Page 28 of Kilty as Sin
His mouth was pressed against her temple. “Understand,” he repeated.
“Pleasure. Please, Barclay. Pleasure me.”
“I cannae.” He was hesitating, but his hand wasn’t. Even as he spoke, he was touching her, fondling her. His lips were brushing small kisses toward her ear. “I have a duty to my king.”
He sounded as if he were trying to convince himself.
“And I…” She turned in his lap so she could capture his mouth with hers. “I have a duty to myself. To my body,” she whispered against his lips.
For one excruciating moment, he froze, and she couldfeelhis indecision.
And then—miracle of miracles!—he exhaled, his hand finding her breast once more, and his lips claiming hers.
Before she had time to rejoice, his mouth was moving down her body, to her neck. She arched into his hold, and he fondled and licked and nipped until she was panting and squirming in his lap.
“Barclay!” she moaned, as he bent almost double to fit her nipple into his mouth. The plaid was spread across his lap now, and she was completely naked.
As he suckled, he used his free hand to nudge her knees apart, and one thigh gladly spread for him. His fingers went to her core, and at that first stroke, she almost came off his lap.
“Be easy,” he murmured, straightening once more. “That’s a good lass.” He moved the hand which had been supporting her back up to her neck, pressing her against his chest once more as he stroked her.
Grace’s eyes were wide, her breathing heavy, as every piece of her focused on the wet, throbbing place between her thighs. He held her in his lap and played her like an instrument.
And then his fingers found the pearl of her pleasure, nestled in her curls, and she jerked against him.
“Aye, like that. That’s a good lass,” he crooned, his touches featherlight, even as another finger rested against her opening.
She wanted—needed—more.
Arching her hips as much as she could, she tried to tell him without words what she needed. When he grinned, she felt it against her temple.
“Show me, lass,” he whispered in command. “Show me what ye like.”
So, she did. Breathless with need, she dropped one hand atop his, showing him how to press against her bud, how to circle it. None of his teasing strokes; she needed pressure!
He chuckled, then mimicked her, and with a sound very much like a kitten’s mewl, Grace’s hand fell away.
One of his fingers poised at the entrance to her core, and when she shifted up into his touch, he used that chance to slide inside of her.
‘Twas not the first time she’d experimented like this, but his finger felt so muchdifferentthan hers had; rough and thick and perfect. He stroked her from the inside, and when she gasped, “More!” he groaned and slid another within her.
His thumb found her bud and he circled it, the way she’d shown him, even as his fingers stroked her from the inside, touching places she didn’t think she’d be able to ever replicate on her own. The pressure inside her built higher and higher, harder and harder, until she felt as if she was on the edge of a precipice.
Then Barclay wrapped his fingers through her hair and tugged her head back until she was looking up at him, hazy-eyed with pleasure.
“Come for me, lass,” he commanded, before claiming her lips with his.
Pleasure exploded through her body even as his teeth pulled at her lower lip.
With a startled sound, she slammed her thighs together, trapping his hand inside her, as she bucked in his lap, trying to hold onto this incredible feeling of release. She heard him groan again, felt his hips rocking beneath her arse, but nothing could compare to the intense sensations coursing through her.
Pleasure.
He’d shown her such pleasure.
And she wanted more.
More.
