He was a good man, an attentive man. I know how lucky I am. But he ate for love when he was with me - which was so very different from the way he was ...evouring the girl on my table. With her, it was an act which bore a greater resemblance to a man long starved of more exotic delicacies. His tongue worked ferociously, desperately, keenly - his groans deeper, hungrier, needier.She came. He made her cum. She wasn’t faking it. A woman knows, regardless of her noisy theatrics. My husband was giving. ’ The braids in Flete’s beard, the handiwork of his latest lover, were rusty with blood. Aelfric’s must have looked the same, if the gore stiffening his own was any measure. But wash his and it would show more gray than black. Flete’s was as flaxen as the day they had met, his chest as broad, his sword as true. And a good thing it was, or the horse would have borne a corpse. Aelfric would die in battle, and with luck, find a place in the halls of the gods, but not yet, not while his son was. More

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