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The Viking’s Possession by Felicity Brandon

After she saves the life of Prince Anders, the Viking warrior who took her as his captive and tamed both her body and her heart, nineteen-year-old Princess Aurelie of Donrose knows that she can never return home again. She will belong to Anders forever, as his bride and his possession, destined to be used and enjoyed as thoroughly, shamefully, and often as he pleases.

Though Anders has proven many times that he is more than willing to punish her bare bottom harshly for any disobedience, with war fast approaching between her brother and her husband, Aurelie puts her own life in danger in the hopes of making peace. But when her reckless gamble goes wrong, can Anders rescue his headstrong young wife before any harm comes to her?



Publisher’s Note: The Viking’s Possession is a stand-alone sequel to The Viking’s Conquest. It includes spankings, sexual scenes and sexual humiliation, and more. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.

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Author: Felicity Brandon

eBook Price: Kindle Unlimited/$4.95

Length: 93,600 words


“You shall indeed be claimed. I will pound you longer and harder, taking what is mine without question, but first…” His face moves closer to me, his lips scraping the side of my right cheek. “First I want to watch you climax. I need to see you unravel before me, your body shuddering at my command, giving in to my every demand. Do you understand me?”

My head is shaking, apparently in agreement. “Yes, yes, my Lofðungr,” I whisper. “Yes, I understand.”

His smile forms into a hard line, the concentration in his eyes evident as he presses himself back into position at my hip. He switches gear then, the fingers buried deep in between my wet folds accelerating in pace and intensity. I gasp out loud, my knees buckling at the sudden power of his hands.

“Yes,” he murmurs into my ear. “Feel my fingers inside you. Feel each digit as it slides in and out of what belongs to me, commanding you to your pleasure at my bidding.”

I groan, my eyes closing as I squirm like an animal against him, my every essence filled with the feeling of his fingers around me and inside me. It’s as though I am possessed by the strength of his passion, the intensity to which he wants to see me splinter, and then plunder me once again. I am his, and only his. I always have been. Anders was the first man I ever knew, and he mastered me in many ways even before the time his Viking cock first speared me. I am nothing but a vessel for our mutual pleasure, and with each stroke and flick of his hands, I edge nearer to my own.

“Good girl,” he purrs at me, and something about his tone makes my eyes flutter open. He is right there, next to me, eyeing my face as I hasten toward my climax.

I offer him a smile, or as much of one as I can in my current predicament. I like being his good girl, and even now that I am his wife, the power of those words is not lost on me.

The fingers at my rear press deeper suddenly, mastering me and catching me off guard. The sensation of being filled and stretched in both holes is consuming, and I pant against his shoulder at the exquisite depravity of the experience.

“Who owns this sweet pussy, my little captive?” His voice is taunting and his expression dark as he waits for me to answer. He knows that I will gladly acknowledge my submission to him; my husband, my prince, and my master.

“You do, my Lofðungr,” I moan back at him, my hips rolling back, and then pressing forward, caught in the ecstatic web that both of his hands are providing.

“Hmmm,” he replies. “Yes. And who owns this sweet, sweet ass?”

“It’s you.” I can barely get the words out now, my back arching further as my mouth gasps for air. “You, Anders—you own it.”

At my admission, his fingers cease, the inactivity causing my pelvis to buck instinctively. He shifts, manoeuvring his body slightly so that the top of his thumb now nudges against my needy little nub. “Now you will climax,” he growls at me. “Fuck yourself against your master’s fingers, and don’t you dare stop until I tell you to.”

My lips open in response, but there are no words now. There is only the motion of my hips, the rhythm of his fingers, and the palpable passion between us. I writhe in silence, approaching the precipice at speed. “Please,” I gasp, flexing my wetness back against him again. “Now. I’m coming now!”

I’m aware of his lips curling at my admission, but my eyes flutter shut reflexively, my head falling back as the power of my climax overtakes me. It rips through me like lightning, paralysing me with the pleasure that consumes me. My channel tightens around his digits, gripping him as I shudder, wave upon wave of sensation rolling through my tightly wound body.

He stays inside me for a few moments, seemingly enjoying my convulsions almost as much as I do, and then, at last he growls the words I long to hear. “Now it is time, my sweeting. Now, I will claim what’s mine.”

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