Page 20 of The Lady's Guide to a Highlander’s Heart
He’d touched her inside before, but his tongue was altogether different.
She closed her eyes. It was mortifying but she would endure it. Let him think she'd surrendered.
He held her firm upon his mouth and, inside, a deep pull took hold, responding to the pressure of his tongue's long strokes. She tried to hold back, to stifle the sounds she made, but it was futile. Whatever this was, Flora wanted more.
She’d been gripping the quilt but her fingers suddenly found their way into his hair and she wasn’t pushing him away. She hated him, but something was rippling through her, like the wind pushing hard across the loch, stirring up the waters and making everything bend to its will. A roaring need rushed through her, dark and hot, and she arched against his mouth, climbing higher.
He gave a low groan, his voice coaxing. “That be it, lass. Let it take ye.”
* * *
Her chest roseand fell with each breath as she lay back on the coverlet, her limbs relaxed at last. It had given him more satisfaction than he’d anticipated, seeing her quiver under his touch.
Despite her maiden state, she was a feisty one—throwing off her clothing to stand bare before him, goading him into bedding her without delay.
And she was more than ready for what he intended, thanks to the honey he’d brought forth. Damn good she’d tasted too. If he’d carried on, he’d little doubt she’d have swiftly reached her climax again, but he was no saint; the time had come to explore her with more than his fingers and tongue. He’d have no rest until there was a true union.
It had been a while since he’d wanted any lass this badly, and the throb in his groin had given him the devil’s own job to hold himself back, but he’d promised that the coupling would be mutually pleasurable, and it was a matter of honour to keep to his word.
God help him, he’d have to fight the urge to bury himself in her, or to toss her over and take her from behind, easing between her thighs.
And though part of him wanted her to know that she was helpless to all he desired, he wanted her to submit willingly—to desire him in the same way he did her. He couldn’t promise that she wouldn’t be sore in the morning, but he hoped she’d have some warm memories of his lovemaking to temper the discomfort.
Rising, he stood beside the bed. “Ye want me, lass?” He was aware of the raggedness in his voice. If she said no, he didn’t know what he’d do.
Although she didn’t speak, she gave a nod.
It was all he needed.
Unclasping his kilt, he set about joining her in the naked state. If they were to do this properly, he wanted to feel each womanly curve against his skin—to wrap her around him and, with any luck, encourage the lass into exploring the taste and feel of his own flesh.
As he stripped off the last of his clothes, it pleased him to see her cast her eyes over what would soon be hers.
* * *
Dear Father in Heaven,the size of him!
Having seen him in his bath, she knew, of course, but when he threw off his kilt, a surge of panic came over her.
She hardly had a moment before he was atop, taking his weight on his arms but making her very much aware of his warmth, and the hairiness of his body, and the hard muscles. Passing his hands gently over her shoulders and breasts, she was reminded of how the laird stroked that wolfhound of his, and how it looked at him adoringly when he did. Even now, it lay by the hearth, having followed on its master’s heels.
His caress came to rest on the indentation of Flora’s waist and she shivered beneath him, despite the fiery heat emanating from his warrior body. Every part of her had become aware of every inch of him. Even her lashes were aquiver, touched as they were by his half-kisses—ranging from her brows to the lids of her eyes.
“Ye trust me, lass?” He murmured softly, though his rigidity was already nestled where she was wet. “Kiss me, Florrie, and put yer legs about me. That’s the way tae take me full inside.” He rubbed his nose to the tip of her own, then brought his lips to meet hers.
His hands were guiding her to where he wanted, and she allowed him, letting his body sink further between her thighs. “Ye be soft and sweet, lass, and the man in me hungers tae take ye swift, but I’ll take every care.” His arousal was nudging at her and, though she did naught, her sex softened and parted for him. He entered her with a low groan and the shock of it made Flora cry out.
Ragnall held still, though he remained embedded within her. “’Tis only a short discomfort.” A sheen of perspiration stood on his forehead. “Slow and steady is the way; ye’ll soon see that having me inside ye is a pleasure.” As he spoke, he withdrew, then eased forward, his jaw clenching all the while.
It was impossibly tight and he was impossibly large. If he chose to move more quickly, or to thrust harder, she would certainly be hurt.
“Ye were made for me, Florrie.” Ragnall spoke breathlessly, working his length inside, finding a smoother rhythm—and her legs were doing just as he’d asked, twining about his, like ivy around oak.
She gasped as his next thrust penetrated further than the others, and he gave a corresponding moan.
Still, she thought,I can’t. I can’t.
But her body had other ideas.
