BRAND: FILTHY MODERN VIKINGS (THE JORGENSEN LEGACY Book 2) Read online

  Brand: Filthy Modern Vikings

  The Jorgensen Legacy

  ChaShiree M

  M.K. Moore

  Breeding Nation Publishing

  Brand (A Jorgensen Legacy)

  By Chashiree M. & MK Moore

  © ChaShiree M & MK Moore 2019 Breeding Nation Publishing.

  All Rights Reserved.

  By the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for brief quotations used in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  The use of actors, artists, movies, TV shows and song titles/lyrics throughout this book are done so for storytelling purposes and should in no way be seen as an advertisement. Trademark names are used editorially with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.

  This book is intended for adults only. Contains sexual content and language that may offend some. The suggested reading audience is 18 years or older. I consider this book as Erotic Adult Romance.

  ASIN: 9781096130017

  Cover created by Dark Water Covers

  Editor Melinda G @ MKB Edits

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Other Books by ChaShiree M.

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Other books by MK Moore

  Blurb

  Brand Jorgensen is a beast.

  When I want something I get it.

  Jaymes Fallon is broken.

  I want him more than I've ever wanted anything.

  It won't be easy, but it'll be worth it.

  Vikings, babies, and brands are abundant in this Jorgensen Legacy tale.

  Pain, love, and ecstasy go hand in hand in this one. Can you handle it?

  WARNING: This novella contains darkish elements of self-harm and some S&M; Reader beware.

  Dedicated to those who feel all alone for one reason or another. This goes to show you that there is someone for everyone.

  1

  Brand

  Seeing her fine young ass from across the room isn’t enough. It will never be enough. She is serving the other men in the room and I don’t like it one fucking bit. Her little name badge says, Jaymes. Despite her manly name, she is all woman. A petite woman, that I want to fuck within an inch of her life. The need to do all things to her that I’ve never done to a woman before. Namely to wife the fuck out of her.

  My niece, Erika is throwing her wedding reception/party, whatever they are calling it, that has been twenty years in the making. I am happy for her and Thane. It seems as if one by one the Jorgensen’s are pairing off.

  At forty now, I was only two when my oldest nephew Bill was born. My mama, Enid is a crazy lady. She had her youngest child at the age of forty-eight in 1990. The medical marvel she is I think she is going to live forever. This family has had a million things to celebrate. We are always doing something.

  I have done things in my life that I am immensely proud of and a few things I am not, yet none of it matters right now in the slightest. The more I watch her, the more I want her to be mine. I am thinking of doing something crazy. My brother Om's kind of crazy.

  “Can I get you anything else, sir?” Jaymes asks, suddenly standing in front of me with a tray of champagne glasses in hand. The way she says “sir” makes my balls ache. “Mr. Jorgenson?” By Odin, she is gorgeous. Her tortured green eyes tell me that she's seen things too. I should go slow, but that’s not my way.

  “Jaymes, can I get a whiskey on the rocks?” I ask. Anything to get her to come back to me.

  “Coming right up,” she says scooting away from me. But when she pauses to look over her shoulder at me, my heart lurches with the smile she gives me. I didn't even know I had a heart. Sure, there is the life-giving beating muscle, but the elusive and unattainable one, I had no idea. I fuck people up and scar them for life, both physically and mentally. It's my job and disturbingly it's also my motherfucking passion. My form of torture is branding, pun intended.

  There is something soothing in the methodical way I heat up my irons with the target knowing what is coming, but unable to stop it. It provides an enjoyment that shouldn't exist. The moment I apply the hot iron to my prey's skin, and it sears the flesh causing it to pucker. Blistering it. The scent of burning flesh comforts me. I'm a sick man and everyone knows it. Jaymes steps back into my line of sight with my drink in hand.

  “Here you go, sir. A scotch on the rocks.” She isn't carrying her tray anymore. When I take the glass from her hand, our fingers touch, and electricity shoots up through my arm and goes straight to my heart.

  I look down at where we are linked together. It's then that I see her forearms are covered in little burns. I understand and can point out what they are easily. Marks from a hot lighter, cigarette burns, and cigar marks. Eraser burns are there. Along with frostbite from the tiny straw of a can of duster that is used for electronics. I grab ahold of her wrist to keep her from leaving.

  “What are these?” I whisper harshly, even though I already know the answer.

  You'll find almost identical marks on my arms. Like recognizes like, and I need to know more about why she does this. I always keep my scars covered, but her UTGARD waitressing uniform doesn't allow for that. My poor peaches. There is no doubt about it now, she's mine.

  “Nothing. Accidents,” she whispers back as she is trying to pull away from me, but I won't let her.

  “Lies,” I say. Her eyes widen. People who self-harm do so for many reasons. I want to know what makes her tick.

  “It's really nothing, Brand,” she says quietly looking around. My name on her lips sounds like a fucking sin, but no one is watching us in this private moment. I slowly open the cuff links on my dress shirt, my tux jacket is long forgotten at my table. Rolling my sleeve up, I show her my secret.

  Instinctively, I know she will keep my secret as much as she will know that I will keep hers. Her soft, pale, and slender fingers trace the largest of my scars. The puckered mess from a blowtorch that was left behind before I knew what I was doing.

  “You can tell me, peaches,” I say softly. She closes her gorgeous green eyes.

  “I do it to myself,” she says breathlessly with her eyes still closed.

  “Why?”

  “It feels good. I need it.” I'm grinning when she opens her eyes. “I've never said that out loud before.”

  “Is it freeing?” I ask. Never having said it myself, I imagine that it would be.

  “Yes. Very. Why do you do it?” Her return question surprises me, though it shouldn't. I set my glass down on the table next to me untouched.

  “It centers me. I need it too.” Once it's out there, I take a deep breath. “That is freeing as fuck.” She gives me a little smile and rem
oves her fingers, then leans her head down and places a little kiss on it. I groan. Her lips are even softer than her skin.

  I can't help myself from dragging her into the tiny storage closet behind me. For what I have in mind, I don’t want anyone seeing. She doesn't say a word as I close the door and plunge us into the darkness. In the tiny space her subtle perfume overwhelms my senses in the best ways.

  “Brand?” She questions, gripping my shirt.

  “Jaymes,” I say before judging the distance between us and crashing my lips down on hers. She gives as good as she gets. Our tongues dance the dance of war. Her moans do me in and I give up any pretense of not making her come in this closet. I won’t be fucking her in it, but I am going to eat her cunt like the queen she absolutely is. Reluctantly, I pull myself away from her heavenly mouth.

  “How old are you, peaches?” I ask. I haven't had enough time to perform a background check on her yet. I've only just found her.

  “Eighteen, today.” I drop to my knees and lift her much to short skirt, pulling her panties down her thighs. While I'm down here, I thank God for giving her to me. I can practically smell her intact cherry.

  “Happy Birthday,” I say breathing in her fresh scent. “Are you ready for your present?”

  “Oh my God. Yes,” she says.

  “Good girl,” I say kissing her thighs. I feel the raised flesh there and I know she gives her thighs the attention she craves as well.

  I've researched self-harm extensively. It's not always sexual, but it can be. I want that with her. To be one thousand percent myself has never been possible before I met her, and like her it’s a gift from God.

  I kiss the insides of her thighs before lifting one leg over my shoulder and licking her pussy from clit to ass. One fucking hit of her juices and I'm addicted.

  “Brand, please. Please,” she begs.

  I give her what she needs and lick her tasty cunt, until she comes on my tongue and down my throat. Her very essence goes into my soul where she'll always remain. She could've been loud enough to wake the dead, but I couldn't hear anything over the pounding of my own heart and the whoosh of my blood pumping in my veins. There was no touch from her yet, but that was just as euphoric as the thrill I get when I brand myself or torture a criminal.

  “Ready to get out of here?” I am going to need more of that feeling and I'm going to need it sooner than soon.

  2

  Jaymes

  Is this really happening? I can’t believe this is happening. Brand freaking Jorgensen. I have been lusting for this man since we moved here. I saw him in UTGARD my first day of work and that was it. I knew with every fiber inside my body, he is it for me. Never once did I dream that he would want me too.

  “You’re not over there having second thoughts on me, are you?” He asks as we drive to his house.

  “Absolutely not. It would be like doubting my own existence?” I say back to him. And it’s true.

  Since I first laid eyes on him, he has been a part of me. The reason I go to bed and get up every day praying for a glimpse of him. Hoping he comes into the restaurant for his everyday order of chipped beef on rye, side of fries, and a coke. I want to cover myself in the gravy and place myself on the plate going to his table. In all honesty, I have to admit I never thought it would happen. Now that it's here I hope I am good enough for him.

  “Good. Cause we’re here.” I look up at the house and wonder how many women have been in it. Am I going to be one in a long line of many? The thought of what we are about to share and not being as special to him as it is to me, hurts. It’s deep down in the pit of my stomach where my nerves and dreams begin. I want more than anything to be...something to him.

  “Let’s go, Eve. I can’t wait any longer. Move your ass.” I look up at him confused.

  “Eve?” I have no clue what that means.

  “From the garden baby. You're my temptation. Everything I shouldn’t want or have, but fuck if I can let you go now.”

  “Don’t.” I whisper with my head down.

  He growls as he unlocks the door and all but pushes me inside. I am about to turn to him and do or say what I don’t know. Before I can blink, my back is against the door.

  “Fuck, Jaymes. I know I should lay you in a bed full of some fluffy shit or something. You deserve so much of all that girly shit, but I don’t think I can wait to take you up the stairs.” He says as he is sniffing my neck. His nose touches me as his facial hair tickles the side of my face. I can’t stop the shiver that runs up and down my body.

  “You smell of fresh honeysuckle and sugar cane. All my weaknesses.” Who says shit like that to someone? And why is it making me drip for him? Coating my thighs in a silent prayer.

  “Oh God, Brand. I don’t care about all the other stuff. I just want to be yours.”

  “You think you aren’t already? Walking around with the scars I use as a calling card. You were made for me. Now strip.” I was prepared for any number of things, but this? Not so much. My hands go to my shirt and I begin to lift it up, but something stops me. At first, I am not sure why I am hesitating. Until….

  “I said strip, Eve. Fucking take off all your clothes. You've been spraying me with your scent since the reception as if you were a naughty little skunk. Now, you’re going to give me what belongs to me,” he says with his hand around my throat.

  The feeling of his hand squeezing the air from my lungs is like a midnight serenade. Everything inside me starts to calm as I feel my body shudder and my heart pick up the beat. My pussy screams for him to squeeze a bit tighter. To give me the release that cutting usually creates. My pussy is dripping for this man that seems to know everything I need. Closing my eyes briefly, I inhale letting his scent engulf me. I pull my shirt over my head and slip my skirt down my legs. He never put my panties back on.

  “Ah hell baby. Look at you. I want to do right by you, Jaymes. But...hell if I know how. I just know I have to take you now. Everything in me is calling for you.”

  My body comes alive with want and need at his words. Moaning seems to be my new language because I cannot find the words. Watching as this buff red-headed man takes his clothes off is the single most erotic thing I have ever encountered. When he is naked, his mouth connects with mine and the volcano erupts. Our tongues duel for dominance, though we both know he is in control and I have no desire to be.

  “Look at me my Eve. Look at me before I sink this Gandalf sized staff inside you. You need to know that it’s already too late. Once I destroy that cherry and marking the space inside you, there is never a place you can go that I won’t find you.” He says.

  “You want to know why I call you Eve? It's because you are my rib baby. The Almighty from above, pulled a rib from my body and made you for me. Then he put you in my path eighteen years later so I can love and protect you. So, this…was meant to be. Tell me you understand.” I am a mess. The tears won’t stop coming but they don’t need to. I jump in his arms and my legs spread around his waist.

  “I fucking love you,” he says as he slams into me.

  “Aaaaaaaaa...Brand...oh fuck.”

  “I’m sorry baby. But you can take it. This tight fucking pussy was meant for me. Take the fucking beating I’m giving you. Shit.” Oh God. He is a beast. A beast of the best kind. He pummels into me over and over, his cock so hard and bruising. I know I am going to feel this for weeks to come.

  “Yes Brand. I can take it. Brand me.”

  “Fuck. Baby hold on. I am going to leave you with scars so deep on the inside, they will never heal.” In and out over and over. Harder and faster.

  My back hits the wall with each movement. His mouth moves down to my nipples sucking them each into his mouth. One after the other bathing them in his spit, biting them as he makes a part of him. They are sensitive and hard. Proudly displaying themselves in front of him.

  “Look at how your body peaks for me. Ah fuck, Jaymes. I can't hold on.” His finger finds my clit and the dam breaks. I gush all over him. Let
ting my pleasure sear him, the way his cock has done me.

  His hands are digging into my hips. He grabs them and moves me up and down his shaft in a frantic pace. Slamming me onto him, the scream from my orgasm is not dying as he inflicts the finality of his love on me.

  “Take it. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!” He releases his cum inside me. Nothing has ever felt better. We slide to the floor still connected to one another. Panting and kissing each other. Whispering promises of things to come.

  Finally, we get up and make it into the bedroom. We lie down on the bed and hold each other, while basking in the feeling of coming home. Rubbing our fingers over each other’s scars.

  “Tell me why you started doing this, Eve.” I have never spoken of my coping mechanism with anyone. But with him, I find myself eager to share.

  “It’s simple. My dad died when I was seven. Everyone sort of acknowledged my mom’s pain, but of course I was young enough to get over it. So, they said. It became the only way I had of releasing the sadness.” I never considered how freeing it would be to say that out loud.

  “With me, you will never know sadness baby. Only love, devotion, and my big Viking cock.” He says the sweetest things. I drift to sleep feeling more love than I ever have.

  3

  Brand

  Several times throughout the night, I take her. Again, and again, I slide my cock in her soaking folds trying my damndest to breed her. To own her. She allows my dominance, never once questioning my lack of protection. Maybe she's on the pill and that's why she's not questioning it, but something tells me that's not true.