That Time She Broke Her Viking's Curse by Erin St Charles

Author:Erin St Charles [Charles, Erin St]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781732395978
Publisher: Erin Martin
Published: 2020-06-20T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

Auntie

This motherfucker. This crazy motherfucker.

He's kissing me. Not only that, he grabbed my hair to do it. I guess women of the Viking Age didn't mind rando dudes grabbing their hair? Maybe he feels free to do it because he's just that much of an asshole. Clearly, this fool is used to fair-haired, thin-lipped village females, not black chicks from Ohio.

I push at his chest and find it is a solid wall of muscle and sinew. My efforts to get him to release me are futile. I realize all my memories of our last kiss, as well as the erotic dreams and fantasies that kiss inspired, are entirely accurate. I had told myself in the many months since our last encounter that my memories of our kiss were overblown, partly due to the dry spell my niece Jasmine mentioned in her tirade. In eighteen months, I had convinced myself that the kiss Gunnar and I shared grew in sensual promise due to him leaving me abruptly. Leaving me hanging.

I had spent far too much time thinking about this dude, and after eighteen months, the inappropriate thoughts were just starting to decrease in frequency. If they were only inappropriate thoughts of a sexual nature, I would actually be okay with that. That would be normal, after all. I am a hot-blooded woman entering her sexual prime. But my inappropriate thoughts were more of a relationship-building variety. I found myself wanting to know more about him.

What was it like to live in the Viking Age? What were some of the more interesting matches you've made? Is Gunnar your first or last name?

The more I thought about such things, the more depressing thinking about him became. Gunnar is the epitome of the Unavailable Male. Having relationship thoughts about him is actually much worse than having sex thoughts about him.

So, do I offer anything more than a token resistance to his possessive face sucking? No, I do not. Instead, when he does not let me go, the hands that had been pushing him away now grab at his t-shirt to bring him closer. The eighteen months of separation from this man, my own drought in the man department, and frankly, Jasmine's liberal use of sexually suggestive language have created a perfect storm that makes groping and pawing him desperately seem like a reasonable choice.

A moan hums in my chest and erupts in my throat. My body grinds against his. He breaks the kiss, and I can catch my breath. He whispers in my ear.

"I know you missed me," Gunnar says, his voice deep and more guttural than usual. "I missed you too, Elskan."

"You didn't come back," I say. I have no reason to care that he didn't return for more than a year. I sound like a middle schooler with a crush. I had known him for less than a week when he kissed me and told me he was coming back, presumably, for me.

"You made my heart come alive eighteen months ago," he breathes in my ear.

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