to do, to teach her heart what her body already knew, to seduce her so she would not feel culpable for what was about to transpire.  
    Ragnor continued his lewd show, guessing correctly her curiosity would soon override her caution. He pumped faster, just enough to arouse her interest, but not enough to frighten her. His mission was to calm her fears and pique her curiosity, not scare her entirely out of her wits, he thought. If she saw him roaring like a lion, shaking like an earthquake, shooting his cream like a geyser, she would run out of the tent shrieking.
    At least right now she would. Later, she would be doing precisely the same herself, he laughed.
    Another spurt of cream trickled from his manhood, and he saw her actually lick her lips.
    “Elizaveta.”
    This time, she came right up to the edge of the tub. He was close enough to touch her, but he didn’t. He wanted her to come to him . He wanted to know every action she took this night was of her own accord. Well, that was not exactly true, he thought. The fact that there were six berserkers outside the door, and two hundred of the world’s most fearsome Vikings just beyond them, might bias her slightly to give in to his cause. Nonetheless, he wanted her to find pleasure of her own volition to the furthest extent possible. She was already well on her way without need for coercion, he knew.
    He thought about giving her the soap, so she could wash his chest and shoulders. He knew her hands would feel wonderful on his back. Maybe she would even be courageous enough to touch his member, perhaps even give it a squeeze. Mayhap she would climb right into the water with him, and ride him like a stallion, he thought. The vision it conjured in his mind almost made him spill his seed right in the water like a novice. But he was no novice when it came to women. He was an expert in every way.
    Instead, he stood and stepped out of the tub, directly in front of her. This was not time for haste; it was a time for patience. He knew his efforts would pay dividends tenfold, when she went mad with pleasure in his bed, and begged him for more, day after day, year after year. He spread out his arms for her to dry him.
    She hesitated.
    “Do it,” he commanded in English.
    Shaking, she obeyed.
    Elizabeth started with his back, and dabbed him dry tentatively. She wiped his magnificent shoulders and sleek sides, avoiding his tight, round buttocks, even with her eyes. They looked like two golden, delicious honey buns, waiting for her to sink her teeth right in them.
    When she could postpone it