Page 31 of Dark Side of the Laird
“Emma—”
“What is it you fear will happen while you’re gone? What has possessed you to give me this key? This duty?” I hated that my voice shook, that I was suddenly so weak in front of him.
“Emma, love.” He pulled me in roughly, kissed me on the forehead and then held me at arm’s length again. “Ye can do this. ’Tis not that I fear something will happen to me. I have every intention of returning to you, and as swiftly as I can. But this key”—he held it up in front of my eyes—“is the key to the castle. The key to everything. Ye know how much MacDonald wants to get his hands on it.”
“Precisely why you should have it.” I raised my hands a little. Exasperated. “I mean, you are much stronger than me. I’m going to be here alone with that hellish woman. She could take it from me.”
“Ye won’t let her.”
“How can you be sure? My room has been broken into before. What’s to say it’s not broken into again? Maybe she’ll decide to ransack it the moment you leave.”
“Ye will keep the key on ye. Just as I have kept it on me. Never leave the room without it. Let the key burn its place against ye, so that ye may never be without it.”
I shook my head again, fearing more the great responsibility of holding the key, rather than any harm that could come to me from holding it. “What if it falls out of my boot?”
Logan looked at me seriously, his brows drawn together in concentration. “Ye will strap it to your thigh.”
“My thigh?” This was the stuff of westerns when saloon dollies and gun-slinging women holstered pistols to their thighs amidst their garters. That wasn’t me.
“Aye, sit.”
But, maybe, I had to become that woman if I was going to survive here.
Logan led me over to the chair, nudging me to sit in it. He knelt before me and took my foot up onto his bent knee. With slow, measured movements he slid the skirt of my gown and chemise up over my thigh, revealing my flesh to his gaze. I was suddenly hot. Overcome with need, and his face was only a foot away from my sex, which was nearly drenched. I was certain he could sense my desire, smell it as he breathed deep.
He grinned at me, wicked intent in his eyes. “Wish that I did not have to leave. I’d fuck ye in this chair.”
My breath caught and I nodded. “I’d like that.”
Logan cleared his throat and stood, walking over to the wardrobe and rummaging through it and then disappearing through our joined doorway into his own chamber. He quickly returned with a leather strap and I was swiftly reminded of how he’d tied me to his bed and made love to me, and also of how much I wanted him to do that again. To feel the leather around my wrists and know I couldn’t touch him, that I had to surrender to him. I squirmed in the chair, parted my legs so that when he knelt before me again he could see the folds of my sex glistening.
One of the best medieval ideals—no underwear. Forget thongs and sheer, lacy panties. Here, I wore nothing and it was hotter than hell. When I could feel myself getting wet, the heat of it slick and sexy against my thighs, it made me all the hotter.
Logan licked his lips, staring now at the view I’d given him. “Ye’re a tease, lass.”
“I’m only showing you how much I want you.” I flicked my gaze toward his belt. “Want to show me how much you want me?”
He groaned.
I leaned forward, loving when he let me play the seductress. I reached my hand down and grabbed hold of his thick cock through the fabric of his plaid.
God, I wanted him.
“Just once before you leave,” I begged. “It won’t take long.” I patted the arm of the chair. “We can do it right here.”
Logan stood so abruptly I nearly upended the chair. He pulled me up and turned, sitting where I’d been. He flipped his kilt out of the way, revealing his length in all its vibrant glory. Long, hard, a vein traveling up the middle to meet at the tip of his engorged head. A drop of pre-cum glistened the tip. “Lift your gown.”
I lifted up the gown around my hips and stepped forward. He scooted to the edge of the chair and then grabbed hold of my hips, effortlessly lifting me until I straddled him. He held me aloft a minute, allowing me to grab hold of his thick shaft and position him at my opening, and then he yanked me down, thrusting his hips upward at the same time.
Both our heads fell back as we moaned, that initial joining, the thrust and sink, so hot and pleasurable that there is nothing one can do but surrender to it.
This would be no lengthy coupling, but quick and furious. He gripped tight to my ass, thrusting up, fast and hard as I rocked back and forth, my hands finding anchor against his shoulders. I sank closer, kissing his lips, nuzzling his neck, and he teased over the flesh of my nipples with his teeth, sucking on them and leaving wet spots on my gown from his tongue.
I cried out, my body tensing with each ensuing push and pull. I was so wound up. Emotions, fear, tension, all of it pushing us both closer to the brink.
Logan buried his face between my breasts, murmuring words filled with passion, emotion and something deeper—regret? I pushed it aside, unwilling to explore what that could mean. Instead, I whispered my own words of love, of sensuality. Telling him how much I liked his cock thrusting hard and deep inside me. How much I loved him, needed him.
When the fluttering of my orgasm began, I cried out, “I’m coming,” and he ground his hips upward harder, faster, until seconds later we were both crying out and quaking with mutual release.
