TimeSlip (9 page)

“I love you too,” he murmured sleepily into her breast.

Ingrid hugged him tightly against her, trying not to think
about tomorrow. “What would you like to do for your last night in the
twenty-first century?” She should have guessed what his reply would be.

Strom ran a bath while she lit the candles. She hadn’t been
prepared for the beauty of him. Every muscled inch of him was perfect, and
tonight, for one night, he was hers. He stepped into the tub and Ingrid climbed
in behind him.

“That’s cheating,” Strom’s voice rumbled low with amusement.

She slid her legs around his hips and soaped his back with a
flannel. “Ingrid, I believe you have me at a disadvantage.”

Her hand slid under the soapy water, caressing his hip and
abdomen until she found her target and he groaned with pleasure as she stroked
him. Her teeth nipped along his shoulder. She wanted to mark him, as he had
marked her, so that he could look in a mirror in the twenty-sixth century and
remember her like this, wet and slippery and about to ravish him. Her mouth
sucked hard on the tender skin of his shoulder and he drew a deep breath.

“That attack deserves retaliation.” He twisted suddenly in
the water until they were face to face and her legs were around his waist. Her
nipples peaked and his mouth laved and suckled them until she was writhing
against the side of the tub.

“Ingrid, if you don’t stop that I’m going to—”

But it was too late for threats, lifting her hips, she
angled toward him and suddenly the tip of his engorged shaft was inside her.

“Yes,” she moaned. Ingrid moved her hips, in an effort to
take more of him. He braced his strong hands on the edge of the bath and drove
into her. Ingrid raised her head, desperate for his mouth. In a desperate kiss,
lips clashed, teeth grazed and his thrusting tongue mimicked the rhythm of his
hips. Each downward stroke rubbed against her nub, maddening her. Ingrid’s
breath came fast and panting until she screamed her climax into his mouth.

Strom felt her inner muscles spasm around him, driving him
to a frenzy of passion. His thrusts increased in speed, pounding into her as
she clung to him. A low moan erupted from him as he drew back one last time and
then arched his back, driving his full, hard length into her until she quivered
against him, breathless and sated.

Ingrid nuzzled his damp chest. “I think we wrecked the
bathroom.”

Strom looked around him at the destruction. Towels swam in
puddles of water. The shelf near the bath hung drunkenly down on one side,
scattering tissues and washcloths. More ominously, on top of the linen basket
was a packet of condoms.

“Oh Ingrid, see what you’ve done to me. I said I would be
careful.” His lips brushed her forehead.

“I’m on the Pill, don’t worry.”

When the water cooled, they climbed out of the bath and
dried each other off before he carried her to bed. Strom gathered her against
him and finally they slept.

It was almost midnight when hunger woke her. How on earth
had she forgotten about dinner? She was starving and it was a wonder that Strom
hadn’t complained before now. He was still asleep, his muscular chest rising
and falling steadily. She slipped out of bed and made her way to the kitchen.
It was too late to start cooking, but maybe she could bring some snacks back to
bed with her.

As she searched the fridge, Ingrid’s eyes fell on Finn’s
purchases and her mouth curved in a smile. The viking was in for a little
surprise. Reaching for one of the knives, she began to work.

“It’s after midnight. What are you doing, Ingrid?”

She was so startled that she almost dropped the plate. The
toned beauty of him never failed to startle her, Six foot three of naked
viking—in her kitchen. Ingrid ran her tongue lightly across her lips.

“Don’t do that,” he pleaded.

“Do what?” she asked innocently.

“That thing with your tongue. It makes me…”

Ingrid’s glance ranged downward. His cock was already
beginning to stir and even in its semi-engorged state, it was still pretty
impressive. Strom reached for her, rubbing his thumb lightly against her nipple
through the fabric of her robe until it peaked. He stepped closer, his stiff
shaft nudging against her belly.

“Ms. Sorrenson, I believe that I need you back in my bed
immediately.”

Ingrid’s hand slipped between them and she stroked his hard
length, feeling a rush of pleasure when he gave a low groan in response.
“Captain Hallstrom, I think you’ll find that it’s my bed and I get to make the
rules.”

His eyes lit up with a wicked pleasure. “I am yours to
command.”

Ingrid sat back on her heels, pleased with her handiwork.
One naked viking, bound to her bed with an assortment of silk scarves, his
expression a mixture of amusement and hunger. Ingrid selected another scarf,
and straddling his waist, she tied it loosely around his eyes.

Strom bucked lazily beneath her. “Ms. Sorrenson, you never
cease to surprise me. “What happens next?”

She pressed a rough kiss against his mouth. “Now, we eat.”

Strom wrinkled up his nose as she pressed the shell against
his mouth. “What is it?”

“An oyster. Finn obviously thought that I’d need help to get
you into bed. The fridge is like an aphrodisiac paradise.”

Strom swallowed the sweet, briny flesh and opened his mouth
obediently for a second and then a third. Ingrid kissed the salty juices from
his chin and ambushed him with a long, slow kiss.

His hands strained against their bindings, eager to touch
her. “Much as I like the starter, what’s for dessert?”

Ingrid climbed off the bed and dropped her robe to the
floor. She stood at the foot of the bed contemplating his naked body. “You
are.”

She kissed her way along his foot and up his calf, pausing
to pay particular attention to the tender skin on the inside of his knee until
he squirmed and tried to wriggle away from her. Ingrid traced a leisurely path
along his inner thighs, nipping with her teeth and making long, slow strokes
with her tongue. The viking had stopped laughing by now, his breath becoming
ragged as her mouth approached his cock. His erection stood stiff and proud, a
small drop of pre-cum glistened at the tip.

“Ingrid, please…” His voice was low and hoarse.

Her tongue traced a path from root to tip, swirling around
the crown of his shaft, licking the moisture away.

“Sweet heavens,” he groaned. “Please, Ingrid, stop this. I
want you.”

Ingrid’s hand fastened around the base of his staff, and her
mouth descended, taking him, sucking at the crown, flicking her tongue along
the sensitive area behind the head. She heard the sound of tearing silk as
Strom freed himself from his bonds and ripped the blindfold away.

His eyes blazing with naked lust, Strom grabbed her, pinning
her beneath him. “Oh Ms. Sorrenson, you’re going to pay for that.”

Ingrid spread her thighs, welcoming him. She had never seen
her viking look so fierce. With one slow thrust he was inside her and she
gasped. Still inside her, Strom raised himself up until he was kneeling and he
lifted her legs until they lay against his shoulders. Ingrid grabbed his hips
for support. She was helpless. Her pussy stretched to accommodate his girth. In
this position, he felt huge.

Strom rocked gently forward, his pelvic arch rubbing against
her clit and she moaned. He thrust again, in and out, eyes closed, his teeth
gritted in concentration. A thin sheen of sweat covered his forehead and chest
as he thrust. Pleasure spiraled low in her abdomen, spreading out like a flame.
She was conscious of her own breathing, her soft, high-pitched cries and his
deep, guttural groans. Then she was free, flying, caught in a torrent of mindless
pleasure. Strom collapsed against her, his sweat mingling with hers, holding
her as she shuddered.

When she opened her eyes again, her viking was smiling a
smug, male smile. “I think we just found your G-spot.”

Through a small opening in the curtains, Ingrid watched the
dawn coming. Strom’s big arms were still wrapped around her. He hadn’t spoken,
but she knew that he was watching too. His mouth kissed a path tenderly along
her shoulder. They still had a little time. Afterward he dressed quickly. Strom
didn’t bother to shower, so anxious was he to keep her touch, her smell on his
skin for as long as possible.

“I want you to have this.” Strom took her left hand and
placed a heavy gold ring on her third finger. It looked as though it belonged
there. “Cerulian rubies,” he said, “it belonged to my grandfather.”

“Strom, I can’t take this,” Ingrid protested.

“Ingrid, didn’t you write about morning gifts, about how a
viking shows his pleasure in his new wife on the morning after their wedding. I
love you, Ingrid. This is my morning gift to you.”

The precious time they had was over. She wouldn’t cry yet,
there would be time for that later. Ingrid pressed her lips against his in a
slow kiss goodbye. Then she pulled away and tried to smile. “I love you, Strom.
I will always love you.”

He stroked her face and turned to walk away. “Wait,” she
called.

She hurried to her jewelry box and took out her father’s
wedding ring, engraved with a tiny viking longboat. He had big hands too. It
was one of her most precious possessions and there was no one else she would
ever want to give it to. Ingrid pulled on her robe and followed Strom into the
sitting room. Jake and Pete were already there. This was it. He was going. She
kissed him one last time, pressing the ring into his hand. Jake winked at her.
Then Strom spoke into his com badge and he was gone, just like that.

Her viking was gone.

* * * * *

Ingrid didn’t sleep. She couldn’t eat. Even when the
director of HR at the museum rang to say that she could come back to work, she
pleaded illness, just to have a few more days. She spent endless hours lying in
bed clutching his pillow, trying to hold on to the last faint scent of him.
Finn stayed with her the whole time, listening to the same stories, over and
over, without complaint.

David and Barbara’s funerals took place the following week.
Finn accompanied her to the service and she cried along with everyone else.
With David gone, the museum needed her until a new curator could be appointed.
She couldn’t hide behind her misery any longer, she had a job to do and she
needed to move on. Ingrid struggled back to work, still trying to accept that
Strom was gone, but the museum was full of memories of him. Every time she
opened her office door, she secretly hoped that he would be standing behind it,
waiting to kidnap her. Of course he never was and life gradually settled down
into a dull, empty routine.

The sickness started a month later. The smell of her
favorite latte made her want to throw up. The following morning was the same.
She was tired all the time, but put that one down to being miserable about
Strom. A third morning of vomiting made her leaf through her diary. Oh no. Oh
no, no, no. She couldn’t be. The trip to the pharmacy at lunchtime confirmed
her suspicions. She was most definitely pregnant. Ingrid sat in the ladies’
room of the museum, not sure whether to laugh or cry. This was a miracle, a
wonderful, terrifying miracle. She did another test to be sure and the results
came back the same. She was pregnant, Strom was gone and she was on her own.
What was she going to do now and what the hell was Finn going to say?

On the way home that evening, she bought two more test kits
to be absolutely sure, and a large tub of rocky road ice cream. Jack D wasn’t
going to help this one. She was sobbing into a box of tissues, watching
It’s
a Wonderful Life
for the second time when Finn arrived home from the
theater.

He dropped a quick kiss on her head. “What’s up, Sorrenson?
Are you having a relapse?”

Then he saw what was on the coffee table, two little white
instruments with two perfectly matching blue lines.

“Holy shit, Sorrenson, I thought you were on the Pill.”

“I was,” she sobbed, “but twenty-sixth-century medicine
seems to have screwed it up.”

Finn paced the room, running his hand distractedly through
his red hair until it was standing on end. Then he tugged on his jacket and
headed for the door. Oh no. Not him too. She couldn’t bear to lose both of
them. “Where are you going?”

“To get more ice cream, you know I hate Rocky Road.”

They talked for most of the night, watched the movie again
and finished the ice-cream. After that it was kind of okay. She might have lost
her viking, but she had a small piece of Strom that time couldn’t take away
from her.

Finn teasingly called her Momzilla. She was overbearingly
pregnant and she couldn’t help wallowing in the experience of doctor’s visits,
clothes and magazines. Finn helped feed her obsession, in some ways he was
worse than her. He fussed over her all the time, her diet, her health. Every
little sniffle was cause for drama. It was better than a starring role on
Broadway, but it had to end sometime.

“I got a job.”

“Mmm,” Ingrid said as she munched into a slice of toast and
marmalade at breakfast one morning. “That’s great. Which part?”

“No, Ingrid, a real job.”

Ingrid started to laugh and then stopped when she saw Finn’s
pained expression. “Finn, I’m so sorry.” She couldn’t resist teasing him. “Bank
robbing?”

Finn glared at her. “I figured with the baby coming that one
of us has to get sensible. Your contract at the museum runs out at the end of
the year, and it’s not as if I’m a reliable tenant.”

Ingrid put down her cup. They had shared an apartment for
more than five years and she had never seen Finn like this before. This was a
serious conversation for him. A pang of guilt struck her. While she was
wallowing in her pregnancy, Finn had been left alone, trying to take
responsibility for everything.