Page 42 of Scot of Deception
She was still coming down from her peak when Blaine draped himself over her and buried his face in her neck, mouthing at the sensitive skin there. She could feel him against her, thetip of his manhood brushing over her folds as he took himself in his hand and stroked himself fast, chasing his release, and she wanted nothing more than to feel that release inside her.
“Take me,” she said, putting as much of a demand behind her tone as she could muster. “I want ye, Blaine. Make me yers.”
A broken moan tumbled past Blaine’s lips, and when his hips twitched, Kathleen thought she would finally get what she wanted. But her celebration was premature, as Blaine restrained himself.
“Dae ye ken what ye dae tae me?” Blaine asked. “I… I cannae.”
Before Blaine could refuse even further, Kathleen took his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. “I willnae regret this,” she whispered. If he refused again, she would let it go, but she tried to show him just how much she wanted it, just how much her body craved it.
Something crumbled in Blaine when their gazes met. Kathleen saw it, the flicker of hesitation fading from his eyes at her request, the moment he made his decision to give her what she wanted. With one hand sliding under her head to cradle it in his palm, he gently guided himself to her entrance, stopping just short of finally entering her.
“Ye’re certain?” he asked.
Kathleen nodded fervently in response. “Aye.”
That was all it took for him to finally enter her, the tip of his manhood sliding past the ring of muscle. It was nothing like taking his fingers; he was large, the girth of him filling her up entirely and dragging against her sensitive walls. Kathleen was overwhelmed by the sensations—the languid brush of skin on skin, the heat of his lips on her neck once more, the slick sound of their coupling that seemed to echo in the silence of the room. When Blaine buried himself to the hilt inside her, he paused for a moment, and Kathleen tried to catch her breath, her body adjusting around him.
“Are ye alright?” Blaine asked her.
Kathleen could only moan in assent, rolling her hips to urge Blaine to move. That little movement had him gripping her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh as he gave her one thrust, then another, so slow and measured that Kathleen wondered at his control.
“Ye feel like heaven,” he said. “I willnae last inside ye.”
Despite herself, Kathleen was close too. Her last orgasm had left her sensitive and the feel of him inside her, the brush of his pelvis against her sensitive spot as their bodies met,threatened to coax another from her soon. She clung to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist, her pleasure growing with every thrust of his hips, every kiss he pressed to her lips. When Blaine lifted her hips just so, reaching even deeper inside her, it only took a few more pushes of him deep inside her for Kathleen to fall apart around him. Her pulsing core drew Blaine’s own release from him and he drew back just in time to spill over her thighs and mound as he cried out her name.
As they both tried to catch their breaths, Blaine rolled over onto his back on the rug, pulling Kathleen along with him so that she could curl up by his side. Kathleen moved with ease, nestling into his arms, unbothered by the fact that they weren’t on the bed. The fire was warm, and so was Blaine, and it was easy to let sleep claim her when she was cradled in his arms.
When she opened her eyes next, the soft light of dawn was filtering in through the windows. Kathleen blinked her eyes open, taking in her surroundings, and soon realized she was still in Blaine’s chambers, but now they were in bed. He seemed to have moved them at some point during the night, their limbs were still entwined, the two of them holding onto each other. Her head was laid on his chest and she could feel the gentle, steady rise and fall of it as he breathed, the slow drumming of his heart under his ribs.
She closed her eyes for another moment, basking in the fleeting joy. In that room, where there was no one but the two of them, she could pretend that this was her normal,everyday life. She could pretend that she would never lose that, that every day would start in just the same manner.
What delight it would bring her to wake up next to Blaine for the rest of her life! No other happiness could compare.
Soon, though, reality settled back in as Blaine stirred underneath her, his breaths turning shallow as he slowly woke. Kathleen glanced up at him, wondering what she would find when their gazes met—regret, perhaps, or shame. She was prepared for it. She was prepared to be told this could never happen again.
Blaine said nothing. He only leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head, taking a moment to hold her before he slipped out of the covers and began to dress.
Once Kathleen realized Blaine would say nothing, she stood and dressed, too, the two of them moving in silence. The festivities had only just begun, after all, and soon, they would both be required to attend the formal breakfast.
As Kathleen headed to the door to get to her chambers and prepare for the day ahead, she hesitated, turning to look at Blaine over her shoulder. What was he thinking, she wondered? What was he feeling?
Would she ever get to know?
Though once again, Blaine remained silent, he approached Kathleen and pressed another tender kiss to her forehead before she left. And Kathleen, despite her fears, despite all the unknowns, could believe that everything would be alright in the end, as long as they had each other.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Blaine sat stiffly in his seat across from Kathleen. The entire time she had been in his chambers, he hadn’t managed to find the right words to speak to her. Now it was impossible, surrounded as they were by so many people.
Several tables had been pushed together to create the formal setting for the breakfast in the great hall.
As Kathleen was seated near her friend, Blaine ended up sitting by the laird’s side, right by the head of the table. On the one hand, that meant that he could easily avoid most of the nobles that sat around the table, chatting idly over their plates of cured meats and cheeses and fruit—and several other delicacies Blaine rarely saw. On the other, it meant that he had to engage the laird in polite conversation, or rather allow the man to engage him in one such conversation, as he was the one doing most of the talking.
“It seems fittin’ tae me that ye would be sittin’ there, in that spot,” said Laird Stewart, and Blaine couldn’t help but frown in confusion at the comment. “That was always the seat o’ me good friend an’ the clan’s war leader. He passed nae too long ago, killed in a raid.”
“Ach, me condolences,” said Blaine, though he still didn’t know how that had anything to do with him. “Terrible things, raids.”
“Och aye,” said Laird Stewart. “He was a good man. A big lad like yerself.”
