Page 56 of Sutherland's Secret
He lightly pushed on her shoulder until she was lying in front of him. She felt extremely vulnerable like this, naked, while he hovered over her. And extremely excited.
He took his time looking her over, starting at her legs, his gaze stopping for long moments at the V between her legs. Her body flushed under his scrutiny.
His nostrils flared again. His blue eyes darkened with passion. She wanted to squirm but forced herself to remain still. Lightly he ran his hands across her curls. Her hips came up and she gasped. He pulled his hand away, a smile playing on his lips as his gaze moved over her belly, up her torso, and stopped at her breasts. They tingled as if he’d touched them with his hands and not just his eyes. She could feel her nipples harden, straining toward him, begging for his touch. The word “please” hovered on her lips; she bit it back, determined not to beg. But oh, how she wanted, needed, him to touch her. She almost whimpered with the need but managed to swallow it at the last moment.
Finally his gaze moved on to her lips. His tongue came out to lick his lips as if he were tasting her on them. Instinctively she did the same to her own. Her body felt as if it were on fire. Every part of her tingled in awareness and demand. She was breathing deep in an effort to control herself, so she wouldn’t touch him or command him to touch her. The fact that he hadn’t touched her only increased her desire to a fevered pitch. She had to consciously hold her body still to keep from squirming. To keep from rubbing her legs together for some much-needed relief.
His penis stood up, bright red and so full and heavy. She centered her gaze there, but that did nothing to alleviate her hunger. She wanted to touch it, caress it, as she had done before. She wanted to feel it pulsing in her hand, so near to bursting that he was groaning.
She shifted, too excited to remain still. Her thighs rubbed together, the insides so wet with her need that they slid against each other. He muttered something in Gaelic, but she wasn’t versed enough in the language to know what he’d said.
“Touch me,” she said, giving in to her needs and throwing out her vow not to beg.
His lips twitched. He rubbed her nipples with his thumbs. Her back came off the floor, and she cried out as currents shot through her to center on the secret part of her lower belly where her need was the greatest.
He sat over her and continued to lightly rub her nipples. It was torturous, for his touch was too light, not enough. She wanted more. “Please, oh, please.”
He leaned forward until their lips were almost touching. She reared up to kiss him, but he pulled back, denying her even that. “Please what,luaidh mo chéile.”
Words escaped her. All she could think of, concentrate on, was the maddening brush of his thumbs across her nipples. Need built inside her. She moved her legs to relieve the pressure between them. Her head whipped to the side and she whimpered.
“Do ye want me to stop?” he whispered in her ear.
A shudder ran through her body.
“Do ye,mo ghràdh?”
“No,” she breathed.
With a wicked grin, he sat up, his thumbs still working her engorged nipples. They were standing up straight, so sensitive to his touch. She cried out again as a powerful feeling arrowed through her.
And then he stopped, and the cessation of sensation was worse than almost anything. She whimpered again, this time in despair.
His fingers skimmed her stomach, making her muscles clench. And then they were at the juncture of her thighs, running through the curls. She opened her legs wider and he drew in a deep breath.
His finger slipped in and she cried out, thrusting her hips upward, eager to feel him inside her. With his first two fingers buried deep inside her, he rubbed the nub with his thumb.
Eleanor screamed as she thrust her hips up. He withdrew his fingers, then pushed back in, stroking her all the while. The feeling was like nothing she’d experienced before. She was coming undone, lost in a world of sensation, her entire being centered on his fingers and what they were doing to her. She was crying, begging, uttering incoherent words as her hips pumped up and down. She was racing toward her climax, unable to stop it.
“Look at me,mo ghràdh.”
She opened her eyes just enough to look up at him. He was watching her, and the thought was so exciting that she cried out. Her body was not her own, and all she could do was ride it and enjoy it.
She pumped her hips harder while his fingers slid in and out and his thumb rubbed her. The wave was almost upon her, and she was eagerly reaching for it when he pressed down with his thumb and pushed his fingers up.
She screamed and arched her back as her entire body clenched down on his fingers and the feeling of coming undone raced through her. It went on and on, stealing her breath and her mind. Eventually it slowed to little pulses that gently milked his fingers.
Her body was so loose that she felt as if she had no bones left. She could only lie there, incapable of movement, her breathing hard and her heart continuing to thunder.
Brice leaned forward, his own breathing uneven. “We’re no’ finished yet,mo ghràdh.”
She whimpered, convinced her body could endure no more. Surely she would break into a thousand pieces if he did that to her again. But his fingers were still there, gently sliding in and out, and his thumb was still rubbing that nub. It was incredibly sensitive, tingling at his touch. To her shock, her body began responding again.
“I can’t,” she whimpered.
“Ah, but ye can.”
The need was building again, this time far too quickly. She hadn’t even caught her breath from the last time. Her fingers curled into the kilt beneath her. She cursed. Speaking words she’d never dared to speak out loud.
