Page 20 of To My Scot, With Love
Still cradling her head, he slowly lowered her to the blankets they sat upon. He rested on his hip next to her, his hand leaving her head to find her thigh, down to her calf. His blue eyes bore straight to her soul as, inch by inch, he pulled up her skirts.
“How far do ye want this to go, Lydia? Whatever it is ye want is what I’ll give.”
“Everything,” she said again, his thickening brogue rolling over her like waves of warmth from a blazing hearth. “I want everything with you.”
His lips pressed down against hers again, wider, wetter, hotter. “Then ‘tis what I’ll give ye, lass. But if that ever changes, all ye have to say is nae, and I’ll stop. Understood?”
She nodded, lifting herself to kiss him again. And then his tongue flicked out and trailed over her bottom lip. Lydia gasped into his mouth, back arching off the floor. Because that small caress? Heavens, she felt it between her thighs.
He did it again, skimming over the seam of her lips, dipping inside, slow and shallow. She didn’t need to be told twice. She reciprocated, desperate for more of that feeling. Feeling alive.
She met the next pass of his tongue with her own and a low rumble came from deep within him, shaking his chest where it rested against hers. She matched him stroke for stroke, pushing harder than he did, more demanding, showing him without words what she wanted, what she was ready for.
His hand was on her bare thigh now, and as she drove their kiss harder, faster, wilder, his fingers dug into her skin, like if he didn’t latch onto her, he’d lose control. But she very much wanted him to lose control. If a simple kiss was this exhilarating? What would his hands be like? At the heart of her.
Malcolm took that moment to pull away and trail kisses down her jaw until he reached her neck. And did the most delicious things with his lips and tongue beneath the hollow of her ear. She shivered, legs twitching, fingers trembling. He tugged gently on the shell of her ear with his teeth, and she felt an answering pull between her legs. How? How was that possible? It made her want things. Scandalous things. Forbidden things. Like his mouth where all these feelings he was provoking pooled.
She squirmed next to him, hot and needy. Strong, sure fingers skimmed over the top of her thigh and traced the groove where her leg met her hip. His lips left her, his harsh breaths bursting against the sensitive skin of her neck.
“I’ve dreamed for so long of being blessed with the chance to touch ye in this way,” he said with broken breaths. His fingers skimmed over the curls between her legs, teasing, just the light trace of his fingertips. “To be the one to bring ye pleasure.”
Lydia widened her legs, gently nudging up into his hand. She wanted him to show it to her. What it was to reach that blissful peak. With someone else. By someone else. By him.
Malcolm.
She sifted her hand through his dark locks, gently pulling him until his gaze locked on hers. “Do you want to know a secret?”
He nodded, his nose bumping into her with how close they were together.
“I’ve dreamed of the same. With you. Of what it would be like if it wasn’t my fingers, but yours.”
His gaze never left hers, and his fingers slowly trailed between her legs, coasting up and down. Leisurely. But the feelings that it inspired inside of her were anything but.
“Like this, mo chride?”
She leaned up into him, so their lips brushed as she nodded. He nipped at her mouth, his fingers dipping to part her, and she sucked in a sharp breath. Her core was on fire, her skin nothing but a throbbing ache, desperation sizzling beneath the surface.
His fingers slid over her, and a tortured groan fled his lips. And she devoured it, her mouth, her hips, her hands, every part of her greedy for every part of him. Her hands pulled at his shirt, and he rose to his knees and hastily shucked it over his head. Then her hands landed on searing hot skin, blessedly bare burning skin. The muscles of his abdomen quivered beneath her palms, and blue eyes blown black stared down at her. Hungry.
He towered over her, his face shadowed from where his large form blocked out the candlelight behind him. And for once, he didn’t look safe. He looked dangerous. In the best way.
“What comes next?” she asked, her voice barely audible.
He lowered over her, caging her in between his forearms. He dragged wet lips across the bottom of her jaw, teeth grazing, then trailed down her throat to where her neck curved into her shoulder.
“I’m going to make ye come, lass,” he murmured into her skin. “And then I’m going to strip ye bare.” That sinfully wicked tongue trailed over the ridge of her collarbone. “And make ye do it again. And again.”
His hand found her core again, this time with surety, no teasing. He parted her, fingers skimming, swirling, and then sinking deep inside her. A broken cry fled her lips. One Malcolm was quick to steal with his own lips. His thumb glided up over her, a gentle barely there movement that wasn’t enough but was everything at the same time.
He groaned, deep and rough. “Och, leannan. You squeezed me so tight, just then.” He did another barely there pass with his thumbs, his fingers thrusting inside her in a torturous rhythm. Her knees slid up, thighs clenching on his hips; her blood thrummed, turning molten in her veins, swirling to center between her thighs.
She didn’t know what way was up, what way was down. Her body was frantic, incoherent. She could never have imagined it’d be like this. It was nothing like when she was by herself. A simple relieving of an ache was what she’d experienced. A short moment of pleasure, and then it was over. But this? She wanted to crawl out of her skin with how badly she wanted him,neededhim. Crawl into him.
She met him thrust for thrust, and each thrust had him moaning into her neck, nipping at her skin, sucking on her flesh. Like he wanted to consume her the same way she did him.
“That’s a good lass. So eager for me. Wild. Ye’re going to unman me.”
Lydia didn’t know what that meant. But his husky praise, his thickening brogue, it did something to her. Something she couldn’t fully grasp, couldn’t put her finger on. All she knew was she needed. Needed harder. Deeper. Closer.
