Page 55 of A Plaid Case of Loving Ye
“I live to serve, wife.”
St. Crystal’s little toe, the man knew how to use his tongue! The chamber was silent for a moment, save for the wet sound of his ministrations and her desperate breathings.
He was the one to moan, and since his mouth was latched on to her breast at the time, she swore she could feel the vibrations throughout her body.
Her fingers tightened in his hair, tugging him closer, closer.
With a gasp, he wrenched himself upright and began to fumble for his belt.
“Here, let me.” Not that her fingers were any steadier. “Dinnae pull out yer stitches.”
“Fook the stitches,” he growled. “I’ll have my wife re-do them.”
“Yer wife has other things she wants to focus—ooh.” His cock, already thick and full, landed in her palm. When she instinctively squeezed, he groaned and thrust his hips forward.
That was the last coherent words either of them spoke for a while. In a frenzy, they pulled clothes from one another and tumbled naked together onto the large bed, where Ramsay braced himself over her.
His stitches appeared fine.
“I’m going to make ye burn,” he growled.
In response to his promise, she reached for him with a desperate whimper. But he interrupted her with a hard kiss then nibbled his way down her jaw to her neck and then her breasts. St. Crystal protect her, his lips! His lips wereremarkable!She moaned again as he trailed hot kisses down her stomach and then—
Well, Nicola choked on her own tongue when Ramsay’s found her core.
Instinctively, her knees fell apart as he licked and suckled and stroked. His lips closed around the little bud of her passion, hidden among her curls…and she screamed his name.
‘Twas all the encouragement he needed, because suddenly he was there once more, atop her. He slid into her, his thick cock still stretching her, making her feel at home. She wrapped her legs around his, planting the bottoms of her feet against the back of his calves, as her fingernails dug into his shoulders.
“Aye, that’s the way, lass.”
“Move, Ramsay!”
He chuckled. “I was giving ye time to get used—”
“I’m used to ye! If ye dinnae begin to move, I’m going to have to do it all myself!”
Matching words to deeds, she flexed her hips forward, managing to capture even more of his hardness into her core, and he growled in response.
Apparently, he didn’t like the idea of her doing all the work, because he began to move then, thank St. Crystal! Thanks to his tongue, Nicola was already well on her way toward her ecstasy, and his movements—gentle thrusts at first before he seemed to lose control—sent her ever closer.
“Ramsay!” she gasped. “Aye!”
Each thrust wrenched a grunt of satisfaction from him, until they came so close to one another he was groaning instead.
She tightened her hold on him, the maddingly perfect friction between them making it nearly impossible to think, until—
He captured her lips with his, his tongue plunging inside to play with hers, and she tasted herself on him. That, more than anything, sent her over the edge.
When the pleasure burst over her, he captured her scream with his mouth and stiffened. He didn’t bother hiding his own ecstasy, but threw his head back and roared as her core spasmed blissfully around him.
They collapsed, still tangled up in one another, atop the mattress, and he rolled to clasp her against his chest. It was a long moment before either had enough breath to speak.
Finally, she pushed herself off him and reached for his forearm. Twisting it this way and that, she hummed. “Well, I suppose strenuous exercise didn’t harm it too much.”
“I told ye, lass, I’m made of stronger stuff.”
She fixed him a playful glare. “Husband, since I’ve kenned ye, ye’ve been stabbed twice, had an arm broken, and been bashed on the head. ‘Tis nae wonder I worry about ye. If this continues, ye’ll be dead afore Relic is walking.”
