Vikings' Thrall: A Bisexual MMF Menage

By Ellie Hunt

"Now, she had two naked Viking warriors.

Late one night, hard-working, curvy graduate student Gwen follows her vivacious friend Morgan deep under the Rare Books Library, where there's a mysterious room full of very old books. The moment she opens one, she's whisked away - and she wakes up in medieval Scandinavia.

Worse, she's been taken prisoner by a band of Vikings - and when their warlord sees her, he claims the curvy brunette as his own!

Luckily, Gwen also meets sexy, rugged Thor and his lover - and they're more than willing to show her the time of her life by taking her both at the same time!

Vikings' Thrall is a super-steamy MMF bisexual menage story - where the men take her AND each other! Warning: this threesome novella is so explicit, hot, and steamy that it might set your ereader on fire!"

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ellie Hunt
• Release date: Aug 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005776299

Ellie Hunt

Ellie is wine-loving, latte-drinking mom of three who loves her dog a little too much and her treadmill not enough.When she's not dreaming up dirty stories, she's probably supervising dance class or taking notes at a PTA meeting, where no one is the wiser about her secret writing life!

Book preview

Chapter One

The church bell three blocks away struck one in the morning, a low, quiet boom sounding over campus.

Gwen, come on, said Morgan, her eyes sparkling. She grabbed the other girl’s hand and tugged at it, pulling her toward the bushes at the side of the building.

We can’t just break in, Gwen said, following her for a few feet, onto a less-used sidewalk, out of the way.

Who said we’re breaking in? Morgan said, her eyes going wide and innocent for a moment.

Even in her somewhat tipsy state, Gwen recognized that look.

It was Morgan’s this-is-only-illegal-if-we-get-caught look.

Aren’t there, Gwen said, slowly, Alarms and stuff?

Somewhere out in the quad, she heard a cheer erupt and peeked out of the quiet path where they’d gone. She couldn’t see much, but she could definitely see a group of college boys, all wearing matching blue sport coats and khakis, hauling one of their comrades around on their shoulders.

Gwen frowned.

"Some secret society thing," Morgan said, making air quotes around ‘secret.’

They’re not trying very hard.

Better than jerking off onto a dude in a coffin, she said, casually.

Gwen made a face, even though she’d also read that Yale Daily News article.

As she was watching after the boys, Morgan tugged on her hand again, and then handed her a slim silver flask.

Take another drink while I unlock this door, she said.

Gwen took the flask and looked at it, dubiously, then watched as Morgan bent down to the lock, her piles and piles of curly red hair falling over her shoulder. She gave an exasperated sigh and shoved it back with both hands.

Gwen looked around behind the two of them at the sidewalk they’d come from. The main quad of Yale was still plenty rowdy with college students celebrating their graduation, but the little offshoot where they were was surprisingly quiet.

It wasn’t like these drunk frat boys-turned-investment bankers were in any shape to realize that the two girls were trying to break into the rare books library through the basement door. They probably thought Gwen and Morgan were peeing, puking, or making out, there in the shadows.

The flask was full of Scotch, which was a surprise to Gwen — especially since they’d just gotten drunk on half-priced well drinks at the off-campus car where all the graduate students hung out.

She took another swig, rolling it around in her mouth for a moment. Gwen usually drank her whiskey on the rocks, but she let it burn sweetly down her throat, giving her enough courage to follow Morgan.

Then Gwen screwed the cap back on and stuck it in the back pocket of her jeans, watching Morgan work. She had both hands busy and Gwen squinted in the dark, trying to see what she was doing.

Hair pins? Gwen thought. Is she using hair pins to pick a lock?

Of course Morgan knows how to do that, Gwen figured. She was, without a doubt, the most interesting person she’d ever met — and brilliant, to boot, having just gotten her Ph.D. in Classics. She spoke four languages, read six, and had written a dissertation on witchcraft and the Catholic church in the late Roman Empire. She’d already been offered a publication deal for it, something Gwen could only fantasize about.

As of that day, Gwen was done taking classes, but her own history thesis about crypto-Druidism among Medieval monks in Scotland was still a total disaster. She had two or three more years at least, and hoped that Yale wouldn’t cut off her funding.

In front of her, there was a gentle but loud click and Morgan stood, tossing her hair over her shoulders again.

Then she half-turned, looked up and down the path they were on, and winked at Gwen.

You coming? she asked, and then opened the door for the other girl.

Beyond it was a pool of pure black, and Gwen could feel the cool cellar air wafting out of the building. The Memorial Rare Books Library had been built a sometime in the 1800s on a stone foundation, so Gwen found it a nice change from the humid June night.

Watch your step, she said as Gwen moved through the doorway into the complete darkness.

She couldn’t see a thing, but her hand rested on the stone wall to her left. She felt rather than saw Morgan come in behind her and close the door, the soft whoosh of air making her fine brown hair float over her shoulders.

Boo, she said softly, her voice right next