Page 72 of Return of the Scot
“Please,” she murmured.
He grinned. “Ye need no’ beg, lass, for I have no plans to waylay this decadent treat.” And then he placed his lips there, his wicked tongue stroking along her folds until he reached that tight knot of euphoria.
Jaime’s fingers curled into the coverlet, her head thrown back in pleasure as he swirled and licked and sucked. He took his time tormenting her. Fast then slow, and then he’d pull away until she begged him to come back. Over and over, until at last, that blessed peak descended upon her, shattering her insides. Her legs shook violently as her body exploded in pleasure. Back bowed, hips thrust forward. Oh, it was heaven.
When she was finally able to open her eyes, it was to watch Lorne take off his breeches, his male organ springing free of the confines. She had thought she’d be frightened of it when she finally did see it, having only felt it before when he rubbed it against her. However, Lorne’s body did nothing but make her want more. She beckoned for him, and he didn’t hesitate climbing over her, between her thighs. He rested on an elbow, his face near hers, his warm, thick shaft probed with scorching delight at her center.
“Are ye ready?” he asked.
His fingers danced over her thigh, to her pulsing core, and he slipped one inside of her. She lifted her hips, arched her back and moaned. Another finger dipped inside, stretching her most deliciously.
“Aye,” she whimpered.
There was that wicked grin again. “Ye are, my love.” Lorne took hold of his length and slid it along her wet folds until he lodged at her entrance. “This may hurt, but only a little, I hope.”
He kissed her then, stroking his tongue along hers, a soft moan on his lips as he surged forward, breaking the barrier of her entrance, claiming her body as he seized her mouth. She cried out at the sudden intrusion, at the small pinch of pain. While his body stilled on top of hers, inside of her, his mouth continued to work, kissing her with such passion she soon forgot the discomfort of their joining.
“Are ye all right?” He hovered over her, eyes locked on hers.
“Verra,” Jaime said with a smile.
“Good.” He kissed her again, then trailed his lips down her neck as he started to move. He swirled his tongue over her nipple, sucked, licked. His hips pulled back, then pushed forward again and again while his mouth and hands seemed to be everywhere.
Jaime spread her legs wider, her eyes open in surprise at the pleasant sensations rippling from within. She’d not expected it to feel so good…so different than his mouth on her. It was an altered, deeper pleasure.
With her arms and legs wrapped around her husband, Jaime let him take her to unknown lands. His body was magic. Every second heightened her pleasure. She gasped, moaned, and he did the same, sharing in the heady sensations. The way her pleasure had intensified with his mouth on her started all over again.
She clung to him, her hips rising to meet his thrusts. Lorne’s pace increased, his breath on her neck coming faster and faster, sparking even newer heights inside her. She could barely catch her breath before another gasp of bliss was pushing all the air in her lungs back out again.
Just when she thought it couldn’t get any better, she reached her climax. A cry of pleasure echoed from her throat. Everything tightened within her and out of her, and Lorne groaned loudly as her body spasmed around him. He thrust harder, faster, and then he too was crying out her name.
“Oh, Jaime, my love.”
They rode the waves of ecstasy together, their breaths coming in pants, their bodies slick from exertion, until he collapsed, rolling to his side and pulling her with him.
Lorne kissed to her tenderly on the forehead, and his arm tucked protectively around her. “I hope I did no’ hurt ye.”
“Oh, no, ye did the exact opposite.” She stroked the side of his face and smiled. “So far ye’ve proved me wrong about my thoughts on marriage, although to be fair I had no’ taken into account this side of things. And though I’ve no experience, I must imagine ye are quite good at what ye’re doing.”
Lorne chuckled. “I love ye, Jaime Hardheaded Andrewson Gordon.”
“Oh, goodness, I’d no’ realized my new name yet. ’Tis a good, strong name.”
“And goes perfectly with a good, strong woman.”
Jaime sighed and snuggled closer. “I love ye, my husband.”
17
Lorne woke before dawn, a habit he’d embraced well before he’d had to dodge bombs and his captors. However, what surprised him this morning was waking to an empty bed the day after getting married.
He bolted upright, afraid that it had all been a dream.
“Jaime?” he called, but there was no answer from the adjoining dressing room.
Lorne shoved aside the coverlet and rose. Splashed some water on his face and dressed in breeches and a shirt. No doublet, as he didn’t often dress formally when at Dunrobin since he spent much of his day working with his people in the fields, farms or stables. He would have preferred his kilt, but that required more time to assemble than the breeches at the moment.
In the great hall, he found his wife sitting at the far end of the table, though not at the head, sipping a cup of tea and reading. There was a low fire in the hearth, crackling and popping. The thick walls muffled distant sounds of the servants working. Mungo stood by the door leading to the kitchens and nodded at Lorne’s greeting.
