Page 53 of Waiting for a Scot Like You
“The next thing you need is to form a proper fist.” He took hold of her hand and curved it into the right configuration. “Never, never tuck your thumb into your hand, or you’ll risk breaking it when your fist comes into contact with your opponent.”
Unable to stop himself, he stroked his own thumb over the back of her hand, and then around to find the delicate place where her pulse fluttered in her wrist. No mistaking it. She was just as aroused as he was.
“Duncan?” she murmured.
“Aye?” His face was right beside hers, so that if they turned their heads a mere fraction, their lips would touch.
“Last night,” she said breathlessly, “you made me beg to come.”
“I remember,” he said hoarsely. Christ above, his cock was so hard it pained him.
“I liked it.” She shifted, turning so that they were chest to chest. He couldn’t stop from groaning at the brush of her breasts against him. Her gaze met his, and her words were husky. “I liked how you told me what to do. How you took control.”
“Aye,” he rumbled. “You want more.”
She nodded, her face and chest deeply flushed. “It’s as though... at that moment... I alone was the center of your universe. Nothing and no one else mattered.”
The unspoken truth of her words hit him like a punch to his chest. Her bastard husband had never made her feel important, in or out of the bedchamber. That son of a bitch hadn’t celebrated his wife.
It would be different with him. He’d give her more pleasure with the brief time they had together than she’d ever experienced in the whole of her life. And if he didn’t spill a drop of his own seed he wouldn’t care—it was and would be entirely about her.
“Beatrice.” He brought his hand up to cup her jaw, angling her head to place her exactly where he wanted her. Brushing his lips over hers, he said, “I’ll do what you ask. But you must let me know if there’s anything that makes you uncomfortable. Tell me to stop and I’ll stop. Aye?”
She swallowed. “Aye,” she said, making him smile.
“Now, be a good lass,” he said firmly. “Go stand against the wall and lift your skirts.”
She sucked in a breath, looking back and forth between him and the nearby wall. For the briefest moment he feared that he’d gone too far—after all, this room had no door, only a curtain, offering minimal privacy.
“And if I’m not a good lass?” she asked impudently.
A reckless joy broke inside of him. He brought hishand down to the base of her throat, letting her know who was giving the orders. “Then, I’ll punish you.”
Never before had the threat of punishment sent quakes of desire through Beatrice’s body. She trusted him enough to know that whatever he planned wouldn’t hurt her, not in a way that didn’t bring her pleasure.
She wanted to know what thispunishmentmight consist of, but she also craved obeying him, ceding her will to him entirely so that she might luxuriate in his attention.
Swallowing thickly, she eased back from his exquisite grip and made her way to the wall.
“Like this?” she breathed.
His stare was dark and potent, and now that she’d seen his warrior’s body in action, she knew precisely what he was capable of, and it made her heart pound. He crossed his arms over his chest, and to have all of that virility directed at her and her alone sent her head to spinning, as though she’d imbibed too much wine, yet craved more.
“Lift your skirt,” he commanded. “Like I told you.”
Hands trembling, she reached for the hem of her dress. She gathered up the fabric, but she had her own power, too, so she raised the material inch by inch, revealing herself in slow degrees. All the while, she kept her gaze on him.
His jaw went tight as she first uncovered her ankles, then revealed her calves, and more. There was nomistaking the thick shape of his cock pressed snug against the front of his breeches.
“Naughty lass,” he rumbled. “Taking your time. Tormenting me.”
“Is it working?” Excitement made her gasp.
He palmed his erection through his breeches, and the sight of his hand on his own cock sent warmth straight between her legs. “You know it is. Don’t think I won’t discipline you for being such a tease.”
She slowed her pace even more. Even through her stockings, the feel of her dress brushing up her legs made her bite her lip with arousal. How slow could she take it? How far could she push him?
She found out when, with a muttered curse, he stalked to her, crossing the room in two strides.
