Page 102 of Laird of Flint
She shivered as he bared her. Her tiny rosebud nipple tightened. She sighed as he lowered his head, brushing her delicate skin with his hair.
He placed tender kisses along the top of her bosom. Warmed her flesh with gentle breaths. Then he closed his lips around her nipple and bathed it with his tongue.
Her soft moan of delight gave him almost as much pleasure as the sweet taste of her. She arched toward him in invitation, and he swirled his tongue over her flesh. She gasped, fiercely clasping his shoulders, like an eagle holding onto prey. When he’d sampled his fill, he dragged down the other side of her leine, exposing her virgin breast, and began again.
Still, she couldn’t be satisfied. Eventually, she craved even more. When he gave her breast a final kiss and moved his way back up to her mouth, she whimpered in complaint.
She pressed forward against him, searing his flesh with hers and driving him to new heights of torment. Her breasts cleaved to his chest like sun-warmed silk. And below, she surely could feel the pressure of his swollen cock low against her belly.
But despite her hunger, he knew there was no more he could give her. It was a risky game they played. They should go no further.
Carenza had likely never played at such sport before. Hew had. It was up to him to stop things.
Curling one of her hands in his own, he withdrew his lips from her mouth to bestow a kiss atop her knuckles. Then he firmly but gently nudged her away.
“Wait,” she whispered, her eyes dulling with disappointment. “Don’t go.”
“I have to.” It pained him to say the words.
“But I want to feel your arms around me,” she gushed. “To keep kissin’ ye for hours and hours. To lie with ye, heart to heart.”
Her words were like ambrosia. But it was a love potion he dared not drink.
“So do I,” he admitted. “But you and I, we’re bound by honor. I cannot stain yours.”
Then he released her hand to restore her leine, returning it to respectable order.
Carenza didn’t want him to be right.
She felt as if she’d glimpsed heaven. Floated above the clouds. Sung among the angels. Never had she felt so loved, so cherished. And she didn’t want that feeling to end.
But it had to.
“Ye’re right, o’ course,” she said softly after her leine was set to rights.
As much as she liked to defy the constraints of nobility behind her father’s back, she knew this was something quite different. Stealing coos and taming crows was not the same as dallying with a man.
Still, the idea of not kissing him again was too awful to contemplate. It was with sadness, shame, and regret that she pinned on her arisaid once more.
Hew slipped into his leine, concealing his magnificent chest and the formidable rutting beast beneath it.
It occurred to her that he must be suffering as well. She’d heard a man’s ballocks could wither away from unrequited lust. She didn’t know if that was true. But it seemed possible.
She straightened to her full height and clasped humble hands before her.
“I’m sorry if I enticed ye into somethin’ ye didn’t want,” she murmured.
“Something I didn’t want?” He let out a low rumble of a laugh. “Och, lass, you have no idea how much I wanted it. How much I still want it. How much I wantyou.”
Her heart flipped over. “Ye do?”
“I’ve ne’er wanted a woman more.”
She didn’t know how that could be true. Surely a warrior of Rivenloch could have any woman he desired. But he seemed sincere.
Then he stepped near and framed her face with his hands.
“’Tis more than wanting you, my lady,” he said, gazing at her with eyes of liquid steel. “I’ve ne’erloveda woman more.”
