Bride of Grendel 2: Night of the Bear Man: A Viking Lore Erotic Tale (Viking Lore Erotic Tales Book 3) by Gwynn Jones Read Free Book Online Page A

chaos might envelop Heorot in the future. Besides, he had his own realm to return to, his own loyalties to maintain.
                  He helped her tend to Grendel's corpse. It was painful, but she allowed him to take the head. It would provide definitive proof of the monster's death, and though Sigrun did not fear for herself, wasn't even sure that she would remain at this place, it would increase the chances of her being left in peace. It would also increase the potential for Grendel himself to rest in peace: the undead rise in mysterious ways, and one can never be too careful in putting monsters down for good. Sigrun did not like the thought of Grendel rising again, more horrifying than ever and even harder to control. They decided to deliver the rest of his body into the hearth, as it seemed the only reasonably available funeral pyre.
                  Weeping, Sigrun embraced Grendel's cold chest one last time before cutting off his head with the giant sword, slicing clean through with a single swipe. Beowulf helped her lift the body onto the hearth, and then they rolled it into the flames. Tears poured down her cheeks, blurring her vision, but she caught her breath and was startled out of her grief at the sight that was briefly revealed when they consigned him to the fire. The flames were momentarily parted, dampened by the body, finally affording her a clear view to the back of the hearth.
                  There was no back wall.
                  Or rather, there was a gaping opening — a passageway. The great carved hearth had always seemed like a gateway because it was a gateway! But a gateway to where? To what? Was this entire hall in fact a gatehouse to something beyond? And was this what Grendel had felt he needed to protect?
                  Sigrun's questions did not prevent her from taking comfort in Beowulf's embraces. They enjoyed each other again, and again, slowly and carefully. She explored the immense delights of his magnificent cock and all the ways in which she could take it, giving and receiving pleasure. She used her mouth and hands on him in every way she could imagine, thrilling at the responses she provoked. Beowulf submitted to her caresses, gave himself to her, and then returned the attentions in kind. They explored every inch of each other's bodies. Beowulf mapped and mastered her, as she did to him. His touch was skilled, precise, attentive in no way she had ever felt before, and she learned from her time with him how to read a body, how to play it to perfection.
                  How this bear of a man, so huge, so powerful, could be simultaneously so sensitive, so careful, amazed her. He made her body sing. And the lightning flashes, the pulses of energy that she had felt before with Grendel and with the sea dragons, became shaper and more focused under his focused attentions. They marveled together at the sparks that flickered from Sigrun's fingertips as she became aroused, and she played at sending them snapping and crackling across Beowulf's bare chest. But for all these pleasures and discoveries, they both knew that their time together was short, and this precious interlude needed to end.
                  "Can't you come with me?" he groaned, wrapping her in his arms.
                  "Can't you stay with me?" She chuckled, a bit sadly, knowing what his response had to be. "Of course you can't. You are a hero. You have responsibilities. You have men waiting for you above."
                  "I do. And though you tempt me to forget them all, I cannot abandon them. And it's not just my men. My king and my country are under constant threat from our enemies, and I am needed to help maintain the peace."
                  "Your enemies ought to fear you greatly after this amazing feat."
                  "Yes. It is why I came, to make my name for myself. And now I curse my