Page 42 of When the Laird Claims
Her legs locked around his waist as he kissed her, bringing the heat of her entrance closer to the hardened length of his manhood. Whether she knew what a torture that was or not, he did not know, but it would take all of his willpower to resist sinking inside those silken depths and claiming her entirely. As he had said at the inn, he was not that sort of man; he would not take her when she would have to return to her life in England.
But pleasure—pleasure, he could do.
Scooping his arms beneath her, he suddenly twisted, rolling them both over untilhewas the one with his back on the grass and she was sitting atop him, straddling his thighs. A gasp caught in her throat as she evidently felt the solidity of his manhood, but his kilt was still between them, preventing them from going too far.
Nevertheless, Arran felt he needed a little more surety, or he might just lose control and throw caution to the wind.
He sat up and kissed her, a rumble of pleasure sounding in the back of his throat as she settled there in his lap. His brow furrowed at the sweet and torturous ecstasy of her smallmovements; she could not help it that her body swayed with the rhythm of their kiss and, in turn, swayed those hips back and forth across his length. At least, he thought she could not help it; she did not seem like someone who would torment him deliberately.
As their kiss deepened, he grabbed at the layers of fabric that formed her new dress and pulled up with an urgency that he could not temper. She raised her arms for him, clearly emboldened, and as he tossed her clothes to the ground, she reached for him in kind.
They undressed one another… up to the point where Arran had to gently stay Victoria’s hand. She had gone to unfasten the belt of his kilt, but as that was the only thing, aside from his willpower, that was stopping him from making love to her, it was better for them both if his kilt stayed on.
“Nay, lass,” he said. “It’smereward, nae yers.”
She pouted a little. “But–”
He slid his hand between her thighs to silence her argument, cupping her with his palm while his fingertips strummed her swollen bud. She was warm and wet and would have been so ready if they were to take it further. Her gasps and moans were an enchantment upon his manhood, driving him to a point where he would not be able to hold back.
Nay, I have to do somethin’ before I make a mistake.
In one smooth move, he scooped his arms underneath her thighs and hoisted her up. She yelped loudly, still not quite trusting that he would not drop her, as he lifted her legs onto his shoulders.
“What are you–” a sharp gasp interrupted her words, a cry drifting out into the evening air as he tasted her once more.
She was even sweeter than the last time, as his hands grasped her buttocks and brought her swollen bud even closer to the curl of his tongue, in complete control of her bliss.
But as she began to writhe a little to the music of her impassioned moans, he realized that she might be more comfortable if she had more balance. Freer to sway and move her body at her leisure, certainly. And his neck and shoulders would not mind the reprieve, though hecouldhave held her there through at least two climaxes if he had wanted to.
Slowly, with the muscles of his abdomen burning slightly, he leaned back down to the ground. There was a moment when she held onto his head in fear, but it soon passed as she realized what he was doing.
She sat up and attempted to shuffle backward, but his hands on her backside refused to allow it.
“Nay, lass,” he said. “Daenae move. I have ye exactly where I want ye.”
She blinked in something like surprise. “But… how will you breathe?”
“I daenae plan to,” he replied, stealing a sly lick of her. “I mean to drown in ye.”
Her body shivered at the touch of his tongue, and as he settled in for more, he felt her relax. As she did, her body lowered to precisely where he wanted her to be, where he could enjoy her at his absolute pleasure… without any risk of them going too far.
“Oh, Arran…” She moaned, her hips making those small back-and-forth motions, almost guiding his tongue to the intensity she wanted to feel.
He smiled at the sound of his name on her lips, spoken with such intimate feeling in her voice. It was a tone he could have easily gotten used to and would probably never lose its novelty.
Enjoying his prize immensely, he let his tongue glide through the sodden folds of her and teased it around that secret bud, before curling his tongue and sucking gently. He knew it would make her buck, satisfaction coursing through him when it did.
Tenderly, he traced his fingertips over the swell of her buttock and under that perfect crease where it met the top of her thigh. From there, he followed the intoxicating heat of her entrance until his fingertips came to rest there, giving her a moment to reject what he wished to explore next.
“Yes, Arran… oh, yes… yes,” she moaned, the strokes of his tongue visibly making her soar toward her conclusion. He could see it in the furrow of her brow and the way she bit her lip, and it was there in her increasingly ragged breaths.
The moment he eased his finger inside her, his manhood throbbed in protest at being denied that pleasure.
“Oh!” Victoria cried out, her back arching to give him the most exquisite view of her perfect figure: a taut stomach with a slight curve of softer flesh, ripe breasts so perfect that he reached up his other hand to massage them, leading up to the slender curve of her neck, thrown back in ecstasy.
It was enough to distract him from the protest of his manhood, as he concentrated entirely on the sight and sounds of her. Slowly, he eased another finger inside her, curving both and beginning a light, stroking motion to move his fingers in and out while brushing the sensitive nerves within.
She bucked against his mouth, his tongue running over her bundle of nerves with firmer, faster strokes, all the while listening to the breathiness of her gasps. They were a language all their own, and he wanted to understand every word, so he would know what aroused her more than anything else.
