Page 75 of My Scot, My Surrender
“Aye,myduchess.”
His hot, possessive gaze swept her, his body stirring at her lush, fierce beauty. The terrible scars did little to detract from the svelte perfection of her long limbs, her flat, muscled stomach, and the sweetness he knew lay between her thighs. Instead, they branded her as a fighter. A woman of fury and strength and passion. Brandt was mad for her.Allof her. He kissed her again deeply, and then met the blazing, sapphire gaze that had captured him from the first.
“Sorcha, you are perfect. Every part of you. Every scar.” He kissed her ravaged cheek. “Every freckle.” He kissed her nose. “Every lovely unique thing that makes youyou.” He nuzzled the space between her breasts, his hands and tongue finding the taut silk of her nipples once more. “And especially these. You taste like ripe, succulent berries.”
She arched against him, her breathing quickening. “You’re certain they don’t repel you?”
Brandt grinned and directed her palm to the bulging fall of his breeches. “Does it seem like I’m repelled in the least?” He groaned when her fingers closed around him and he gathered her into his arms. “God, I can’t believe I waited this long.”
“You could have taken me on the river rock,” she whispered, her fingers rising to pluck at the hem of his shirt and, mimicking him, scraped her fingers over his nipples. The sensation, paired with her heady, bold talk, awoke the basest of desires inside of him. His erection pulsed and hardened.
“I could have taken you on our wedding night,” he rasped, joining in as he continued pushing the top of her dress down farther, the chemise caught in the quickly disappearing fabric. “Tell me the truth, my sweet. You would have given yourself to me, even then, wouldn’t you?”
He lowered himself, his tongue and teeth and lips exulting over the newly bared skin. He snagged the waist of her drawers on the way down, and knowing neither of them wanted to move slowly or with caution, took those down as well. His tongue circled Sorcha’s navel as he bent onto one knee.
“Tell me,” he insisted, wanting to hear his warrior wife’s bold words. Needing them. He lifted her foot and set it on his thigh, opening the most private part of her to him. He touched her silky thatch of curls and ran one finger along her heat. “Say it, Sorcha. Tell me what you would have let me do to you.”
Her eyes were hazy with want, her cheeks and breasts flush with her longing for him. Paralyzed with desire, she moved her lips wordlessly. Brandt pushed his finger into her wet heat and she moaned, tightening her thighs to grip his hand. But she let out a disappointed cry when he retreated.
“Tell me,” he repeated.
“I…I would have let you fill me,” she said, her voice weak but clear. “I would have let you touch every part of me, kiss every part, take every part that was yours to take. God, Brandt, your tongue is wicked.”
Fill her. That was what he wanted, to pour himself into every part of her body. To breathe with her, feel with her. Make her his. This woman, a stranger less than a fortnight ago, now called him to her with a voice he recognized deep in his heart and soul.
“It is yours.” He set his mouth to her, sliding his tongue where she desired it most.
“Brandt!” She gasped and clutched his hair in two fists as he licked and sucked at her dewy flesh. She tasted just as she had before, like a blazing Highland summer sunset, hot and sweet. He clung to her, devouring her with long, needful strokes.
“And I am yours,” he heard her say as the blood rushed through his ears, swirled down into his acute arousal, and made him dizzy with need. “I am yours.”
…
Sorcha’s head fell back on the bed as her limbs turned boneless beneath his hands. Brandt had taken her down this road to pleasure before, but something was different. It wasn’t in the way he touched her or the feel of his mouth on her skin. It wasn’t in his words, though something had changed…something profound and unqualifiable. It’d been in the tender way he’d kissed her ugly, lacerated flesh, loving her as if she were perfect and unscarred. She’d never imagined willingly baring herself to anyone…but with Brandt, she’d done what she had feared most. She’d trusted him with all of her. Theworstof her.
He hadn’t told her he loved her, but he had said she was his and that she was his wife. The change she saw was in his eyes, in the way he looked at her, as he was now from the juncture of her thighs while his mouth did indecent things. His hands cupped her buttocks, lifting her hips as his lips continued their tender onslaught. Their eyes met and held, and what she saw swirling in their hazel depths made Sorcha’s body come apart with the force of a shooting star. Possession. Dominion.Surrender.
Pleasure broke through her veins in igneous waves, cresting and swelling, until her entire body felt limp. And still Brandt didn’t stop, prolonging the bliss with each decadently punishing stroke of his tongue. The shattering pulses wound through her, making her body arch like a bow even while it felt like her bones had turned into strings of gossamer.
“Brandt,” she called out weakly, and only then did he relent.
Her husband inched up her sweat-dampened body, kissing her stomach and each rib, nipping gently at her breasts. She focused on him, on his handsome face, and those glittering eyes that seemed more golden than green. Sorcha never put much faith in Scottish fairy tales, but right now, she would swear that he was indeed part summer fey.
“How did I ever find you?” she whispered.
“With a kiss,” he murmured, taking the peak of one breast into his mouth and drawing on it gently. Flickers of sensation spread from the flesh caught in his mouth to her still-trembling core. “With your courage,” he said, switching to the other breast. “With your fierce heart.”
He turned his head sweetly, as if to listen to the heartbeat that pulsed erratically beneath his ear. Sorcha wound her fingers into Brandt’s soft hair, the tenderness of his words wreaking more havoc than his touch. But his words faded as he resumed his efforts, busying himself with teasing her breasts to hard, aching points.
Sorcha took in a breath as she felt the thickened girth of him on her thigh. She was ready. She wanted to take him into her…for him to fill the emptiness inside. Lifting her feet, she ran them along the backs of his and reached down, her hand closing gently around him. He groaned at her touch, his teeth closing over one nipple with more pressure.
“Brandt,” she said. “I need you.”
He moved higher, to take her lips in a soft sweet kiss, and then surprised her by detaching her slack grip and rising up, onto his knees. “First, I plan to explore every velvet inch of this property of mine.”
“Property?” She gaped at the beautifully erect sight of him but wasn’t allowed to fully appreciate it, for in the next second, her husband gripped her hips and flipped her onto her stomach.
“Yes.” He leaned over and bit her gently on the shoulder. “You belong to me.”
