Page 69 of Waiting for a Scot Like You
Sweat bloomed over her skin as she canted her hips up as much as she was able. “I can.”
“Good lass.” He slapped her clitoris again, this time with more force. Ecstasy careened outward, and she gave another cry, then another as he did it once more.
Release beckoned, and she stretched toward it.
“Not yet,” he admonished, and to her dismay, he removed his hand. When she made a noise of protest, he shifted so that he knelt beside her head. His eyes blazed as his chest rose and fell in a hard, rough rhythm. “’Tis my turn.”
She couldn’t look away as his hands tore at the fastenings of his breeches. He pulled out his erection and gave it a hard, tight stroke.
“Want to see my cock between your lips,” he panted.
God, how she loved to hear him use such filthy language, the disciplined officer becoming a man turned crude with lust. She licked her lips. “Give it to me.”
“Fuck.”With one hand, he cradled her head, lifting it up, and with the other still gripping his cock, he guided it to her.
The crown pressed against her lips, and when her tongue darted out to lick around it, she tasted the slick salt that seeped out. She opened wider for him. He leaned in, sliding his cock deeper into her mouth. The length of his shaft filled her, and she feared, briefly, she couldn’t take him completely. But she relaxed into the moment, and he slid all the way in.
He was still fully dressed, save for his bare shaft, and again she reveled in the contrast between them.
She sucked him, savoring his feel and taste, glorying in watching his face contort with pleasure. He panted with each dip of her head, cursing and growling praise as he gave her the gift of his trust. Cupping her tongue around the underside of his cock, she was unrelenting in pleasuring him. It was exquisite to be in service to him, yet she knew that of the two of them, she was the one with the power.
“Good lass,” he rumbled. “So good. Will ye take my come?”
In response, she increased her speed and drew on him harder.
He went still and snarled with his release, his seed shooting from him. She closed her eyes, swallowing him, delighting in her strength.
The bed creaked as he moved, and then his head was between her legs. She still stung divinely from his slaps. The stroke of his tongue between her folds soothed—and inflamed. As she twisted and writhed in her bonds, he devoured her. His fingers thrust upinto her, finding the pulsing spot deep within her passage, while his lips sucked on her clitoris.
Roused and maddened by need, she fell into sensation, knowing only the feel of his mouth on her. Any last vestiges of control slipped from her grasp, and she did not miss them at all.
She came apart, her cries loud enough to make her throat ache. Yet he gave her no time to bask in the afterglow before bringing her to climax again, even harder than before, and then once more. Golden light dazzled behind her eyelids as she flung herself into the pleasure he gave her.
“Not done with ye,” he growled.
She managed to open her eyes to see him fit his cock to her entrance. The touch of flesh to flesh scorched her. His gaze found hers. He paused, and she knew what he asked.
“Yes, fuck me,” she whispered. Then louder, “Fuck me, Duncan.”
He thrust into her, a hard, forceful plunge that made her bow upward, tugging on her bonds.
She could only lie there and take what he gave her, which was, true to his word, everything. His strokes were fast but deep, and she cried out with each one. His growls and grunts sent her arousal into a frenzy. He brought his fingers back to her clitoris, caressing her as he drove into her.
“Take it,” he rasped. “Take my cock.”
She came again, so intensely she felt consciousness ebb. Moments later, he pulled from her and shot his release across her stomach.
When awareness returned, she discovered him tenderly wiping her clean with a damp cloth. With the same gentle care, he untied her and rubbed her wrists and ankles to soothe them. He pulled the covers around her. As she settled into the blankets, she heard the sounds of him disrobing. The bed shifted as he climbed into it and curled his naked body around hers. Warmth engulfed her.
“Beautiful woman,” he said drowsily, nuzzling her shoulder. “Ye are a wonder.”
She could not answer. Spoken words seemed too small to contain what she felt. The whole world was too small to hold the immensity of her feelings, and she feared that they were so gigantic, they would tear her apart.
The following morning, Beatrice and Duncan went down for breakfast and found Lou sitting in the taproom. The girl looked tired but happy as she cradled a cup of tea.
As they sat down at her table, Lou beamed at them both. “You’ve added to the lore of Beaumont. What a gift you’ve given everyone—especially me. It’s not possible to thank you enough.”
To Beatrice’s delight, Duncan blushed. “Had to bedone,” he muttered. His voice was gravelly, either because it was still the morning or from embarrassment. “No thanks necessary.”
