Page 55 of Sutherland's Secret
He leaned over and cupped her face with his good hand to press his lips against hers. His lips were warm from facing the fire. Warm and soft and oh, so lovely and familiar. She didn’t realize until now how much she had ached for his lips on hers. And his body on hers, and in her.
“Ach, Ella.”
“You only call me that when we make love,” she said between kisses.
“Do I? That’s how I think of ye when we make love.”
“I can live with that.”
He chuckled and kissed her again, leaning so far over that she lay back. His body was half on her, his hand still cupping her cheek as he deepened his kiss.
She ran her hands along his back, feeling the tight smooth muscles move. She pulled at his kilt, grabbing handfuls of it and tugging until it was hitched up around his waist, and then she ran her hands along his tight, round, naked buttocks. “So you really don’t wear anything under there,” she said.
“And why would we?” He breathed in a harsh breath when she kneaded his butt cheeks. “Lord above, lady. Ye’ll be killing me, ye will.”
She smiled into his mouth and moved her hand around to touch the hard length of his erection.
His hips flexed. “Damnation,” he breathed. He rose up on his good arm and looked down on her. “I’m thinking ye have too many clothes on.”
She raised a brow. “Then do something about it.”
He laughed. Soon he was pulling her shirt out of her breeches, tugging and pulling and cursing. “Damn blasted, bloody thing.” He sat up and whipped the sling off, releasing his injured arm.
“You’ll hurt yourself,” she said.
“I do no’ care right now.”
He pulled her breeches off, and she lifted her hips to aid him as she unbuttoned the shirt. He looked down at her, his gaze roaming over her body as his shaking arms supported him. “Ye are so beautiful,” he whispered.
She found that her maidenly embarrassment at being naked in front of a man had deserted her, and she was glad of that. She liked the appreciation in his eyes when he looked at her. She felt womanly and beautiful. “Let me look at you,” she said.
He rose up on his knees and held his arms out. “I’m yers to do with as ye please.” His voice was husky with desire that thrilled through her.
She rose up on her knees and unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it and the kilt off his bandaged shoulder. He was even more beautiful with the bandage, because it meant he was real and not a figment of her imagination. His muscles were clearly defined, his stomach muscles resembling a ladder that led down to his manhood, which was tenting his kilt.
“How do you get this blasted thing off?” she said, pushing at the kilt.
He laughed. “I have ye so worked up that ye’re cursing?”
“Aye,” she said, mimicking his brogue.
He unwound the kilt, and Eleanor was surprised to see that it was nothing but a big piece of fabric. In all his naked glory, he spread it on the floor and looked at her. “It has many uses,” he said with a slight smile.
“I can see that.” But she wasn’t looking at his kilt. She was looking at the engorged penis, standing straight up. It was huge and red and swollen, and her body tingled when she looked at it. She stroked it, exploring its length and breadth, the moist head and the slit in the top of it.
Brice took in a breath, his head falling back and his eyes closing. He rose up on his knees and went back down on his heels with each of her light strokes. His member jumped and bobbed, and the twin sacs below it tightened. She touched those with her other hand, cupping them as she stroked him. He groaned, his hands clenching at his sides.
She was wet and heavy between her legs, aching for his touch, but when he reached for her, she brushed his hand away. His arm fell to his side. He gasped and moaned and moved his hips as she stroked him softly.
His hand came up to cover hers, showing her how to move, what to do. Together they stroked him, and it was the most fascinating, scintillating thing she’d ever been part of. Their hands were moving faster now, his hips rising and falling with each thrust, his groans nothing but a long low sound.
Suddenly he stopped, his fingers closing over hers in a brutal hold. “Stop,” he ground out between clenched teeth.
She froze, her gaze flying to his in bewilderment. And then she felt it, the throb of his penis. The slit in the top opened up, then closed with each throb, and the sacs she was cupping shrank and expanded as well. Brice held his breath, and when the throbbing stopped, he released it in a long whoosh.
“That was too close. We do no’ want to finish before we even start.” His eyes narrowed as he looked down on her. He released her hand and pried her fingers from him before dropping to his hands and his knees to grin at her wickedly. “Yer turn now, lass.”
Chapter 22
