Page 29 of Dark Side of the Laird
I shuddered, and even though I’d just come, I felt my body begin to stir again, readying itself for more pleasure.
He kissed me on my back, his tongue drawing circles over one shoulder blade and then another.
“Do ye want to come again?” he asked.
I nodded, then realized he probably couldn’t see me in the dark. “Yes.”
“Make yourself come again.” He tapped lightly over my ribs until he reached the side of my breast and then he cupped it, pinching my nipple. “I want to feel you come on my tongue.”
He dropped behind me, pressed his face to my backside, his tongue thrusting inside my cunt, his hands gripping hard to my ass.
I was beyond reason. Beyond everything except immense pleasure. I stroked myself harder, my fingers making circles around and around my clit, up and down, sliding back to feel his tongue inside me, then back to my clit, and then he slicked his tongue upward, rimming around the star between my ass cheeks and I jerked forward, the sensation all together euphoric and so wickedly, forbidden. Oh, I was a naughty girl. And I liked it. Liked it too much, and suddenly as he was licking my ass, I was fingering myself frantically, pushing in and out and then sliding up to rub my clit. Sensing my desperate need, Logan replaced my fingers with his own, plunging them deep as he continued to stroke his tongue over that forbidden part of me, leaving me to rub my clit in glorious panicked swirls.
This time when I came, a scream tore from my throat and I convulsed violently, legs buckling. Logan caught me, holding me where he wanted me, and then he was thrusting inside me. Not waiting for me to recover, but his cock tormenting me all the more. I was on fire, like lava, melting and completely destroyed.
He fucked me hard, fast and I could barely hold against the wall as he rode me, and he, too, was crying out, plunging deeper as he orgasmed.
Neither of us moved, both so consumed by the power of our sex. By the sheer intensity of it.
And then he spoke, his voice hoarse. “I’m going to miss ye.”
I shivered, feeling a deep-seated fear at his words. Come the morning, he would be gone.
9
Emma
Islept like the dead.
I woke, startled by sounds coming from outside, forgetting momentarily where I was—and what era. I was disoriented, light-headed. I glanced to the right, finding Logan’s side of the bed empty. Where had he gone? Judging from the small amount of light coming from the window, it couldn’t be much past dawn.
I managed to climb from bed, feet hitting the icy ground. I shivered, rubbing my arms to keep warm and stumbled toward the window. I stubbed my toe on a chair and let out a string of curses in Gaelic that I’d heard Logan mutter when he’d done the same thing. We really ought to move the damn thing, or else our toes would be mangled by the end of year.
That brought a smile to my face and the memories of the past months full force to mind. I’d never been happier.
And then, just like that, my smile faded, replaced by a sour feeling in my belly, and a dryness to my tongue. Logan was leaving today. For as long as three weeks.
An eternity.
I groaned and peeled back the fur covering the window, feeling the draft through the wooden slats. I opened the wooden shutter, shivering at the chill and gazed down at the courtyard.
Men ran to and fro, piling bags on horses, and women stuffed the bags full of supplies. Warriors stood in the center, armed to the teeth and awaiting their laird.
Would he leave without saying goodbye? A cursory glance around the courtyard did not show him to be present. I scurried back to the bed and pressed my hand to the rumpled sheets where he’d lain. Cold.
He’d been gone awhile. Knowing Logan, he probably barely slept.
With the castle in this much of an uproar, he was bound to be leaving within the hour. The very thought sent a shiver of dread through me. My already frozen limbs, fingers and toes dropped another ten degrees, as if my blood refused to flow when we were parted. I hurried to my wardrobe, pulling out a gown, my cloak and boots, and then struggled into them.
Going on six months wasn’t nearly enough time to become acquainted with the clothing. I feared I might always need a little help in the dressing department. Knowing what was coming, if I ever had to go to court where the king presided, I’d be sewn into my clothes. Stiff, thick fabrics encrusted with jewels. I crinkled my nose, feeling uncomfortable already. Being at the castle, working side by side with the people, cuddling up with Logan, those things came easy. But court? A royal court with all those pompous people? I shook my head. That, I was not ready for.
I bent over, tugging the last boot over my heel when the door between our rooms slid open and Logan stepped through. I looked up at him, forgetting all about the laces on my boot and ran toward him. He held out his arms, catching me against his solid form. His clothes were cold, but the warmth of his body seeped through. He smelled crisp and cool like the outdoors, mixed with his own spicy scent.
“I wish you didn’t have to go,” I said.
“I know it, love. If only we could turn back the clock. I’d have insisted on the king taking Isabella with him. Or even sent a missive telling him not to come.”
I shook my head and looked up at him, studying every line and plane on his rugged and devilishly handsome face. “I’m not sure that would have done any good. The king had it in his mind to come here, and who he’d bring. What could you have done? You wouldn’t have run from him, or abandoned your people.”
