Page 36 of Scot of Desire
“Ye eejit.” When she called him this, something she had so often called him over the years, he smiled, thrilled when she smiled back.
They fell silent, their hands very near to one another on her legs. He shifted his right hand, the edge of his finger brushing hers. She inhaled sharply, her chest rising and falling with the movement. His eyes shot down to what she was wearing.
The red gown was revealing and intensely flattering. He stared at her curves in wonder, not wanting to be apart from her ever again.
She has been in me bedchamber fer so long. Stay, Ilyssa, and dinnae think of leaving.
“We need tae talk,” she whispered with sudden huskiness.
“About?” He raised his hands a little higher on her thighs, watching as her breath grew faster, her chest now straining against the cover of that red gown.
“About what happened in me chamber?”
“Dae we need tae talk?” he asked, leaning toward her. “Ye and I both ken what it meant, dinnae we?” He hovered his lips over hers, testing her, to see what she would do next. Her lips fluttered closed.
She didn’t need to say anything and pressed her lips to his.
The kiss was instantly fierce. It stole his breath, the excitement overwhelming his body as he slipped his hands up her thighs and took hold of her hips, rocking her against his body.
She trembled above him, her hands taking hold of his shoulders and anchoring the two of them together. They moved against one another, with Bran pushing that kiss further and further, so that his tongue tangled and dominated Ilyssa’s. When she was the one to trail her fingers down his bare chest, reaching toward the top of his trews, he growled animalistically.
I need her. I need her now.
He rolled the two of them over fast, moving her to her back. She gasped as they parted from their kiss, her hands moving to his chest, exploring him with increasing swiftness. Her fingers were intoxicating, the movement of her teasing fingers everywhere making his length hard and strain against his trews.
He moved down her body, dragging the hem of her gown up until it was tangled around her hips. She moved her hips againsthim, rocking them together, the delicious friction sparking something as heated as the fire beside them.
He bent down over her, kissing her abdomen and her hips, getting to every part of her bare skin that he could reach. She was moaning, breathily, her hands now gripping his shoulders as he hooked her leg over his shoulder, as he had done before in her bedchamber. He hesitated, hovering his lips over her center, wanting to see what she desired from him.
“Please,” she begged, her breath almost unrecognizable in its desire. “Please Bran.”
Hearing her beg him in such a way made him weak. He moved his tongue to her very center, with no prevarication, and entered her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ilyssa felt her body was burning. It had to be, for the power of Bran’s tongue was setting her alight. Her head thrashed from side to side as he took her with his kisses on her very core. The pleasure was somehow greater this time, more all-encompassing. It had to be because he showed no hesitation. He took her fast with his lips, purposefully, then slid his hand up. His fingers barely teased her opening, before he moved his lips to a bud of nerves outside of her, pleasuring her with that sensation, as he slipped his fingers into her wetness.
She arched her back, moving her hands above her head to grip the hearth rug. He had complete control of her body now as she spread her legs wide, not wanting this sensation to finish. She moaned, loudly, not holding back.
“Bran… Bran…”
Her body beaded with sweat. As she opened her eyes, staring down at Bran, their eyes connected. A shock of pleasure eruptedin her body as she trembled at the sight of what he was doing to her.
When he broke off, suddenly, she whimpered.
“Dinnae stop,” she begged, as he moved back up her body, only now, he was setting her legs around his hips. He rocked his body against hers, rubbing his hardened length against her through his trews. It made her throw her head back, moaning again. “Bran, dinnae stop!”
“Ye want me?” he asked, whispering in her ear. He took her earlobe in his mouth, sucked, and bit down playfully. At the shock of the sensation, her hands gripped his back, pulling him down closer. “Say it.”
“I want ye,” she pleaded. The words between them were sultry in the air, husky whispers mixing with the crackling of the fire.
“What dae ye want me tae dae tae ye?” he whispered, breathily, now moving his lips down her neck to the curve of her collarbone where he placed openmouthed, wet kisses. He tugged on the opening of her dress, snapping some of the laces across the front of her gown. She didn’t care and went to help him, pulling the gown off her shoulder. “Tell me, what dae ye want me tae dae?”
“Make love tae me,” she pleaded. “Bran, please. Here, in front of this fire. Make love tae me.” She looked down at his trews as he removed the gown from her body. She pulled at them around his hips, desperate to see all of him at last.
He kicked them off. She looked up at him in amazement, her eyes transfixed to the size and hardness of his length as he took hold of her chemise and lifted it over her head.
When they were both bare, not a stitch between them, he moved over to her again.
