Passion on the grassy bank

With a groan of passion Randy swept Charlotte into his strong arms, his mouth still pressed to hers as she held his head firmly in her hands. He climbed the steep bank with three great strides and collapsed onto Charlotte pressing her soft body into the fragrant grass that lined the bank of the creek. All his strength and resolve disappeared, he wanted nothing more than to claim this beauty and make her scream in wonder and joy as he thrust into her.

Ever since he first bound Charlotte's wrists with the braided leather straps the desire to take her was strong. There was something primal about the action, a man capturing a woman and leading her bound and helpless to his home. When she fled from his grasp, nearly succeeding in her attempt, his hunter's instincts were inflamed again and hers as well apparently, because the kiss they shared was one of complete passion.

As they rolled on the ground he pulled her dress from her shoulders exposing her white breasts and the modest golden cross that lay between them. Hungrily his mouth found her teats and instead of protesting Charlotte held his mouth to her glistening chest relishing the feel of his tongue licking the river water from her tits. Her nipples were swollen and hard, perhaps from the cold water, but more likely from the heat that burned in her core.

Charlotte knew that she was indulging in a grievous sin, but she could not find the will to stop the **** on her senses. Every nerve in her body was on fire and her soul screamed in need, nothing in her experience had prepared her for her body's betrayal. Not the veiled references of her now married childhood friends about their wifely duties; certainly not her Aunts who only told her that when she was married her husband would share her bed and that he would do things to her and that she must endure them. Not even Charlotte's secret collection of romances gave her even a hint of the unquenchable need that burned in her belly.

The heat and taste of Charlotte’s swollen breasts did nothing to satisfy Randy's burning need for her body; if anything her willing response to his plundering of her bosom only aggravated the need he had to bury himself deep between her legs. Unfortunately multiple layers of soggy material stood between him and his goal. As he feasted on Charlotte's perfect mounds of flesh his hands worked at baring her legs, soon he had the soggy skirt of her dress pulled high on her thighs, but another layer of clothing kept his hands from stroking the soft skin of her thighs. Her ridiculous ruffled leggings covered the soft skin of her legs and the drawstring that held the garment to her waist eluded his fumbling fingers.

He had her. The only daughter of his sworn enemy, wiggling under his demanding body and moaning with obvious lust, but his fingers reaching high under her skirt could not find the release that would open his way to her treasure. Worse than that he realized in frustration, even if he released and pulled down her leggings, their tight fit would not allow him to pull them over her boots. For one brief moment he considered using his belt knife to slice through the whole soggy mess. To slice through the yards of fabric wrapped around her wet legs, the ruffled hose under that and her stockings as well, God knows what other layers he might find between him and the prize he seeked.

With a grunt of anger, frustration and need, Randy rolled off of Charlotte and laughed at his own incompetence. His Viking forefathers must be shaking their heads in shame in the great feast hall of Valhalla at his inability to take just one maid, and a willing one at that. The image amused him more than it should have and he burst into a fit of laughter that he could not control.

He was laughing at her! As Charlotte slowly recovered from the **** on her senses she realized that the scoundrel was mocking her and her passionate surrender to his brutal attack. The fire that seconds before threatened to burn her from within turned to a bitter ache, suddenly Charlotte was cold and alone and her brave front crumpled. The tears which she had held back since Copper had thrown her from his back came out now in great heaving sobs. She clasped her arms to her chest, covering the breasts that were too small and ugly to please even a common outlaw like Black Brand, Charlotte buried her red face in the coolness of her soggy skirt and cried in waves of gut wrenching emotion.