Page 88 of Love with a Scottish Outlaw
“If ye’ve satisfied your curiosity, I’ll take ye to bed, aye?”
It was another moment where she could change her mind, but it was too late. She wanted what he offered, wanted to think of nothing but satisfying her body’s carnal demands. She wanted something that was hers, now, this experience, these memories, for she didn’t know if she’d ever have others like it.
Still holding on to him, she drew him back toward the box bed and sat down. He loomed above her, over her, and she let go as she fell back. Her hair spilled out around her, even as he braced himself above her and looked his fill with such admiration. Then he bent his head and kissed her mouth, her nose, her chin, moving ever downward, to the hollow of her throat, the wings of her collarbones, between her breasts. He teased her unmercifully then, kissing patterns up the swell of her breasts without ever quite reaching the peaks, until she was shivering and on the verge of begging him to touch her.
As if reading her mind, he licked across her nipple and she cried out at the absolute pleasure of it. He did the same to the other, before meeting her gaze and drawing her nipple deep into his mouth to suck. She shuddered and moaned.
“Don’t stop,” she begged.
When at last he did, she caught her breath in disappointment—until his kisses moved lower, and his body spread her thighs. He lingered at her belly, and she couldn’t even breathe.
“Duncan—” His name was a broken plea.
He murmured into her curls, “Should I stop? Or can I show ye what pleasure can be?”
She hadn’t imagined there could be more, that he would be so bold—but then he was her Scottish outlaw. She gave a nod, and he used his tongue in ways she hadn’t imagined a man would do. He pleasured her, he licked her, he suckled her, and she made the wildest gasps and moans as she felt that intense pleasure taking hold inside her again, tightening everything she was, focusing all her concentration, until the cataclysmic release had her shaking beneath him.
And then he came down on top of her, all hot hard muscle, and kissed her mouth until she could taste herself on his tongue. It seemed both embarrassing and exciting all at once. She held him to her with her arms, her thighs at his hips, felt the hard length of his arousal along the sensitive swollen flesh he’d just pleasured.
“I’ll make the pain quick and brief,” he said against her mouth.
When he slid deep inside her, she gasped at the sting, the uncomfortable intrusion.
Holding himself still, he asked. “Are ye all right?”
She nodded. “I was led to believe it could be worse.”
He smiled, that rare smile that made her see how he could have been if his life had been easier, a man who’d never take happiness for granted.
“I’ll make it even better,” he promised.
He slid partially out, then back inside, and those feelings that had just subsided now rose up again.
“Oh!” she gasped.
And then he was riding her, sliding against her, and she gradually changed from awkward to graceful as she learned how to move with him. In the shadowy darkness of the box bed, hidden away from the world, only he existed with her, his hard body that was made to bring her pleasure, his groans that told her she was all he needed, the damp heat of his skin, the salty way he tasted when she kissed his chest. The climax swept over her again, sudden and swift and welcome.
When he suddenly pulled out of her and thrust against her belly several more times, she wasn’t sure what was happening. He went still, braced on his elbows so he didn’t crush her, his chest heaving against hers. He rolled off, grabbed something off the floor and wiped her stomach.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Using my shirt to clean ye. Unlike some, I packed supplies for this journey and brought an extra,” he added.
The hint of amusement was rare, and made her smile. Then she frowned. “Clean me of what?”
“My seed. I didn’t spend it inside ye.”
Her eyes went wide, but he only lay on his back, forearm across his eyes, his chest still rising and falling. A baby. He’d thought to protect her from that scandal, but she hadn’t thought of anything except desire, so overpowering that even now she wanted more of it.
Coming up on her elbow, she looked down at herself, glistening with perspiration, with faint pink spots from passion. Yet instead of exhausted, she felt rejuvenated, aware of her body and the wonderful secrets it had been holding all this time. Then she turned to look at Duncan, and the firelight danced across the beautiful muscles that made up his form.
He peered out from beneath his arm. “Aye?”
A feeling of shyness swept over her—they were completely naked. She’d given in to passion, lost her virginity. She should feel upset and guilty, but didn’t. What would happen when they left this cottage, she didn’t know, but right at that moment, she didn’t want to think about any of it.
“Ye must be cold,” he said at last, then rose up to tend the fire.
That was when she saw the scars crisscrossing his back, and couldn’t help her gasp. But squatting down before the fire, he hadn’t heard her, and she was able to watch him move with grace, with power under control. She’d never imagined a man’s body could be so beautiful to her.
