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Copyright © Leah Grant 2015. All Rights Reserved, Evernight Publishing
He was still hard and ready. Riikka wanted to reach down and take hold of his swollen manhood, but there was no way she’d distract him now that she was getting some answers.
“Why do you think I have another question?” All innocence. She could use her eyes to her advantage when she chose to.
He pursed his lips, and Riikka watched as he tried to keep a straight face.
“You aren’t the least bit curious about the tattoo on the back of my neck? The raven, the sword and the sail?” He slipped his finger under her chin, lifting it, those eyebrows of his lending his expression to serious.
“Okay, you caught me. Of course I want to know why you have it and what it means.” She took his hand, moving it so that it lay over her heart.
“Your heart is going so fast! Why is that?” Those eyes of his were igniting her again. The pulse of desire beat strong between her legs.
“Tell me about your tattoo. Please,” she added softly, hoping to cajole him.
“It has to do with my family. When I was young, a raven saved me when I was lost at sea. I’d done something that changed the course of my life. The markings remind me of that time.”
“A raven saved you? I don’t get it.” By telling her just a little, he’d made her want to know so much more.
“That is enough for now. I will tell you more in my own time.” When she took his hand and brought it to her mouth, he sucked his breath in.
“Riikka?” His gaze bore into her.
She took his middle finger into her mouth, teasing.
“Careful, wife. That is deep water. You’d better know how to swim,” he growled.
“What if I don’t? What if I need you to save me?” She played her tongue on the very end of his fingertip.
“Then I’ll be the whale that swallows you whole. I’ll consume everything that is you.” The hunter emerged and Riikka lay back, fondling her breasts, wanting to push him right over the edge.
“If I’m inside the whale’s belly, won’t I still drown?”
“Yeah, but it will be a good death.” He winked and in seconds was down the bed, pushing her legs apart.
“I have a longer tongue than Leif,” he muttered from between her soaked thighs, “and a longer sword.”
“Prove it,” she challenged.
When the hot, wet length of his tongue speared up and into her, Riikka didn’t bother to tell him he was right.