Page 26 of A Plaid Case of Loving Ye
Shewanted this.
But telling herself she was only doing it for his health, she pushed his legs apart so she could slide between them, feeling like a powerful seductress. She watched his fingers tighten around his thighs, watched him swallow, and knew he was fighting to keep from reaching for her.
“I want ye to touch yerself, Ramsay,” she managed. “Touch yer—yer cock.”
His fingers twitched, but he made no move to push the remainder of his kilt to one side. “Touch myself?” he rasped out.
“I want ye to orgasm.”
He exhaled, his lips working as if he struggled to find the words. “Ye want me to stroke myself, to spill my seed…while ye watch?”
Is that what he objected to? She held his gaze. “Iamyer medical professional, Ramsay. I need to witness the treatment, to see if it helps ye.”
He grunted and closed his eye, his breathing faster.
“Ramsay…” She shifted forward, and when she did, his kilt pulled to one side. His cock—already erect and straining—burst free, and she inhaled his sweet musk. “Ramsay, I lost Lady Helen. I need a win here.”
“A win?” His eye was still closed, his head still tipped back. “Is that what ‘twould be? If I let ye watch me fook my own hand?”
She swallowed, then lied. “Aye, of course. ‘Tis no’ like I willenjoythis. I just need to ensure ye spill yer seed.”While I watch.“I will help.”
“Help?”His head snapped forward and he raised a brow at her.
“Aye.” Her voice sounded weak to her own ears. “Anything ye need.”
“Anything?”
Mutely, she nodded.
He groaned, and as she watched, one of his hands closed around his cock.
“Aye,” she breathed, her wide-eye stare riveted on the way the reddish-purple tip of his cock poked from his fist. “Like that.”
Thank St. Crystal she didn’t need to give him instructions, because she only had a vague idea what a man did to pleasure himself. Whereas, when she was alone in bed, she dragged her fingers along her swollen cleft, circling her clitoris and occasionally even pushing inside her core.
Men weren’t built that way. Which, considering she was staring at a man masturbating, seemed the understatement of the year.
But she caught her breath when the man began to move.
He stroked his cock, an up and down movement that took his closed palm from the tip of the member to the base. His other hand was fisted around his kilt—she couldn’t tell if ‘twas to keep it out of the way, or a sort of lifeline—and he was breathing heavily.
She forced her attention upward, away from his strokes, her gaze climbing his torso to his face.
He was looking at her.
He was stroking his cock as he looked ather, his gaze hard, intense. Full ofneed.
That, more so than even the fact she knelt between his knees, caused her heartbeat to quicken. A rush of liquid warmth flooded her core and she pressed her thighs together to try to assuage the ache.
“Is that…” She licked her lips. “Does that feel good, Ramsay?”
He didn’t answer, but from the corner of her eye she saw his strokes increase in tempo. A vein pulsed in his temple and the muscles in his throat jerked as he swallowed. It seemed as if he were holding himself back from something.
Or someone.
“Ramsay…” St. Crystal protect her, the longer he stared at her as he hand-fooked himself, the hotter she became. She shifted her weight, the movement causing her to gasp as slick skin caused delightful, surprising friction. “Are ye…?”
Why couldn’t her mouth seem to work? To make normal, coherent sentences? All she could think right now wasthick need mouth lick aye aye aye.
