Page 63 of Tangled in a Highland Conspiracy
He kissed her again, then sat her upright so that he could begin the tedious business of undoing all the laces and buttons on her dress. “Why do ladies need so many fastenings?” he asked, exasperated.
Ailsa said nothing, but swung her feet off the bed and stood up, then turned her back to him so that he could undo the rest of the laces. At last, he had finished, and he turned her around and looked into her eyes as he slid the dress over her shoulders to land on the floor at her feet.
Ramsay stepped backward and gazed his fill at the exquisite form of the woman who was now his wife. He looked his fill at her beautiful heart-shaped face and long, swan-like neck, her round full breasts, and her tiny waist that flared out to curving hips.
With the shapely columns of her long legs and the small thatch of auburn hair between them, she was perfect—and she was his. He felt his manhood harden even more, and he could hardly take his eyes off her.
Ailsa’s first instinct was to try to cover herself with her hands. Her cheeks were flaming and she was gazing at the floor, embarrassed both by her nudity and her reaction to Ramsay’s touch. It had been more pleasurable than she could ever have imagined, and now as she raised her eyes and looked at the man who was now her husband, she found herself trembling with need.
It gave her the courage to demand, “Take your clothes off, husband.”
Ramsay’s eyes widened in surprise before he grinned, then began to throw his clothes off as though they were burning him. The last garment to go was his kilt. He watched Ailsa closely as he unbuckled his belt and let it fall to the floor.
Ailsa raised her hand to cover her mouth as she stared at him. She had never seen a naked man before, and she realised that he was everything that she was not. Where she was soft and rounded, he was hard and bony, and where she was smooth, he was hairy.
She was looking at the very epitome of manliness. Ramsay’s face was as unlike hers as it was possible to be, with chiselled features, a square jaw and deep-set eyes under heavy eyebrows.
His neck was thick, with a prominent Adam’s apple, and it broadened into wide powerful shoulders, under which was his broad flat chest, dusted with dark hair. The muscles on his stomach led to a narrow waist and hips, then bulging, muscular thighs.
His arms looked strong enough to lift tree trunks, she thought, studying them to put off the dreadful moment she had to look at his penis, which was pointing at her threateningly.
“Come here,” Ramsay said softly, holding out his hand. When Ailsa took it, he placed her hand on his shaft and wrapped her fingers around it. It felt strange, soft, and velvety on top, then harder underneath. As she moved her fingers, she heard him gasp, so she pulled away, but was shocked when he put it back.
“Did I hurt you?” she asked, concerned.
“Definitely not,” he answered. He could not explain the thrill of delight that had gone through him when she touched him. “It makes me want you even more.” His voice was almost a growl, then he smiled wickedly and hauled her back into his arms. They tumbled onto the bed and he rolled her over, pinning her down underneath him.
He kissed, nibbled, and licked her all over until she was crying out with pleasure. Then he gently inserted one, then two fingers inside her, moving them in and out as he had done with his tongue while teasing her clitoris with his thumb.
At the same time, he teased her nipples with his tongue, lips, and teeth, and Ailsa held onto his head as he moved as if by letting go of him she might fly away. Her hips bucked off the bed and she groaned in delight as she lay, helpless and at his mercy.
Ramsay paused for a moment and looked up at her.
“Please,” she pleaded. “I want?—”
“I know what you want,” he whispered. He settled between her legs and kissed her softly, then began to gently insert himself inside her, little by little, inch by inch, until he found resistance. It took a great effort of will, but he stopped and looked questioningly into her eyes.
“Go on,” Ailsa whispered. She felt a stabbing pain, but it was over almost as soon as it had begun, and then she was open to him, receiving him into her body as he thrust again and again. His body moved on her and into her, heavy and masculine but very tender, and she felt fully joined to him at last. This was why men and women existed; to complete each other.
Ailsa began to beg for something; something she knew was there, but could not explain. “Ramsay, I need—” She pleaded.
“Do you want something else?” he asked, but now his tone was not gentle, but husky, almost hoarse.
She nodded, having lost the ability to speak.
Ramsay began to thrust into her, harder and faster, and Ailsa found herself moving her hips in tandem with him in a rhythm that was as old as time itself. She felt the hardness of his chest against her body and reached down to cup his muscular buttocks as he moved, hearing him groan with pleasure.
Then something new was happening, something strange and wonderful. Ailsa was striving to reach something that seemed inaccessible at first. She felt as though she was climbing a mountain whose peak was just out of her sight, and then, as Ramsay thrust into her one last time, she reached it.
A wave of utter ecstasy flooded over her and she clung to Ramsay, shaking and screaming with pleasure. She had not been prepared for this, and as Ramsay cut off her cries with a searing kiss, she clung to him helplessly.
The sight of Ailsa’s face as she reached her climax brought Ramsay to his own, and he shuddered as the fiercest orgasm he had ever had slammed into him. He wrapped his arms around his wife—his wife! Then he drew her closer, loving the feel of her warm soft flesh against his. “How do you feel?” he asked softly. “Did I disappoint you?”
“Definitely not,” Ailsa shook her head, laughing. “I never knew anything could feel like that. Thank you, my love.”
“Thank you too,” he replied. He smiled into her eyes.
“When can we do it again?” she asked mischievously.
