“In this weather?” he snorted. “I’d be lucky if you didn’t cut my throat. Let it be. Unless,” he added with a worried frown, “you don’t like it?”
She smiled teasingly, then leaned close to kiss him. A quick brush of lips became heated, tongues emerging to do gentle battle.
“It’s still soft, and not scratchy,” she said when they reluctantly parted, her breath coming only a little quick. “But when it starts to itch, I might request that you become Harald Beardless once more.” She wriggled closer, her shapely arse rubbing against his groin. In response, his c**k began to stiffen, and he groaned. “What’s the matter?”
“What’s the matter?” He unbuttoned the top of her tunic, his hands finding her warm, lovely breasts. “I would give a year of my life for a bed of green grass and a willow tree.
