Page 33 of Forbidden Dark Vows

“Enough!” I open my mouth and stick my tongue out to catch the chill and blow away the taste of the haggis.

Still laughing, Harry takes another mouthful and grabs me so that I can’t escape.

After, when I’ve washed away the tang of sheep offal with a bottle of water, we stand in the cold listening to a man in a kilt playing the bagpipes. The sound is so unlike any other musical instrument, so gut-wrenching and pitiful, that I lose track of how long we stand there in the cold, our noses turning pink, Harry’s arm draped over me. He buys huge tartan shawls to wrap around our shoulders, pulling mine around my shoulders and kissing the tip of my cold nose.

We tour Mary King’s Close, the underground city, wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the sight of the narrow dingy streets that housed so many people centuries ago. “People actually lived down here?” I huddle against Harry, soaking up his natural protection and warmth.

As the starry, velvet night sinks overhead, our footsteps slow down.

We haven’t discussed our plans beyond going back to the hotel after dinner. Tomorrow doesn’t exist. Neither does the day aftertomorrow, or the day after that. All we have is this moment in this beautiful city, and nothing else matters right now.

Walking along the cobbled streets, Harry suddenly takes my hand and drags me into a tight alleyway between buildings. Narrow stone steps lead down to dense darkness, and he grips me tightly, leading the way until we reach a tiny square courtyard surrounded by dozing buildings.

Harry leans against the wall and hugs my head against his chest. I can hear his heartbeat, da-dum, da-dum, da-dum, through his coat, and I close my eyes, soaking up his warmth while his arms shield me from the chill.

When he tilts my head back and kisses me, heat floods through my veins. I don’t want it to end. We could stay here forever, I think, walking the bumpy streets, discovering hidden alleyways that lead to real homes inhabited by real people. This is a city of secrets, so what harm will one more do?

I explore Harry’s mouth with my tongue, my nipples hardening beneath my clothes. Freeing my arms, I wrap them around his neck and run my fingers through his hair, our kisses growing harder, more demanding.

His lips travel down my neck, his fingers fumbling with my coat zipper. When he tugs it down, the chill spreading through my sweater and raising goosebumps on my flesh, I shiver. But it isn’t just from the cold.

He reaches underneath my clothes with his good hand and squeezes my nipple, forcing a groan from my lips. “How does that feel, Ruby?”

“Good…”

“It’s going to feel better than good.”

If this isn’t right, then nothing else ever will be.

“Harry…”

The sound of his name is all he needs.

Spinning me around, he pushes me up against the stone wall and lifts my coat and sweater to expose my breasts.Then his lips are there, and his tongue is chasing circles around my nipple, the tingling spreading between my legs.

His mouth is hot on my nipples, the cold winter air caressing my bare stomach. I arch my spine, pushing my nipples into his mouth, wanting him to be greedy, to devour them with his tongue.

Harry kneels. He tries to unfasten my jeans, but is struggling with one hand, so I undo them for him. I’m already wet. My pussy is clenching and unclenching uncontrollably before he has even touched me. So, when he slides the tight denim over my hips and drags his moist tongue across my skin, I tilt my head backwards and stare up into the darkness at the millions of brilliant stars twinkling overhead.

He said he wanted to do this right. I only hope he understands that, for us, this is perfect.

“Talk to me, Ruby.” His voice sounds far away.

“I…” I can’t talk. I can’t think of anything but his tongue between my legs.

His fingers are on my thighs, spreading them apart, and I gasp at the chill between my legs. I don’t know if it’s the cold, the impossibility of finding ourselves in another country, in a citysteeped in history, or the thrill of danger that someone else might walk down those stone steps and find us here, but my entire body is thrumming for Harry to fuck me.

His tongue flicks between my legs and I must groan out loud because the sound hovers in front of me. I want to bat it away, but I can’t move. All my concentration is being used up by the feel of Harry’s tongue, licking, flicking, gently parting my pussy, teasing me before he goes in.

I want this sensation to last forever.

I want it to be over.

My mind no longer belongs to me. It belongs wholeheartedly to Harry’s tongue, dragging across my clit, back and forth, until my orgasm explodes out of me. I can’t think. Even the stars are blinking in and out of existence as my body shudders, my breath lost somewhere in the courtyard until I can think clearly enough to rescue it.

Harry rises. “You taste so fucking good, Ruby.”

His tongue fills my mouth, and I can taste me, my orgasm, mingled with the taste of him. He presses his body against mine, pinning me to the wall. I try to explore his body with both hands, to keep this going, to make sure that he doesn’t stop, but he grabs my wrists with his good hand and raises my arms above my head.

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