BOUND BY THE VIKING, PART 3: CONSUMED
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As if seeing her family slain and her home burned wasn’t enough, Aislin has been made the viking chieftan’s thrall, and must follow his every command if she wishes to survive long enough to make her escape back to her home–the emerald isle.
Alrik doesn’t just want a slave girl, though–after seeing her family’s crest among the spoils of war, he vows to make her his bride, and to dominate her sexually and mentally, until she submits to him, giving him her maidenhead on their wedding night. And what’s more, he vows to make her love him, although the very sight of him fills her fiery heart with a longing for revenge.
As the day of the wedding dawns, and Aislin plots her escape, she can think of only one thing–resisting the gorgeous viking alpha’s incredible hold over her. The way he makes her feel, even while humiliating her by pleasuring and teasing her in front of his men, is more intoxicating than mead, and more dangerous than sharpened steel.
If she’s to make it back to her homeland, she must resist him. But when the wedding day dawns, a sudden revelation changes everything, turning her plans upside down.
Can Aislin escape the clutches of her titillating master, before he binds her to him forever, or will his domination overcome all of her… including her heart?
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No matter what she did each day, she couldn’t escape this moment. The moment when her master called her forward to serve him. The moment when the hard labor stopped and the humiliation began.
The moment when she began to lose herself… no matter what she did to stop it.
She felt his eyes on her all the way from the front of the hall. His gaze had weight, like he was touching her, laying claim to her, even from a distance. She sucked in a breath, trying to calm her racing heart, and made herself go to him, one foot at a time, not sure if she was dragging herself to her duty, or if his presence pulled her, drew her, unwilling, but unable to fight against his desire.
Her eyes flicked upward as she reached the dais, and she froze, pinned where she stood by his cool, blue stare. His hands were tented beneath his jaw, a cruel smirk playing across his face as he assessed her.
Tonight, he was flanked by Lord Denholm again, but this time, the handsome Englishman dawdled a serving girl on his knee. Her braids dangled over her breasts, exposed, her tunic down around her waist, her rosy nipples peaked like spring buds. Denholm’s hand was buried beneath her skirt, his other hand stroking her throat.
Aislin shivered, remembering his touch the night before… his mouth on her… and the way his skin tasted. The way her cheeks burned with shame as he spent himself onto her belly, even while her body was alight with need…
For the span of a heartbeat, the urge to turn and run almost overwhelmed her, the urge to flee before these men could use her, before her master could humiliate her again in front of hall. Before he could drive her mad with his touch again, playing her body like a harp until every part of her rang out in song.
Before she begged him to do just that, to take her to that dark, wicked place where she forgot everything else but the feel of his body on hers.
Before he broke her.
The moment passed, and she made her way toward Alrik. She stopped at his feet and bowed her head, waiting for his command.
“You look frightened, little girl,” he said. “Aren’t you happy to see your master?”
Aislin lifted her eyes and bit her tongue, willing away the black words that sprung to mind. The tears that she longed to shed, but instead trapped deep inside. The men were already in their cups, and the chief’s eyes shone with an eerie light. There was hunger there, yes, she was certain, but something marred it.
Something she’d never seen before.
“I am happy, Master,” she said.
He stroked his chin, watching her carefully. The girl on Denholm’s lap squealed as he kissed her neck, his hand working between her legs. The sight of them made Aislin’s sex throb uncomfortably, a heat growing inside of her, despite her discomfort watching the two so close. So unashamed.
So, it’s not just the Vikings who are the barbarians. All these men are, these Lords and Chiefs, who scourge our lands.
She noticed the twist of Alrik’s lips as he looked at his companion, then back to her. She bit her lip, and his eyes traveled to her pink mouth, darkening as he watched her. He licked his lips.
“Does it bother you, thrall? Seeing the man you pleased so well last night, toying with another?”
“N-no, my Master. Whatever his wish is…”
Alrik moved faster than a viper, his arms darting out, pulling her onto his lap violently, spreading her legs over his lap until she straddled him, her face so close to his, they shared breath.
“Whatever my wish is, little girl.”
He bit her lip, and she let out a breathy moan, fear and arousal battling within her. His teeth dug in, marking her, but before she could cry out, he pulled back, gripping her chin in his powerful hand.
“You please me. And if it pleases me to give you to another, then that is my pleasure you seek, when you obey my will.”
She felt his cock beneath her, already hard as stone and pressing upward, seeking her heat.
The last word was a whisper, his eyes locked on hers, daring her to do anything other than submit to him–to give herself over completely to his will… To tell him that she sought anything else but his pleasure. Always his pleasure…
His hips ground upward, sending a ripple through her–a thrill straight to her core.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Master.”
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