He hummed against her skin, bent over her, one hand lifting what she’d always considered her too-large breast, which seemed just right in his hand. And as she desperately rocked against him, she stared down at her pale, usually hidden skin disappearing into his mouth.
Then his teeth grazed her nipple, and she gasped, the sensation pushing her over the edge.
He seemed to sense her impending crisis, because he thrust himself up on his toes, in an incredible display of strength for someone with only one working leg. The sensation of his hardness sliding along her cleft, nestling against the center of her pleasure, caused it all to break apart.
With a keening whimper, evoking St. Jennifer for help, she rocked against him, allowing the waves of pleasure to burst over her as he teased and suckled and kissed.
She wasn’t certain how long it took for her to come back to her senses, but when she did, she realized she was still rocking against him. Brodie himself was now standing stock-still, his breathing harsh, as his free hand cupped her bare skin.
She could feel his calluses now, whereas she’d been in too much of a daze to notice them before. Their roughness against her delicate breast made her swallow down a sense of…
Well, she wasn’t certain what she was feeling. It wasn’t shame, not the way she was used to, but…she’d used him. She’d taken advantage of his nearness and hardness and just used him.
And he’d let her.
Nay, he’d encouraged her.
He’s still holding yer breast.
Aye, so he was. Apparently, he hadn’t minded her actions too much.
It was as if he’d been waiting for some sign from her, and had found it. Abruptly, he blew out a breath strong enough to move the curls which had escaped her braid. Then, with surprisingly efficient movements, he tucked her breast back inside her bodice, and reached around to push her head against his chest.
With her cheek cradled against him, she could hear his heart pounding in her ear, feel his breath against her temple, and realized…
Are we cuddling? We’re cuddling, are we no’?
The man had just lifted her onto a counter and allowed her to ride him to completion—where anyone could see!—without finding his own pleasure, and now, he was cuddling with her.
St. Jennifer, protect my heart!
She was in danger of having it melt away, thanks to this gruff, wounded warrior who could still manage to show such gentleness.
Ye’re still angry at him about the salty rabbit comment, remember?
Actually ‘twas difficult to remember to be irritated when her entire body felt so…languid.
“Can I ask ye a question?” His voice rumbled in her ear.
She shifted, but he didn’t let her up. Instead, he repositioned himself, cocking one hip against the counter between her legs as if to better support himself. That’s when she realized her ankles were still locked around him, and Fen felt herself blushing as she released him.
He didn’t release her though. “Do ye ken, when ye come, ye evoke St. Jennifer?”
He spoke of it so easily, as if he didn’t consider this—this this they’d just shared—unusual or naughty or concerning in any way. When ye come. Oh, St. Jennifer help her, she even liked his matter-of-fact attitude about things which should’ve shamed her.
“Aye,” she whispered against him, hoping he couldn’t see her blush. “I—I always have. She’s my patron.”
“St. Jennifer’s yer patron saint?” He sounded…dubious.
“Aye.” Pushing against him, she was able to straighten. “Why?”
When he shrugged, it set off interesting movements along his shoulders, and Fen tried not to notice.
“I thought I kenned all the saints,” he admitted, his brows drawn in thoughtfully, “but I’ve never heard of Jennifer.”
Suddenly, everything they’d shared in the last few minutes seemed to come crashing down atop her shoulders, and Fen let out a bark of laughter which surprised her as much as him. “Really? This is the conversation ye think we should be having now?”
He shrugged again. “I’ve been curious. ‘Tis no’ the first time ye’ve evoked her, and I’ve never even heard the name afore.”