Page 26 of The Butterfly
“I willnae ruin ye,” he stated.
“But …”
He pressed his finger more firmly against her mouth and shook his head. “I’ll give ye pleasure, and teach ye how to pleasure me without me havin’ to be inside ye. That’s the only way I’ll agree to this. Ye ken?”
What else could she do but agree? This would be better than nothing, and she adored him for caring enough to prevent ruining her for whomever she might marry. Though, with the way he looked at her just now, touching her as if she were the most priceless thing in the world, she hardy cared if he did.
He swept her off her feet so swiftly, her head spun, his arms a strong cradle, his hands tight and possessive. She clung to his neck while he carried her to his makeshift bed, kept a tight hold on him even after he had lain her down.
With her hands laced through his hair, she urged him to kiss her, opening her mouth to him the way he had taught her. Truly, he had taught her everything she now knew about pleasure—how it felt to kiss and be kissed, the feel of a tongue against hers, the weight of a hand palming her breast, the sensation of lips nibbling at her ear and the side of her neck. That he would be the one to show her the rest—everything she could experience without the final act—felt right to her. It felt like destiny. It felt like the best thing they could ever have.
He climbed onto the pallet over her, never disengaging his mouth from hers. His tongue probed deep, his mouth sucking and pulling at hers as if he meant to swallow her whole, consume her completely. She closed her eyes and kissed him back, reveling in the sensations he created with the simple act of laying his body atop hers.
Most of his weight was supported by his arms, but he was still solid, warm and heavy against her. His long legs fell on either side of hers, the bulges of his taut thighs in sharp juxtaposition to her soft ones. The pressure of his chest teased her aching breasts, the flat planes compressing her soft mounds. Even his belly was firm, etched in muscle she could feel through the thin linen of his shirt.
The most masculine part of him rested against her thigh, engorged and heavy. That he was still fully clothed while she lay nude beneath him only heightened the experience, her mouth watering at the prospect of finally being allowed to see what he looked like under his clothes. It had been different when they were children and he’d swum in only his trousers. Years had passed since she’d even seen him without a shirt, and this powerful body hovering over her was so different from the one she had once known. Different, mysterious, and for the nonce, entirely hers.
Her hands left his hair and skimmed over the back of his neck, past the collar of his shirt, down to where his braces crossed his shoulders. She pulled them off, then began yanking at the tails of his shirt, desperate to have him as naked as she was, his skin hot and bare against hers.
He tore his mouth away from hers, suddenly coming onto his knees so that he straddled her. Gathering both her hands in one of his, he pinned them over her head, his iron grip rendering her motionless. He gazed down at her for a moment, the stern expression he wore speaking volumes. He’d always teased her for being impetuous, so it seemed that just now, he wanted her to tame her impulses. He wanted her to let him lead … as he should, being the one who actually knew what to do.
Still holding her wrists with one hand, he used the other to stroke her cheek, his fingers tracing a slow path over her jaw, then her neck, collarbone, and chest. Every place he touched, goose bumps rippled over her skin in his wake, tingles of awareness dancing over her skin.
“I’ve always liked porcelain,” he murmured, his fingers lingering on one breast, slowly tracing a circle around the nipple without actually touching it. “Do ye know why?”
She could hardly breathe, let alone speak, her breath burning in her lungs as she shook her head. He smiled, bypassing her nipple to skim his way across her chest and to her other breast, causing her to exhale with a huff of frustration.
“Because it always reminded me of yer skin,” he told her while giving her breast a little squeeze, his rapt attention focused on the way it caused her nipple to respond. “I used to touch this bit of porcelain I hid in my room and think ‘this must be what her skin feels like’. But, I was wrong, ye know. Yer far softer and warmer than any bit o’ porcelain could ever be.”
She gasped when he dipped his head to kiss her throat, lifting her chin to offer more of herself to him. His lips traveled with aching slowness down toward the center of her chest, the rough stubble along his jaw abrading her skin in contrast to his soft mouth. Her back lifted into an arch, creating an almost painful tension in her shoulders from the way he held her wrists.
But, she did not resist, the sensation making her feel as alive as Niall’s lips on her skin exploring places previously untouched by anyone but herself. Curiosity had often prompted her to stroke the sensitive areas of her body, testing them, discovering what stimulating them might do. However, nothing had ever felt as heavenly as Niall’s tongue stroking between her breasts, down her belly, dipping into her navel. The valley between her thighs did not throb and pulsate this way when she touched her own breasts, but just the gentle cupping of Niall’s hand on one of the mounds made her yearn in ways she never had.
He flicked his thumb over her nipple, producing a startled gasp from her. Gazing up at her face with hungry anticipation in his eyes, he gave the same nipple a pinch, the corner of his mouth lifting into a little smile when she whimpered.
“D’ye like that, Livvie?”
“Y-yes!”
He did it again, harder this time, making her thighs clench and an aching spasm grip her core. Releasing her wrists, he palmed her other breast and began plying her nipples in tandem, tugging and gently twisting until they grew so hard, it was agonizing. She’d never want him to stop, the pleasure of it far outweighing the slight discomfort. She shuddered beneath him, unable to lie still while he continued in his pleasurable torture.
“I should’ve known ye’d be like this,” he murmured. “Ye might look like a perfect little doll, but yer all fire inside, Livvie … all passion and life, and I’ve barely even touched ye yet.”
She could only moan in response when he murmured those last words against her breast, before parting his lips to take her into his warm, wet mouth. She hadn’t thought it possible for her nipple to harden any more, but it responded to his tongue in a way it had not to his fingers, tightening and tingling until she’d nearly gone mad with the pleasure of it.
Her back arched even more, her hips pressing against his as she mindlessly sought more from him. She did not even know what ‘more’ entailed, only that she must have it, and at his hand.
He took his time, his mouth moving from one breast to the other and back again, his tongue laving slowly, then flicking with swift lashes, his teeth nipping, lips tugging. She clutched his head, her fingers tangling in his hair as she held him against her, writhing and twisting as much as his legs on either side of hers would allow. All the while, his erection lay against her thigh, pulsating with a life all its own, filled with power and promise.
Niall’s hands left her breasts, then, he was working his way down her body, his fingers skimming over her stomach, followed by his mouth, his breath tickling the patches of skin left damp by his wandering tongue.
Her face flamed hot when he paused just over the patch of hair at her groin, nuzzling the dark curls, inhaling and sighing as if her scent pleased him. Olivia could only lie there and wait, despite being shocked beyond belief. She had known that he might touch her there, but could never have imagined he might do something likethis.
“Open, Livvie,” he urged, pressing light kisses against her mons. “Spread those pretty legs for me.”
If her cheeks grew any hotter, she might go up in flames. She would not deny him—not after she had coerced him into this, stripping naked and offering herself to him. Besides, she had gone too far to turn back now, could not leave this hayloft without experiencing whatever it was he wanted to do to her.
She bent one knee, then the other, squeezing her eyes shut so she did not have to suffer the embarrassment of watching his face while opening up her most secret of places so brazenly.
