Cockles Of The Heart

Part title

"Woman, what are you doing?"
Turning to look at Halfdan from down on her hands and knees, she pressed her lips together and narrowed her dark eyes. Scowling, she brushed back the loose strands that had fallen free from her tied back hair.
"Your sight is sharp. What does it look like?"
Her tone was cool and her oval face alive with an expression that showed she was not playing.
Turning back, she continued scrubbing the wooden floor with a heavy horse-hair brush and bucket of hot water. The perfect round of her ample behind jiggled and bobbed as she worked the brush hard.
"Vienna, we have thralls for that. Why are you washing the floors?" he asked not able to tear his eyes from her voluptuous figure.
Scoffing, she looked back.
"We have thralls for this? Really. All I have seen are skinny white-haired girls pushing dirt from one end of my kitchen to the other with an old broom."
Huffing, she looked back with a stern look and plunked the brush into the pale, slapping it down onto the floor in a swoosh of water.
The ends of his mustache curled up with a smile as he stepped closer. His soft brown eyes continuing to watch the way her bottom bounced with the heave of her scrubbing; her arms pushing and pulling the thick bristles along the wide planks of the wooden floor. The fabric of her thin was dress sticking to the skin between her shoulder blades, tacky from her vigorous, repetitive work.
Reaching to his pants, he adjusted his responding groin as he slowly stalked around his woman. Always enamored with her fierce passion, he dipped his head down to catch a glimpse of her fiery, southern eyes.
Standing over her, he watched her bend forward, the join of her heavy breasts visible down the front her gaping dress. Gods he loved her curves! Her broad, round hips and soft belly, strong legs and a bust so large, it was surely created for nursing. She was unlike anything he had seen before that day he met her....by chance, weeks after raiding her fishing village with Bjorn in the Mediterranean. The image of her cold, fearful face that day flashed through his mind, standing before him as he attempted to speak her native tongue. With flawless, rich coloured skin and hair so dark it swallowed the sun, he remembered being overcome with apprehension the first time he faced her, seeking her services as a healer for Bjorn. How things had changed, he thought. Never in a thousand lifetimes would he have believed then, that one day, he would know that the rose shade of her bowed lips was the same tone as other more tender parts of her splendid body.
Brushing back the swath of hair covering the side of his face, he sighed to himself, thinking how truly blessed he was by the Gods.
Continuing to circle her, he could not resist lowering onto his knees and crawling forward, scooting up close behind her.
"Halfdeen!" she startled as his hands wrapped around her, pulling her back to rest against his chest.
Closing his eyes, he buried his nose into the back of her swept-up hair, inhaling her scent. After nearly two years, the way she said his name with her thick accent and broken Norse still warmed his body and pulled at his heart.
With one hand holding her lower belly, his other hand slid up her ribs, pushing down the front of the deep neckline of her dress. Grabbing her soft, round breast, his eager fingers found her nipple hard, already reacting to his closeness. Tipping her head toward his chin, she arched into his touch, exhaling loudly as he ran his mustache and the small beard on his chin over the sensitive join between her neck and shoulder.
"You are interrupting me," she murmured in a husky tone.
Pressing his groin into her backside, he dropped his hand from her stomach and pulled her bent knees further apart.
"That is your fault for greeting me home in such a position."
Pulling up the skirt of her dress, he brought his fingers to his mouth wetting them before running his palm up the smooth skin of the inside of her leg. Breathing out a raspy groan, he could not help but grind again into her backside.
"Someone will see," she whispered toward his ear.
"What could be more beautiful than you cleaning the floors?" he chuckled.
"Halfdeen!" she exclaimed, whimpering as his fingers hit her core, sliding along the soft skin of her slightly parts folds.
Smiling against her neck, he ran his tongue along her collarbone softly biting and sucking while pulling and kneading her full round breast. Pressing the tips of his fingers into her opening he pulled her slick back and circled her special spot making her shudder in response.
His mind began to spin, overcome by her effect on his senses. He loved this woman with everything that he was and could never tire of the feel of being inside her. As long as he could remember, his family set their efforts on his older brother with a bloodline to the throne. As a result, he headed out into the vast world seeking new shores, wonder, and mystery. Knowing, with Vienna pressed to his body, that she was, and would always be his most meaningful adventure.
Sinking his middle finger inside her, his other hand pulled at the laces of her dress searching for more of her olive-toned skin. Placing her own hand over his, she pushed his palm hard against her opening, rocking against his hand. Leaning away, he snaked his hand down between them, attempting to yank open the front of his breeches.
"Let me," she breathed, pushing his hand away, and spinning to sit between his legs.
Leaning back to rest on his elbows, he watched her open the front of his bulging pants and free his rock-hard member.
With a coy smile, she bent forward and swirled her tongue around his head, coating his tip with her saliva. Slowly, she ran her rose coloured lips up and down his length, her tongue focussing on the soft seam along the bottom. Resting on one hand, she brought her other hand up and grazed the underside of his balls. Hissing, he squeezed his eyes closed as she gently tugged the fragile skin.
Taking more of him into her mouth, she closed her own eyes finding a slow, firm rhythm. Softly flexing his hips in time, he brought a hand up, cupping her cheek, holding back the dark hair from her beautiful face.
"I love you, Vienna," he whispered watching himself slide in and out of her warm, wet mouth. "but you need to slow, or I will not be able to make..."
Before he could finish his words, she brought her hand up from his balls to grip her thumb and fingers firmly around his base and began pumping his throbbing length up and down in time with her slippery mouth.
"Fuck," he growled, grimacing his face and bucked his hips up toward her relentless mouth. "I am going to..."
Increasing her pace, she dropped further down each time so his tip hit the back of her relaxed throat. With frantic breath, a warm tingle started deep in his groin. One loud grunt and Halfdan squeezed his eyes shut and thrust, shooting warm spurts of his salty seed deep into her mouth. As his legs shuddered, he dropped his head back fighting the sensitive sensation of her sucking him clean.
Slowly, she raked her lips up to his head, running her tongue, one last time, across the slit at the end before releasing him with a audible pop.
Gazing at her from under heavy lids, he shook his head with a satisfied simper. "That is not what I had planned for you."
Sitting up on her knees, she leaned back against her heals, undoing her messy bun, scooped and tied her hair back onto the top of her head. A pink hue had spread up her cheeks and her plump lips looked red from their ruff contact.
"Can I kiss you?" he asked, sitting up and reaching forward.
"No!" she giggled hitting his hands away. "Get out and let me finish this floor before I turn into a mad woman."
Opening his mouth to make a smart remark, he stopped, instead choosing silence wisely. Tilting back and tucking himself away into his pants, he feigned offense with a gaping mouth, "you did that to get rid of me!" Smiling, he shook his head, as he sprang to his feet.
Bending down, he picked up the hard-bristled brush and held it out to her. Grabbing the brush, she dunked it roughly into the pale and slapped it onto the floors, splashing his leather boots with water.
"Hey, hey, hey," he cried with a bright face as he hopped out of the path of the spreading water. "I'm going, I'm going," he assured, turning toward the door. "I know not to stand in the way of a Sicilian and her clean kitchen."
After her consuming warmth, the outside air off the ocean felt crisp against his skin. Heading up the path to the great hall of Tumdrip, he felt at ease. Sated. Never again needing to sail into the unknown searching for excitement or fulfillment. He had everything he would ever need right there in his small house next to the sea. Humming a low tone melody, he breathed in deeply filling his lungs with fresh air, with the love for his beautiful wife warming the cockles of his heart.