Betraying Her Vikings Page 3

A small smile curved her lips.

  “Congratulations. Ambassador.”

  ᚴᛅᛒᛁᛏᚢᛚᛁ 4

  I wasn’t sure if the Archivist’s bed was going to be big enough for us. It was a double bed, but there were four of us, and the two Vikings weren’t exactly small.

  Butterflies were whirring in my belly. I’d been so confident about this earlier today, but now that we were actually here, crowded in the Archivists studio flat, I was having second thoughts. I’d never done this before, I had no idea what to do. Maybe I should have practised with one of them before taking on all three. But who? How could I ever make that decision? Hjalmar because I’d met him first? The Archivist because he looked the least like he would squash me? Or Asger because I’d already slept with him in a dream and knew how he felt like?

  I focused on that memory, the dream that hadn’t been a dream but a memory from the future. I hadn’t been a virgin in that one. I’d known exactly what to do. I’d been confident. And I’d loved every second of it. That gave me hope that it wouldn’t be so bad. I might be inexperienced but the guys weren’t. They could lead me. Right?

  “Have you done this before?” I whispered as they stood around me in a circle. The tension between us was almost palpable. None of us moved, but the heat in their eyes made me want to take off my clothes.

  Silence followed my question.

  Finally, Asger sighed. “No. Wait for you.”

  Great. One less person who had experience. Although it was incredibly sweet that he had waited for the woman from his dreams. For all he knew, I could have just been a figment of his imagination and he may have waited for nothing.

  “Do I look like a lot of girls would throw themselves at me?” the Archivist asked drily.

  I turned to him and took him in. Really looked at him. His grey eyes that seemed to swirl with smoke. His fine features, his sharp nose. His glossy dark hair. The tense lines around his lips. Those beautiful lips that had felt so amazing on my own.

  “Yes, actually,” I croaked, my voice failing me.

  He chuckled. “Then you’re alone in that. No girls down here, and no girls before I became the Archivist.” The smoke in his eyes became more intense when he stepped forward until we almost touched. “Although I have dreamed of you. Of us.”

  I gaped at him. “Like the dreams Asger had of me?”

  “I doubt it,” he whispered huskily. “Unless Asger broke into your room at night because he couldn’t be apart from you. Unless he climbed in your bed and found you naked beneath your blanket...”

  My face was burning. My entire body was trembling with heat and desire. If just his words could do this, what would his touch do to me?

  “Then it was a dream,” I whispered, meeting his eyes. “I don’t sleep naked.”

  “Such a pity. Maybe we can change that.”

  Maybe. Although he didn’t seem to be aware that I shared a room with Kaycee. His dreams wouldn’t become a reality any time soon, unless my roommate moved out or went on an overnight assignment.

  I tore my eyes away from him and turned to Hjalmar.

  “And you?”

  He shrugged. “It seems like I’m going to be the teacher once again. As much as I would like to say that I stayed a virgin for you, I’m not. Although trust me, if I’d known you’d come into my life, I would have stayed celibate.”

  Fair enough. To be honest, I’d expected all of them to have been with other women. They were older than me, more experienced.

  “You’re a good teacher,” I quipped to get over the tension. “I’ve learned a lot from you already.”

  He grinned. “And I’m going to teach you so much more. Starting with how to be undressed by me.”

  “I can do that myself,” I protested, but his hand were already on my shoulders. “Wait. There’s one more thing I need to do.”

  He looked at me in confusion. “If you’re worried about protection, I’ve got some.”

  I didn’t think my face could get any hotter. Especially when I realised that Hjalmar might have to teach Asger about how to use a rubber. Cringe.

  “No, I need to have a chat with the Archivist,” I hedged. “Give us a moment.”

  I took his hand before he could say anything and pulled him away, towards the bathroom.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked when we were out of earshot.

  I kept hold of his hand. “I told you before. I want to know your name. I can’t be with someone whose name I don’t know.”

  His expression hardened. “I can’t do that. Not even for you.”

  “But why? Why can’t you just tell me your name? If it’s a really horrible one, I promise I won’t make fun of you. I can come up with another one for you. But please, don’t let this secret stand between us.”

  He winced. “I really, really can’t. I took an oath.”

  My eyes widened. “An oath? To keep your name a secret?”

  “No, to give it up for good. When I became the Archivist, I gave up my name. I vowed to become the Archivist, to let go of my previous life. It’s the only way you can take on this role.”

  “I don’t understand,” I whispered. “Why would you have to give up your name for a job?”

  He sighed deeply. “This isn’t just a job. It’s a calling. I can’t quit. I can’t leave. I’m going to be the Archivist until I die or am too old to keep doing this job. It’s the way this Archive works. It becomes your life and you become part of its life.”

  “This is a room of artefacts, not a living being,” I snapped, getting frustrated with him. “I don’t get it.”

  “I should have explained this to you before.” He let go of my hand and turned around, lifting the back of his hair. I stood on my tiptoes to see what he was showing me. There was a strange scar at the edge of his hairline. No, not a scar. A small piece of metal, looking like a part of electronics.”

  “What is that?” I asked, not able to suppress a gasp.

  “My connection to the Archive. The information stored in this place is too vast, too valuable to keep on a normal server. Computers can’t make the intricate connections between an item and its previous owner. The rules of what item to give to what time traveller. They need a human mind. When you become the Archivist, you accept the Archive not just into your life, but into your mind.”

  I was having trouble following him. I’d never come across anything like it.

  “Does that mean you’re a cyborg?” I asked after a while of staring at the scar.

  He laughed and turned around again. His eyes were twinkling with mirth.

  “No, I’m still as human as you. I’m not enhanced in any way... not that I’d need to be.” He winked again. I really needed to tell him not to do that, as cute as it was. “But you need to understand that I can’t give up the Archive. Not even for you.”

  “What does that mean though? Do you have to stay here forever? Can you go on holidays? Retire early? Do they even pay you?”

  Again, he laughed. “Yes, they pay me, although I’ve never had much of a reason to spend my money. I get this flat and as much food as I want as part of my job, and it’s not like my clothes get worn out quickly down here so I rarely have to go shopping. But yes, I can go on holidays. Usually, I combine a research trip for work with a couple of days off. I get to travel in time a lot, to source new artefacts or to try out existing ones, and I like to take a few days to explore and meet the locals.”

  “And visit family?”

  A shadow passed over his expression. “No family. One of the reasons I became the Archivist. There’s nobody who would miss me. Nobody who would hold on to the old me.”

  “Well, I’m going to hold on to the new you, the current you,” I promised, and his smile returned. “But I really want to give you a proper name. I can’t call you the Archivist forever. That’s just weird.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t think there’s a rule that prevents anyone from calling me whatever they want, as long as I stay the Archivist at the same time.”


  “I shall come up with something good. Something pretty.”

  “If you have to. But I have veto rights.”

  I grinned. “Done. I’ll try and find a name that’s universal, one that works across different times. Like James.”

  He pouted. “Not something as boring as that.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll come up with something extraordinary. For now, how about Archie?”

  He shuddered. “Don’t you dare.”

  ᚴᛅᛒᛁᛏᚢᛚᛁ 5

  Two naked Vikings were expecting us, lying next to each other in the Archivist’s bed. There wasn’t going to be any space for the rest of us. I tried to keep my eyes focused on their faces, but I couldn’t resist a quick peek. They were almost the same size, but Asger was hairier. I’d seen him naked before, in our dream, and when I’d talked to him right after we’d shared that dream, but it was different to see him in the flesh. There was a lot of flesh. How did he manage to be so broad without being fat?

  When I’d been in the shed with Hjalmar, it had been dark and I had been far too out of it to take much note of his looks. Now, I regretted that. He was gorgeous. Those toned thighs, his defined abs, ... He was perfect.

  I’d only ever seen men naked on tv, so I’d always thought that once I’d finally be with one for real, I’d be severely disappointed. The opposite was true. They were so much better than all those pretty boys. These were men.

  Hjalmar lazily smiled up at me. “I thought by now you’d have got rid of those clothes.”

  What did he think the Archivist and I had got up to?

  “Archivist, take off her shirt.”

  A shiver ran through me at his husky words. Hjalmar was giving orders now. Was he going to direct us all, set the scene, guide us?

  The Archivist gave me a questioning look and I nodded. My knees were starting to wobble, and I was glad that he was standing right behind me, ready to catch me if I suddenly collapsed. Not that I was planning to do that, but my body was feeling stranger than it ever had before. Everything was so much more intense. My heartbeat pulsed through my veins, bringing heat to my core. Seeing the two Vikings naked in front of me made me wet and ready for them.

  “Arms up,” the Archivist whispered. I did as he said, stretching my arms into the air. He pulled my shirt up and over my head, leaving me in just my bra. The Archivist had given it to me earlier, but it was a little too small and my boobs were spilling over the top.

  He gently put his warm hands on my breasts, rubbing against the bra. I wish he would take it off, but instead, he started massaging my boobs through the silky material. My nipples were hard, aching to be freed and touched.

  “Take it off,” Hjalmar commanded to my relief.

  I actually sighed when the Archivist slid my bra down my arms and let it fall to the floor.

  For a moment, I felt a little exposed. Here I was, half-naked, with three men staring at me as if I was a delicious meal. But then, I bet that was exactly how I was looking at the Vikings. And how I would look at the Archivist once he was naked and on the bed.

  Without waiting for more instructions from Hjalmar, the Archivist put his hands on my breasts again. His skin was soft and warm, and his touch just the right balance between too little and too much. He spread his fingers and took my nipples between them, rubbing against them back and forth.

  I moaned. My breasts had always been sensitive, and when I made myself come, I always kept one hand on them, squeezing as I brought myself to my climax. Having someone else do it was an entirely different feeling though.

  I leaned back, pressing against the Archivist’s hard chest. If he continued like this, I’d be a writhing mess on the floor, unable to keep upright.

  “Take off the rest of her clothes,” Hjalmar ordered. I moaned in protest when the Archivist took his amazing hands off my breasts. My nipples were sore, aching to be touched, to be worshipped.

  “Soon,” Asger chuckled. He was watching me intently, one hand stroking his erection. He was hard, ready, waiting. And big. I’d easily taken him in my dream, but I’d probably slept with him many times before then, I’d been used to his size. Now, I wasn’t. I swallowed at the thought of somehow fitting him inside me. But if women managed to press children out of there, his cock had to fit.

  I’d not seen the Archivist’s shaft yet, but if he was smaller, he was going to be the first. To ease me in gently. I could feel his hardness pressing against my back. He was the only one still fully dressed. Hopefully, that would change soon.

  “Stop thinking,” Hjalmar told me, as if he knew that I was having a hard time bringing my thoughts in order. “Just relax. Go with the flow. We’ll be gentle with you, don’t worry. We’ll go slow.”

  I nodded and relaxed against the Archivist’s hold. He had an arm wrapped around my waist to hold me steady, while he was trying to open my jeans with one hand. When he continued to fumble, I reached down and helped him open the button and pull down the zip. I knew my panties were showing now. The last part of clothing shielding me from their eyes. This was the point of no return.

  I took a deep breath and pulled down my jeans along with my panties, stepping out of them and my shoes as fast as I could. Now I really was naked.

  The Archivist was still pressed against me, the fabric of his clothes reminding me with every touch that he was still dressed.

  “Close your eyes,” Hjalmar said softly. “Let him hold you.”

  With one last look at the two men, both of them stroking their hard cocks, desire sparkling in their eyes, I did as he’d said. I leaned into the Archivist’s body.

  His breath was going fast, brushing against the nape of my neck, tickling me. His erection was hard, large, pressing into my back. I kind of wished I could turn and help him with that, but I knew Hjalmar had a plan for how this was going to play out.

  The Archivist’s hands roamed my body, sliding over my stomach, my chest, my thighs, avoiding the places I really wanted him to touch. When his fingers finally reached the triangle between my legs, I sighed deeply.

  Slowly, he cupped my mound, then started flicking my clit with his thumb. For someone who’d never done this before, he knew exactly how to touch me. This wasn’t hapless fumbling, this was a maestro playing his instrument.

  When he slid a finger between my folds, I moaned loudly. Shivers ran up and down my body, and my skin seemed to be burning with a strange heat that needed an outlet.

  “More,” I whispered huskily, but he didn’t follow my wishes. He kept his finger inside me, but didn’t move, didn’t do anything, didn’t even rub my clit. I groaned in frustration.

  “Give her another one,” Hjalmar ordered and I could have kissed him in gratitude.

  Slowly, a second finger joined the first, stretching me. I could take it, I’d done this before myself, but his fingers were larger than mine and I did notice the difference. When he was fully inside me, he started rubbing my clit again, eliciting rows of tiny moans that tumbled from my lips.

  “I love the sounds you make,” he whispered into my ear. “Don’t stop.”

  I wouldn’t have been able to. I was too far gone already, bound to react to his every touch.

  “Another,” Hjalmar said. His dominant voice totally turned me on. I wondered if he was still staring at me full of lust and desire, but I didn’t dare open my eyes.

  This time, it hurt a little when the Archivist pushed a third finger into me. He was slow and gentle, letting me adjust, while distracting me with his other hand taking hold of my breast. Just what I had needed. Pressure was building inside of me, the combined power of all the touches he was giving me. I was close already. If this continued, I’d come before any of them even entered me.

  “Spread your legs a little,” Hjalmar demanded, and I immediately did as he said. It made the fullness a little more bearable. More pleasant. I had the urge to push forward my hips, moving against the Archivist’s hand, but I just about managed to refrain.

  “Does that feel good?�
�� Hjalmar asked.

  All I could do was nod and moan. I was no longer capable of forming words.

  “Carry her to the bed. It’s time. Lainie, keep your eyes closed.”

  I moaned in disappointment when the Archivist’s fingers slipped out of me. I was empty, too empty. I needed him back. I groaned and turned in his arms, but he held me tight and lifted me up. I clung to his grip until he gently put me down on the bed. Warmth came from both sides. I was lying in between the two brothers. The naked Vikings who were going to make me happy. That thought alone was enough to bring me to the edge.

  The sound of a zipper announced that the Archivist was following suit and getting naked like the rest of us.

  “Do you want to know who’s first?” Hjalmar whispered from my right. “Or do you want it to be a secret?”

  “Secret,” I moaned, surprised at what he was doing. “But I know where you all are.”

  Hjalmar chuckled. “Not for much longer. “Archivist, do you have a scarf?”

  By the time I had figured out what they were doing, a scarf was wrapped around my eyes. I relaxed a little, no longer having to fight to keep my eyes closed. The temptation to peek was gone.

  Hjalmar said something in Old Norse and he and his brother got off the bed, leaving me alone.

  “No,” I muttered. “Don’t leave me.”

  “We’re never going to leave you,” the Archivist promised. “Paper, scissors, stone?”

  That question had to be directed to the other men. Hjalmar whispered some more in Old Norse, then there was only silence.

  A movement in the air warned me moments before someone touched my thighs. I tried to feel if his palms were callused, if it was Asger, but before I could focus my senses enough, something pressed against my entrance.

  There were no more orders from Hjalmar. No more whispered encouragements from the Archivist. I felt them all close to me, but they didn’t reveal who they were.

  Hands cupped my breasts, lips kissed my belly, while a cock was still there, at my very core, ready to push in.

  When lips closed around my nipple, I moaned, and that seemed the signal for them to begin.