Highland Captive Page 29

  “Thank you, dearling, but know that there was no possibility I would’ve said no.”

  He’d reached the top of the stairs now and smiled with just a hint of his old hubris. “Just as long as I agreed to tup you.”

  She smiled back at him, the devil he’d come to recognize gleaming in her eyes. She unfastened the tie of his shirt and glided her hand inside, rubbing her fingers through his chest hair and scraping her nails across his nipple. “’Twas a hardship for you, I’m sure.”

  The air left his lungs in a shaky breath, her touch igniting a sizzle of heat straight to his groin. “’Tis hard, all right,” he groaned, his stones on fire, and picked up his pace along the hallway.

  She stretched upward and opened her mouth over the pulse pounding at the base of his neck, first laving it with her tongue and then sucking at his skin. His knees almost buckled as they reached their bedchamber door, and he leaned against it heavily. “Inside,” he rasped, feeling around awkwardly for the latch to open it. It released suddenly, and he staggered in, then leaned his shoulder against the other side to shut it and bolt it closed.

  She stared up at him. Her eyes were glassy again and the lids heavy, her mouth red and wet. Never in his life had he seen anything as beautiful. “Did you know that after our first meeting, before I knew you had Ewan, I asked Kerr about you? I said that your lips were like the inner petals of a young rose.”

  She smiled in a sweet, pleased way. “And what was his response?”

  “I canna remember. I was too busy thinking about your lips.”

  She huffed out a laugh and then squirmed to get down.

  He released her legs reluctantly, and she slid to the floor. She stayed pressed to him for a moment before she stepped back and began to wander around his bedchamber. Her eyes landed on the big bed they would now share, then over to his desk, where her geometry set, parchment, and quills had been laid out. She approached the hearth and ran her fingers over the backs of the two chairs sitting in front of it, beautifully carved and with embroidered pillows on the seats and footstools. She moved across to the mantel, where Ewan’s toy horse stood watch—the one that she’d brought with them from their old keep.

  The fire burned low to keep the stone walls’ chill out of the air, and the shutters stood open to the bright, midmorning sunlight. Several tapestries lined the walls, two depicting fields of flowers and the other a hunting scene.

  She wandered back to the familiar four-poster bed with the midnight-blue canopy above it and the embroidered blue cover on top. He couldn’t wait to see her spread out over the quilt, her fair skin, red lips, and dark hair a gorgeous contrast to the blue. So lush and touchable.

  She traced her fingers up and down the wooded bedpost, looking a little uncertain. He waited to see what she would do.

  “’Tis an agreeable room,” she said.

  “Aye.”

  “And an agreeable bed.”

  “Aye.”

  Silence hung between them. She dropped her eyes, then raised them, looking at him through lowered lashes. More heat pooled in his groin.

  “Would you like me to undress?” she asked, her voice low and a bit husky.

  He had to swallow before answering, and his voice still croaked regardless. “Aye.” His cock strained so stiffly toward her under his plaid that it felt like she had him by the tip and was tugging. Hard.

  She might be smiling shyly, but the devil was back in her eyes, and he could see her anticipation. As awkward and nervous as she might feel, she wanted him to look upon her unclothed. “I’m not small,” she said as if to warn him.

  He almost laughed out loud. “Aye, sweetling, you are. You’re just rounded through your breasts and hips.”

  “And my arse.”

  He groaned. “I havenae forgotten about your arse, believe me.” He pushed off from the door and strode a few steps closer…and waited. Let her feel in control—let her take this at her own pace.

  She pushed her hair behind her shoulders, then reached up and pulled the ribbon from her dark locks. They tumbled free. He liked that. Her hands found the brooch that he’d gifted her—they’d replaced her old one with it after the mass had ended—and she unfastened it, so her dress loosened. She gave a wee shake that set her breasts in motion, and the dress slipped to the floor. She picked it up and laid it over the back of the chair, along with the brooch, then stood before him in her white linen shift, playing with the tie at her neck.

  “Loosen your shift, and then bend over and take off your shoes and hose,” he said.

  Her eyes rounded, and a delighted smile transformed her face. “You want to see my breasts as I lean over.”

  “Aye.” He grinned back. “Just a peek.”

  She tugged the linen tie, inch by inch, until it unknotted and fell open at the neck. He could see the tops of the twin mounds and down into the valley between them. Her nipples had hardened into stiff nubs that tented the material. She wrapped her hair over one shoulder and then angled herself toward him, so he’d have a clear view.

  “Like this?” she asked with a seductive smile as she slowly bent down, drawing out the anticipation. He found himself holding his breath, his eyes glued to her breasts as they pressed forward into the drooping neckline. One darkened nipple snagged on the edge, and his mouth watered. God’s blood, he couldn’t wait to taste her, to feel the rounded point on his tongue.

  “Aye just like that,” he ground out, unhooking his sporran and tossing it to the side, then squeezing his cock through his plaid. It almost hurt he was so engorged, so filled with need for her. He couldn’t ever remember wanting a woman this badly or feeling so out of control, but it was so much worse than being sixteen again, because he couldn’t just lose himself to pleasure. Nay, he had to make it good for her, so she wanted to be intimate again and again.

  Not like Cristel.

  She straightened with her hose and shoes in her hands, and her smile slipped. Uncertainty filled those soulful eyes. “Am I doing something wrong, Gavin? Your expression has changed. You look…pensive.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Nay. Everything is perfect. Beyond perfect.”

  She closed the distance between them, the darkened tips of her breasts swaying against the linen, and reached up to smooth her fingers over his puckered forehead. “Then why are there lines here?” She stroked her fingers down his jaw, neck, and shoulders. “And tension here…and here.”

  He caressed her back and over her hips to knead the rounded softness of her bottom, pressing their bodies together as he did so. His hips thrust against her belly, he couldn’t help himself, and the pleasure was so intense that his eyes almost rolled back in his head. “I’m tense because I’m like a lad with my first lover. My blood is so heated I just want to roll you under me and take my pleasure, and I canna do that.”

  She shivered, and her eyes turned molten. “Why not? Gavin, my blood is heated too. I want your hands and mouth all over me. I ache for you down there.” She reached between them and stroked her hand over his cock. He grunted and again thrust into her hand, so desperately out of control. “I want this part of you spreading my flesh and pushing inside. Every inch of me feels hot and heavy and swollen, waiting for you to make me yours.”

  He blew a forceful breath from his lungs, skimmed his hands back up to the safety of her shoulders. “It canna be so carnal. I want you to like it.”

  Her brows rose. “Have you not heard a thing I’ve said?”

  He nodded. “Aye, but—”

  “Nay. No ‘buts.’” She took a step back, frowning. “This is about Cristel, isn’t it? I’m not her, Gavin, and I doona want her in our bedchamber with us ever again. Look at me. Want me.” She backed away from him and gathered up the hem of her shift in her hands. It rose over her bare legs. He held his breath as it reached the V at the top of her thighs, longing to see that most private part of her.

&n
bsp; She stilled, hesitating, and when he dragged his gaze to hers, her eyes were filled with that teasing light again.

  “Show me,” he said, and then cursed himself for sounding so demanding.

  “Your plaid first,” she said breathlessly.

  He wasted no time loosening his plaid and toeing off his boots at the same time, then ripped off his hose. “My shirt too?”

  She nodded. With one hand, he reached behind him and grabbed the loose, white linen shirt that hung halfway down his thighs and yanked it over his head. He stood before her naked, his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths as if he’d just run around the castle wall, his eyes focused on her, his lips slightly parted. His cock was as hard as a bloody tree trunk and felt twice as big. His stones swung heavily down below.

  She was a virgin. He’d probably just scared the devil out of her.

  Except…her eyes drifted over him, needy and greedy. When they reached his groin, she sucked in a breath of air, and that engorged part of him twitched and swayed.

  Her mouth opened, and the tip of her tongue poked out. “Oh my.”

  She didn’t sound virginal. She sounded throaty and lusty.

  “Your shift, Deirdre. I need to look on you naked, Wife. Now!” He practically growled the words at her.

  “Fast or slow?” she asked.

  “Fast.”

  She lifted the shift higher, no teasing this time. Dark, wet curls appeared, covering her mound, and then the slight dips and swell of her belly. Her hips curved in at the top to a small waist before her breasts flared out again. God’s blood. They were perfectly shaped, round, high, and full. Her areolas were colored a darker pink-brown, and in the center of each, a hard nub thrust out.

  She pushed her hair behind square shoulders that exactly matched the proportions of her hips and raised her chin. Her pearl necklace circled her neck, glowing against her skin. He’d keep that on during lovemaking.

  “Am I…to your liking?” she asked.

  She tried to sound bold, but he could hear the tremble in her voice. He walked steadily toward her, feeling a little more in control, which seemed backward now that she was naked in front of him, but hearing her uncertainty—that heartbreaking doubt over her physical appeal—had raised his protectiveness all over again.

  “You doona want Cristel in our bedchamber? Well, I doona want your family in here with us either.” He lightly grasped her hips and pulled her against him. “You are to my liking, Deirdre. We may ne’er leave our bedchamber again.” His cock nestled against her belly, and his stones rested against her curls. “So much so I doona know where to touch you first. You’re like a feast laid out for me to devour.”

  He raised his hands to her face, and she closed her eyes and swayed against him. His fingers trailed over her brow and across her cheeks to her lips. “Should I start here?” he asked as he rubbed his thumb over her mouth. She parted her lips at his touch, and he could see the tip of her tongue peeking over the edge of white teeth. “Aye, right here.”

  He cupped her face and lowered his head until their lips barely touched, then rubbed his mouth back and forth on hers—lightly, gently, absorbing the petal-soft feel. “Like a young rose,” he said before planting his mouth on hers, seeking entrance. Her lips parted and his tongue slid across the welcoming wetness. They danced together, caressed one another, and then withdrew, only to go back in again. Deeper each time, a little rougher, more carnal—teeth scraping, even nibbling.

  Gavin pulled back, his breath sawing through his lungs. Her skin was tinged pink, her lips red and glistening, her eyes at half-mast. He caressed his hands down her neck to the tips of her shoulders, then over the top, trailing his fingers lightly down her spine. Her body undulated under his touch, and her breasts swayed, the hard tips pressing against his chest.

  “Or maybe I should have started here.” He kept one arm wrapped around her waist and slid the palm of his other hand around the front of her body, then upward to capture her breast.

  She moaned when he did and dropped her head back, her hands gripping his arms. “Oh, God in heaven, doona stop, Gavin. Aye right there, Husband.”

  He palmed her, loving the velvet-like feel of her skin, the sight of her breast overflowing into his hand. He brushed his thumb across the tip, the erect nipple branding his skin, and she let out a wee squeal. He grunted, his vision tunneling as he lowered his head and took the nub between his lips.

  Sensation burst through his mouth and shot straight to his groin. The smell of her—the sweetness of lavender from her soap mixed with the musky scent of desire—enveloped him. The taste of her—the essence of Deirdre—made him crave more. He opened his mouth wider to suck more of her breast inside, laving her nipple with his tongue in circles and broad strokes, then sucking on it. Finally, he used his teeth, scraping on the soft underside now wet from his mouth, and nipping gently.

  She groaned, her hips bucking against him. He bent her farther back over his arm. “Spread your legs,” he said, the words so low and guttural they were barely recognizable.

  She didn’t respond immediately, almost as if it took time for his words to penetrate the haze of desire clouding her mind. Then she widened her stance.

  He shifted his weight and wedged his knee between hers before dragging the core of her up against his thigh. He groaned as the heat and wetness there scalded his skin.

  “Oh God, Gavin. Oh God,” she panted, thrusting her hips against his muscles, sliding her sex along his leg.

  He leaned over her and buried his face between her breasts, inhaling and wallowing in the smell of their mixed arousal. It rose as their bodies heated and she readied for his possession.

  He kissed up to the tip of her other breast then feasted on that hard nub, sucked as much as he could into his mouth as their movements became more frenzied. His finesse deserted him, and he was left with only a desperate, carnal want and need. He thrust against the soft skin of her belly, both of his hands behind her now, supporting her, squeezing the soft curves of her arse.

  Then he grazed his fingers between her cheeks, sliding against her sex from behind. She arched her back with a throaty moan, pushing against his fingers, wanting him to touch her there. He gripped her inner thigh instead, and pulled it up and over his hip. She drew up her other leg at the same time so that she straddled him. Cupping his hands beneath her arse, he lifted her, and her body rose along his, their hips aligning.

  “Now?” she gasped.

  “I want my mouth on you first.”

  Three steps and he was beside their bed. She grasped his face between her hands and pulled him to her for another kiss, mouths open, tongues thrusting deep, teeth scraping. He knelt on the bed with her and laid her on the quilt, his body heavy on hers. Her heels met in the small of his back as they rocked together without yet joining. Her center was slick with arousal and he slid along the length of her with ease.

  She wrenched her head up and sucked in a shuddering breath. “Now?” she asked again, sounding desperate.

  He bit her chin. “Nay, I told you. I want to taste you.”

  “You did!”

  He huffed out a laugh at the insistence in her voice and then kissed along her jaw, sucked on her earlobe until she moaned. He laved over her throat to the delicate bones of her clavicle, and the pearl necklace that lay just below.

  “Not your mouth.”

  She writhed beneath him as he continued down her body, loving every inch of her with his hands, fingers, lips, and tongue. He gently pinched her nipples, licked over every swell and hollow, and ran his fingertips from her knee up her inner thigh. When he nibbled low on her belly, her thighs pressed wide by his broad shoulders, she let out a high-pitched keening sound.

  He swirled with his tongue over every love bite, then lifted his gaze, to take her in…and stopped breathing. She was watching him, her eyes almost feral with need, her parted lips r
ed and wet. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders and across the quilt and her breasts quivered with every panting breath she took, reddened with color at the tips from him sucking on them.

  She squeezed one of them with her own hand.

  He dropped his gaze and looked at her most private area, spread out just for him. Her nether lips flushed a dark, rosy pink, the folds swollen and wet…for him.

  For her husband.

  Aye, he did this to her. She was excited by his touch, by the idea of him looking at her, taking her over.

  This is how it should be between a man and a woman. A husband and wife. He had a real union with Deirdre, and he couldn’t be more grateful. Or more in love.

  “As much as I love your mouth, sweetling, this is where I want to taste you.”

  He lowered his head and licked with the flat of his tongue in a broad, slow stroke all the way up her slick skin to the nub at the top. She screamed out her pleasure and jerked her hips so hard she almost dislodged him.

  He pushed her knees farther apart, splayed her even wider for him. He held her in place as he licked and sucked and flicked with his tongue, then pushed it inside her body to taste all of her.

  Her hands were in his hair now, gripping the short strands as best she could. She held on tight as she found a quick thrusting rhythm, her throat arching as she grunted and groaned, her head thrashing back and forth on the quilt.

  She was almost at the brink when he lifted his head and moved along her body with quick kisses. He canted her hips up with one hand as he slid the other one behind her back, curling his fingers over her shoulder. He lay heavily between her thighs, his cock throbbing almost painfully at her entrance.

  “Deirdre.”

  She opened her eyes and gradually focused on him. “Gavin, I need you.”

  “Aye, love. Me too. Fast or slow?” he asked, just like she’d asked him earlier.