Wildest Dreams
Page 84
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
“I’m delicious,” I explained.
His grin turned into a smile before he agreed, “That you are, my wee one.”
I leaned in deeper, lifted my hand to stroke his rough jaw and my eyes dropped to his mouth before I whispered, “You’re yummy too.”
I watched his mouth mutter, “Gods,” before it was on mine and he took another morning kiss, this one longer, deeper, wetter and lots better.
Mm. Definitely yummy.
I was clinging to him, one arm wrapped around his shoulders, the other hand in his thick hair when he tore his mouth from mine and slid his lips down my cheek to my ear where he spoke quietly.
“Sadly, I have no time to play this morning, wife. I’m to meet Thad and Kell in five minutes. We make land the day after tomorrow and from there we must make haste. This morning, we finalize plans,” his head lifted and his eyes caught mine, “but after that, I’m free. I’ll hand the wheel to Thad, meet you here and we will lock the door.”
I knew what locking the door meant. So did his men.
Awesome. Something to look forward to.
“But now, I must be away,” Frey went on. “Would you like me to tell Skylar to bring you breakfast?”
At the mention of Skylar, my good morning mood experienced a hiccup.
In the time I was on the ship, Skylar had not gotten used to me. Frey had explained this was because Skylar was the son of one of his men, a man who had unfortunately died during a mission (this, Frey assured me, probably because I sucked in every molecule of oxygen in the cabin and actually felt my face go pale, was a very rare happenstance) which meant Skylar was being raised solely by that man’s wife.
She was not a good woman, a kind one, a fair one, a patient one or, from some of the stories he relayed to me (stories that made my heart hurt), a sane one. Frey had learned that things were going badly for the boy and he’d taken him (yes, taken him, giving his mother no choice and honestly, I was glad of it) and now Skylar served Frey and would do so until he was old enough to make his own decisions.
Therefore, Skylar was gun shy with women and it was no surprise. Also, this meant Frey usually did my talking with Skylar. This was at my request, mainly because Skylar wasn’t getting used to me no matter how kind or soft-spoken I was with him and I could tell I caused him discomfort so I decided to avoid doing that by avoiding him and Frey had agreed to my request.
I wasn’t sure an abused boy should be serving on a ship with a bunch of macho men I had noted treated him like, well, a bunch of macho men and further without the kindness of a woman. What I was sure of was that, if even half the stories were true, he was better off on Frey’s ship with a bunch of brusque men than he was with his mother.
I was also sure I liked Frey even more because he went out of his way to take care of the boy. His care might not be nurturing but it couldn’t be denied it was care.
“Yes,” I nodded, answering his question, “and water to wash.”
“All right,” Frey murmured, leaned in to touch his lips to my forehead then stood, taking me with him and setting me on my feet. Then he looked down at me. “Your plans for the day?”
“Archery practice with Annar then knife work with Lund.”
He shook his head and started chuckling.
I had found my girls had packed some of Princess Sjofn’s shirts, sweaters and breeches and, being me, I tried them out. The first time I had appeared in these garments, I caused quite a stir. This stir caused Frey, standing at the helm, to look to the heavens as if seeking deliverance from his gods. But he didn’t say a word (this, I also liked).
I also heard from Annar that they’d packed my bow and arrow and they did this by giving it to him to pack with his own as it didn’t fit in my trunks. He offered to work with me and I took him up on it. While practicing with the bow one day, Lund showed and offered to teach me how to handle a knife. I took him up on that too. I thought both were important to know, considering Sjofn knew them and even though I would probably never be as good as her considering the amount of practice she had, at least it would provide some cover for I wouldn’t appear a complete amateur should spies be paying attention (and, obviously, they were).
Not to mention, I wanted to learn.
Orion had offered to teach me swordplay and I took him up on that too but found I could barely lift a sword, they were so freaking heavy. No one onboard had one I could wield so we decided to leave it at knife play until they could find a sword I could use.
So while Frey spent his days captaining his ship, planning raids and communing with his brethren (when he wasn’t locked in his cabin with me), I spent my time shooting arrows, dancing around the deck while Lund tried to stab me and playing multiple games of tuble and meerkin while all the men taught me how to cheat (when I wasn’t locked in Frey’s cabin with him, where, if Frey and I weren’t doing other highly pleasant things, Frey also spent time teaching me how to cheat).
In other words, I was having the time of my life.
“Right, wee one,” Frey spoke, his deep voice light with amusement, taking my attention back to him, “after you get finished prancing around on deck with your lovely arse on display in your tight breeches, making certain every single one of my men is lying abed in their hammocks at night with their fists wrapped around their cocks and their thoughts on your arse, then we’ll meet back here this afternoon.”
I blinked up at him and whispered, “They are not doing that.”
“They are,” Frey returned.
“No they aren’t.” I was still whispering.
“Finnie, am I a man?” Frey asked.
“Yes,” I gave the obvious answer.
“Then I know they’re doing that.”
“But,” I protested, “I’m your wife and you said they wouldn’t –”
Frey cut me off. “They won’t stare and they won’t make their interest obvious for this would cause my displeasure. But I do not control their thoughts. They see, what they see is a pleasing image that is burned behind their eyes, so they don’t forget.”
Oh God.
“Maybe I should quit wearing breeches,” I suggested but Frey grinned wickedly and dipped his face to mine.
“You do, my love, then I won’t get to watch you prance around on deck with your lovely arse on display and, fortunately, when I’m abed at night, I have a wife who gladly wraps a number of things around my c**k that are far, far better than my fist.”
Hmm. This was true.
His grin turned into a smile before he agreed, “That you are, my wee one.”
I leaned in deeper, lifted my hand to stroke his rough jaw and my eyes dropped to his mouth before I whispered, “You’re yummy too.”
I watched his mouth mutter, “Gods,” before it was on mine and he took another morning kiss, this one longer, deeper, wetter and lots better.
Mm. Definitely yummy.
I was clinging to him, one arm wrapped around his shoulders, the other hand in his thick hair when he tore his mouth from mine and slid his lips down my cheek to my ear where he spoke quietly.
“Sadly, I have no time to play this morning, wife. I’m to meet Thad and Kell in five minutes. We make land the day after tomorrow and from there we must make haste. This morning, we finalize plans,” his head lifted and his eyes caught mine, “but after that, I’m free. I’ll hand the wheel to Thad, meet you here and we will lock the door.”
I knew what locking the door meant. So did his men.
Awesome. Something to look forward to.
“But now, I must be away,” Frey went on. “Would you like me to tell Skylar to bring you breakfast?”
At the mention of Skylar, my good morning mood experienced a hiccup.
In the time I was on the ship, Skylar had not gotten used to me. Frey had explained this was because Skylar was the son of one of his men, a man who had unfortunately died during a mission (this, Frey assured me, probably because I sucked in every molecule of oxygen in the cabin and actually felt my face go pale, was a very rare happenstance) which meant Skylar was being raised solely by that man’s wife.
She was not a good woman, a kind one, a fair one, a patient one or, from some of the stories he relayed to me (stories that made my heart hurt), a sane one. Frey had learned that things were going badly for the boy and he’d taken him (yes, taken him, giving his mother no choice and honestly, I was glad of it) and now Skylar served Frey and would do so until he was old enough to make his own decisions.
Therefore, Skylar was gun shy with women and it was no surprise. Also, this meant Frey usually did my talking with Skylar. This was at my request, mainly because Skylar wasn’t getting used to me no matter how kind or soft-spoken I was with him and I could tell I caused him discomfort so I decided to avoid doing that by avoiding him and Frey had agreed to my request.
I wasn’t sure an abused boy should be serving on a ship with a bunch of macho men I had noted treated him like, well, a bunch of macho men and further without the kindness of a woman. What I was sure of was that, if even half the stories were true, he was better off on Frey’s ship with a bunch of brusque men than he was with his mother.
I was also sure I liked Frey even more because he went out of his way to take care of the boy. His care might not be nurturing but it couldn’t be denied it was care.
“Yes,” I nodded, answering his question, “and water to wash.”
“All right,” Frey murmured, leaned in to touch his lips to my forehead then stood, taking me with him and setting me on my feet. Then he looked down at me. “Your plans for the day?”
“Archery practice with Annar then knife work with Lund.”
He shook his head and started chuckling.
I had found my girls had packed some of Princess Sjofn’s shirts, sweaters and breeches and, being me, I tried them out. The first time I had appeared in these garments, I caused quite a stir. This stir caused Frey, standing at the helm, to look to the heavens as if seeking deliverance from his gods. But he didn’t say a word (this, I also liked).
I also heard from Annar that they’d packed my bow and arrow and they did this by giving it to him to pack with his own as it didn’t fit in my trunks. He offered to work with me and I took him up on it. While practicing with the bow one day, Lund showed and offered to teach me how to handle a knife. I took him up on that too. I thought both were important to know, considering Sjofn knew them and even though I would probably never be as good as her considering the amount of practice she had, at least it would provide some cover for I wouldn’t appear a complete amateur should spies be paying attention (and, obviously, they were).
Not to mention, I wanted to learn.
Orion had offered to teach me swordplay and I took him up on that too but found I could barely lift a sword, they were so freaking heavy. No one onboard had one I could wield so we decided to leave it at knife play until they could find a sword I could use.
So while Frey spent his days captaining his ship, planning raids and communing with his brethren (when he wasn’t locked in his cabin with me), I spent my time shooting arrows, dancing around the deck while Lund tried to stab me and playing multiple games of tuble and meerkin while all the men taught me how to cheat (when I wasn’t locked in Frey’s cabin with him, where, if Frey and I weren’t doing other highly pleasant things, Frey also spent time teaching me how to cheat).
In other words, I was having the time of my life.
“Right, wee one,” Frey spoke, his deep voice light with amusement, taking my attention back to him, “after you get finished prancing around on deck with your lovely arse on display in your tight breeches, making certain every single one of my men is lying abed in their hammocks at night with their fists wrapped around their cocks and their thoughts on your arse, then we’ll meet back here this afternoon.”
I blinked up at him and whispered, “They are not doing that.”
“They are,” Frey returned.
“No they aren’t.” I was still whispering.
“Finnie, am I a man?” Frey asked.
“Yes,” I gave the obvious answer.
“Then I know they’re doing that.”
“But,” I protested, “I’m your wife and you said they wouldn’t –”
Frey cut me off. “They won’t stare and they won’t make their interest obvious for this would cause my displeasure. But I do not control their thoughts. They see, what they see is a pleasing image that is burned behind their eyes, so they don’t forget.”
Oh God.
“Maybe I should quit wearing breeches,” I suggested but Frey grinned wickedly and dipped his face to mine.
“You do, my love, then I won’t get to watch you prance around on deck with your lovely arse on display and, fortunately, when I’m abed at night, I have a wife who gladly wraps a number of things around my c**k that are far, far better than my fist.”
Hmm. This was true.
