Chapter 19: Conquered Bodies
I watch as Lysa is shadow-boxing on the mirror and my jaw clenches. For three days now it is all she does. She trains for hours, runs for even more, eats and then falls on the bed we share exhausted. She lets me gather her to me and sleeps in my arms but she is so distant that I don’t probe further even if my body wants her more than anything. She needs her space and I will give her anything she needs.
“Left, right, right,” I order and she does as I ask.
“Good,” I nod at her through the mirror.
She glances up to my reflection and for a second her hard expression melts into something deeper. She wants me the same way I want her, with a deep-seated need that consumes both of us. But it only lasts for a few seconds ’cause she fights it more fiercely than she spars. Her whole body shakes and she barely holds back a whimper. Guilt. I can wait. I will cause she’s worth the fucking wait. And I’ll have only cold showers till she lets me back in.
“Ready for some sparring?”
“What do you have for me this time?” she heads for the ring.
Right on cue, Ironhand comes in. He is a big, silent motherfucker. Tor’s father brought him in when Ironhand was 17 years old after a big run up in Canada to the then new chapters there. I was 8 at the time and in my eyes, he was nothing short of a giant. As a prospect, Ironhand usually was mine, Tor’s and Bjorn’s babysitter taking us to school and shit. And he was scary even back then. Taller than all of us still, he grew to be a fearsome fucker of few words and loud actions.
If it wasn’t for that constantly quiet, gruff and discouraging disposition, me and Tor would have a difficult job getting all the pussy. Cause the Cree walking up to the ring is a good-looking motherfucker with exotic, rare looks. Long straight hair, strong jaw, fleshy lips, pitch black eyes and built like a hulk. That’s the main reason I eye him warningly. My woman.
“Ironhand?” Lysa asks.
“Yeah,” I walk in the ring along with my brother. “He’s Cree and he practices Okichitaw, a Native American martial art.”
“OK,” Lysa eyes the giant before her.
And I study her. At 6′6″ Ironhand towers over Lysa that will have a hard time even connecting a punch to his jaw. He is heavy, a lot heavier than any of us but there isn’t an ounce of fat on his body. Lysa is looking at him without fear and I am proud of her till I catch a glint of appreciation in her eye. She likes him? I am ready to end this, take her to the room and show her who she belongs to. I have never been jealous in my life but seeing Lysa taking Ironhand in, I feel a possessiveness I didn’t know I was able to feel. But soon Lysa is in her fighting stance and her look is nothing less than cold and determined. Much better.
“OK,” I walk away. “Fight.”
“You sure this is the right way to work me up to the fights?” Lysa throws at me when I end the sparring session.
I frown at her. Did she actually expect to do some real damage on Ironhand? I have seen the man take a bullet and keep on fighting. And yet she has gotten some good kicks in, avoided each and every handle Ironhand threw at her and used her speed and size to her advantage. And when she climbed on his shoulders, she would have done some serious harm if this wasn’t sparring.
“You are fucking phenomenal, Lys. If you survive my brothers, there’s nothing that asshole can throw at you.”
“I doubt there is another human being as fucking huge as Ironhand so I guess I am on the clear. Thanks, man,” Lysa turns to Ironhand.
“Anytime, Lysa,” he lifts his chin. “You good. Real good, woman.”
What the fuck? Ironhand barely talks to me. He was closer to Bjorn when we grew up and that made sense. Bjorn was the eldest of us three and nearly as tall as Ironhand. But to the rest of us he has said few words and that after years of fighting next to each other. And he just talked to Lysa. My Lysa. In a full sentence.
Is this how my brothers felt seeing me with their women? Like a volcano threatening to erupt any minute, like a sharp pain in the stomach? I get between them with my back against Lysa, facing my brother, warning him off, bare teeth and all that jazz. Possessive much? Damn right I am possessive and I am not ready to back down any time soon. All Ironhand does, though, is lift his chin, throw one last glance at Lys and walk away.
“Maybe you are right,” I growl. “This was a bad idea.”
I hear Lysa chuckle behind me. It’s not that she was a smiling, giggly girl before, but these last days she never even smiled. I turn and look upon her face. All my anger is gone and I smile back like an idiot. God, I am so fucking pussy-whipped. And the worse thing is, I enjoy every damn minute of it.
“Damn right I am,” I won’t hide from my own goddamn feelings. “I don’t like others even looking at you. You are mine.”
Lysa’s eyes widen to the point her irises turned pitch black. I want her, I want her so much I am going to self-combust if I don’t touch her. I know she is in pain, her father held away and have Tyr knows what kind of things done to him. But I am a selfish, arrogant bastard and I want her.
“I know I’ve been...” Lysa looks away, “...distant. Maybe I should leave and let you...”
I am done talking, I am done playing it good, I am done keeping my distance to give her time. If Lysa thinks that I am into fucking anyone else that isn’t her, she has another thing coming.
I grab her and throw her against the wall. Before she has time to react, I tear her sports bra leaving her bare from waist up. She is covered in sweat and her smell is so intense I groan loudly into her neck. My hands move frantically till I palm her breasts and pinch her ready nipple to cause pain and pleasure at the same time.
“Vik,” there’s desperation and want in her voice.
“I am going to fuck you, Lys. Hard.”
She says nothing, just grinds against me to let me know she wants me to. I scoop down taking her shorts and underwear along with me. Then I pull her up, her eager nipple aligned to my mouth, her already wet core, rubbing on my stomach. This is going to be fast and merciless. Three days without her and I am starving. Lysa must be feeling the same as her fingers caress my lower abs, her nails raking my skin. I suck in one rosy nipple and bite lightly while her hand goes down and fists my throbbing cock firmly.
“Fuck, Lys,” I let out “You on the pill? Clean?”
“I am but...”
“I got tested, Lys. I would never hurt you. Never. I’m clean and I want inside of you.”
She twines her strong legs around me and leans in, her eyelids heavy. She says nothing, just licks my lips and moves the hand she has tightly around me. For a second, I relish the feel of her being in control, kneading my flesh, teasing me. But then I am spurred to action, cupping her ass and bringing her exactly where I need her to be. And I plunge myself in her in one thrust so forceful that the air is sucked out of my lungs. She is so hot and wet I almost come upon impact.
“Yes, Vik! Yes!” she supports herself on my shoulders.
I take her, brand her as mine, conquer every inch of her body. It is not slow and it is not gentle. We fuck mercilessly, taking what we both want and need. My hands rub her flesh to the brink of pain and she digs her nails in mine. I bury my head to her neck and that fucking lemony scent makes me lose it. I pound in her with all I got and I feel her body tighten. She’ll come, she is close and I am right there with her, soaring up higher than I’ve ever been. I search her lips and kiss her madly, biting, licking, sucking.
“Oh, god, yes!” she throws her head against the wall.
I feel her convulse around me tight as a fist and I can’t hold back anymore. I let go and come so hard that I am scared I am going to die, my heart stopping for a second. And that would be the best death, buried in her pussy, her juices coating me, her scent filling me. She holds on for dear life as we come down, my heart clenches at this affection and my soul comes back to my body after the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had. I smile and kiss her nose lightly.
“Skit, bror,” I hear Tor’s voice. “Put a sock on the goddamn door or something.”
I look over my shoulder making sure I cover Lysa’s body. Tor is ready for work out and sports an amused smile on his lips. Anger and possessiveness comes over me.
“If you want to keep that smile, brother, get the fuck out.”
“Ain’t my fault you and your woman are fucking animals,” Tor throws playfully and walks out.
I turn to Lysa and she is smiling wickedly. God, she is perfect. Perfect. I kiss her lips and leave a light peck on the damn sexy birthmark on her cheek. There isn’t an inch of her that doesn’t make me hot.
“He’s right, you know,” she jokes.
“Nope. Just you,” she blurts.
My chest swells. Damn right, princess! I am claiming that woman. As soon as we get Daniel out, I’ll let him know. Mine in bed and bike. My Valkyrie for life. And Lysa will wear my mark on her skin, the Valkyrie astride.