Page 114 of Laird of Flint
“Och God, Carenza,” he murmured. “You’re magnificent.”
She smiled weakly. But if he thought she was magnificent now…
She could still feel his iron-hard staff against her belly. She wondered… Could she give him the same kind of pleasure he’d given her?
While she rested her head on his chest, she perused the physician’s shelves beside them. There was a row of oils—rosemary, lavender, hyssop, mint—with various medicinal uses. She’d once overheard two maids talk of pleasuring men with their hands and what kind of oil was best for the purpose.
Turning her attention back to him, she unfastened the leather belt at his hips and let it drop to the floor. Then she turned to force him back against the door and began gathering up his leine.
He paused her arm once to warn her, “This may be dangerous.”
She gave him a one-sided smile. “Only if I do it right.”
She pushed his leine up as far as she could and took a moment to worship his formidable chest with her lips.
“Hold this?” she asked.
He crossed his arms over his chest, holding the leine in place while she untied his trews and braies. His eyes closed, and his brow creased as she carefully slipped the garments down, allowing his rigid member to spring free.
She sighed in awe. Then she plucked the almond oil from the physician’s shelves. Uncorking the vial, she poured a small amount into her palm. She wrapped her fingers around him as tenderly as she could. But he still quivered and sucked in a sharp breath when she spread the oil over his velvet-soft skin.
“Does that hurt?”
The last thing she expected was a weak chuckle of amusement.
“Och nay, lass. It doesn’t hurt. Not e’en a wee bit.”
Her confidence restored, she began moving her hand experimentally over his warm, firm flesh. He pulsed within her hand as she slowly drew up and down his length.
“Do ye like that?” she ventured.
“Mmm.”
He opened his eyes a crack then, looking at her with such seductive adoration that all at once she wanted to be perfect for him.
But she had no experience with such things. “Will ye show me how?”
He nodded. Wrapping his free hand around hers, he guided her movements. The rhythm, slow at first, gradually increased along with the pace of his breathing.
Watching the changes in his expression, she grew enraptured by his sweet torment. Desire made a deep crease in his brow. Flared his nostrils. Tightened his jaw. The yearning in his face was beautiful. It mirrored what she’d felt. If coupling brought such sensations, how heavenly would it be to enjoy them together?
His breath suddenly hastened and deepened. The motion of his hand over hers became more rigid. He bent his head forward as if in anguish.
But it wasn’t pain. In the next moment, his back banged against the door. His hips rocked forward as he erupted in spasms of release, groaning and spilling his seed over their joined hands.
“Oh,” he panted, his chest heaving with exhaustion, “I’m sorry.”
But Carenza didn’t care about that. She was left speechless with awe.
He found a clean linen rag on the shelf and mopped up the mess. Then he let his leine fall between them and drew her into the circle of his arms.
She was still reeling with wonder.
She felt dwarfed by the magnificence of his passion.
Intoxicated by the heady power she wielded in her hands.
Honored by the trust he’d extended to her.
