Page 22 of To My Scot, With Love
“Oh.” She blinked at him with saucer-round blue eyes. “You’re…big everywhere.”
He chuckled. “Aye, lass. Dinnae fash. I’ll go as slow as you need.” He brushed his lips against hers and rolled his cock into her. She was wet, and the oil on the sheath aided his way, but he could feel her intermittently tense. Like he was more intruder than welcomed presence. He’d fix that.
Malcolm gripped her thigh, lifting her leg higher over his hip, opening her more for him. Then he let his mouth wander down her neck, over her collarbone, over the silky soft skin of her chest. Until he reached those pretty pink nipples. The ones he’d been dying to taste.
He dragged his lips over the pebbled peak, and her gasp surrounded them. She was sensitive here. He liked that. Very much. He coasted his tongue over her, slow, sinful, savoring her. And then he took her in his mouth and got the reaction he was hoping for. The one that sent pleasure shooting down the base of his spine.
Her back arched, her hands flying to his head, and her hips rocked into him, sending him deeper. Deeper into bliss. He groaned against her delicious skin, and her hips canted into him harder, urgent.
Malcolm skimmed his mouth over her skin to her other breast, leisurely thrusting, sinking deeper each time. “Ye’re taking me so well, love,” he crooned. “Like ye’re body’s desperate for me. Meant to fit with mine.”
He resumed his attention on her other breast, learning what made her sigh with pleasure, what made her squirm with need. He flicked her nipple with his tongue, and aye, there was the frantic demand he was searching for. He wanted her unraveling, out of her mind.
He was nearly fully seated now, and her body wasn’t resisting in the slightest. He pulled almost all the way out and sank back inside. Hips met flush with hips, and a strangled groan rumbled in his throat.
“Och, Lydia.” His gaze found hers, eyelids heavy, pupils taking over those sea-blue irises he loved. “Ye’re heaven. Ye must be,” he said hoarsely. “So tight. The way ye’re clenching on me. ‘Tis the sweetest caress I’ve ever known.”
She pushed her hips up into him, forcing him deeper, and her mouth dropped open, eyes falling all the way shut as a broken moan fled her lips. She nodded, eyes still squeezed tight.
“Heaven,” she said in breathless agreement. “I had no idea it could be like this.”
And that was a bloody shame. Because this woman deserved nothing less than bliss. Every day. Every minute. Every breath. And he’d give her that. For every moment she’d allow.
“Can you handle more of me, lass? Can you handle harder? I dinnae want to hurt you.”
Malcolm thrust into her again, harder this time, skin slapping against skin, and the breath fled her in a whoosh. Crimson streaked over her cheekbones, and her blue irises burned with midnight desire.
“Yes, Mal,” she whispered. “I want—need—everything you can give me.”
And that was all the permission he required. He drove home, and she met his every thrust, fingernails scraping over the flesh of his back, pulling him into her. Like she couldn’t get close enough. And they couldn’t. It wouldn’t ever be close enough. Not with the way he craved her. Not unless they were one.
Her soft moans grew to broken cries and sharp gasps, his grunts muffled in her neck. The room filled with the sound of sex, of pleasure. Their movements turned unsteady, unpredictable, neither in control any longer.
Then her hips locked so hard around his own, she forced him still. And fook him, she rode him, even from below. Her body writhing and rolling against him, using him to bring her to the edge of bliss. And it was the most erotic and beautiful sight to behold. Her head thrown back, eyes slammed shut.
Sweet heady pleasure settled deep at the base of his cock. Every rock of her hips had the head of his cock rubbing inside her in a way that had his vision dotting over, searing ecstasy filling him. And then she tipped over the edge in a scream, and he swallowed it, crushing his mouth to hers. He pounded into her, holding nothing back as he chased that same feeling until bliss hit him harder than it ever had before, and he joined her. Tumbling over the edge.
Into the euphoria that was making love to Lydia.
15
Chapter Fifteen
A Poem for Thee, Mo Chridhe,
The quiet o’ my rooms is quieter now,
Now they’ve kent the song o’ your laughter and sighs.
The light o’ my rooms is dimmer now,
Now they’ve seen the light o’ your bonnie eyes.
The warmth o’ my bed is colder now,
Now it’s known the heat o’ your skin’s sweet caress.
But my heart. Aye, my heart is fuller now,
