Page 41 of Scot of Desire
With boldness, she reached forward, placing her lips to the edge of his length. He tipped his head back and moaned, breathily. Shocked at the sight of him, she took more of him in his mouth, watching in awe at his reactions to her. His hands moved to her shoulders, his fingers restless, clearly trying to touch as much of her as possible.
She was dithering with excitement, enamored by the power she had over him as she watched his pleasure build, then he abruptly stopped her, his hand firm on her shoulder.
“If ye keep doing that, I willnae be able tae make love tae ye. I’ll finish too soon.” His hooded voice made her insides tremble for wanting him. He moved down to his knees, removing her of her dress fast. She turned around, her knees resting on a cushion as she allowed him to remove her corset. He flung it to the side where it landed with everything else in a soft pile, then he removed her chemise too.
She was about to turn back to face him when his hands caught her bare waist and her urged her to lean forward on her hands and knees.
“Tell me what ye want,” he ordered, his voice husky. One hand caressed her rear as the other now went to her center. Stunned at the pleasure in her body from just the flick of his fingers, she shuddered. “Tell me,” he said again, his fingers now toying with her, not quite plunging into her, but teasing her.
“Ye.”
“Again.” He replaced his fingers with his length, nudging her from behind.
“Ye, Bran. I want ye.”
Then he entered her.
Unlike last time, there was no pain. There was only shooting pleasure reaching deep inside of her. Stunned at the power of it, her back arched and she rocked back onto him. He set up a quick rhythm, moving in and out, his hands never not moving. Sometimes he gripped her waist, pulling her repeatedly back onto him so their connection was fast and fierce. Other times he caressed her hips. When he reached around her, cupping her breasts, toying with her, the moans fell from her lips fast.
They were both dithering, both moaning loudly, both sweating when he moved their positions, withdrawing from her. She moaned at the loss of contact, only to find he rolled them over. He laid back on the cushions and urged her to straddle him. Her center hovering over his length.
“Show me,” he whispered, his hands tracing the curves of her body, his long fingers moving across her breasts and down to her waist. “Show me ye want me.”
She teased him for a moment, taking him a little inside of her, but not fully. When he groaned, his voice deep, she couldn’t resist and rocked the two of them together. She had never moved her body in such a way before, but soon, found it impossible to stop, moving their bodies fast together.
Enamored, she watched his reaction, stunned by the way his eyes raked over her and how much his hands gripped to her, and then it happened. As he had gripped hard to her hips, she plunged over that edge of pleasure. She bucked against him; her eyes full of starbursts as he held tightly to her thighs. Lifting hisbody, he raised into her repeatedly, then she heard him groan loud, felt a warmth spreading through their connection.
They both froze, stunned, breathless, as they finished together. His hand moved to one of hers on his chest, threading their fingers together. She didn’t want to pull off him, didn’t even think about it, she just stayed above him, basking in the glow of the fact they had finished together with him inside of her.
“Flee with me tomorrow night,” he whispered. “Marry me, Ilyssa.”
She answered by bending down and kissing him again.
“Ahem.” Catreena suddenly cleared her throat loudly.
Bran looked toward his sister across the feasting table to see the tops of her cheeks were pink with rage. She widened her eyes, something silent in that warning glare that he could not decipher. It was then he looked at Gilroy and Cillian who were exchanging uncertain looks.
Bran shifted, leaning a little away from Ilyssa. The two of them had been speaking as much as they could throughout the dinner, though often interrupted by Cillian’s attempts to make conversations with Ilyssa.
Tad’s empty seat at the table was somehow all the more obvious this evening than it had been over the last five days.
Where are ye, Tad?
“Ilyssa, perhaps ye would like another drink?” Cillian asked, offering up the flagon to her.
“Thank ye.” Ilyssa’s reply was distracted, for her eyes were on Bran again.
He could feel her hand under the table, brushing his leg. He reached down and laid his fingers over hers, entwining them. When he thought back to the moments that they had stolen together that day, he was intensely distracted. Her hand so high on his leg was not helping matters.
“If ye would excuse us all,” Catreena said as she stood. “I have a headache coming on. Braither, would ye escort me tae me chamber, please?”
Bran glowered at her over his goblet. He had little wish to leave Ilyssa alone with Gilroy and Cillian, but clearly Catreena had thought of that as she subtly nodded at the guards on the door as she moved around her chair. Evidently, she thought Ilyssa was quite safe with these people as long as there were others in the room.
“We willnae be long, Bran,” she assured him with a forced smile.
“Very well. I will be back soon,” he said to Laird Gilroy who nodded and urged him away.
“Of course. Ye must attend tae yer sister, Bran.”
