His tongue is—och, aye! Who knew the human tongue could be so versatile. It can speak many languages and is merely a floppy sort of organ which occasionally protrudes from the mouth. So why can it also produce such sensations?
Her fingers stretched through his hair at the back of his head, tugging, pulling him closer.
And his jaw! A jaw shouldnae be arousing. But when his stubble scrapes against my skin, I can feel it in my core. Och, now he’s kissing the corner of my lips, and my jaw, and—
She shuddered and moaned, as his lips trailed hot kisses along her skin.
“Aye, lass,” he rasped against her skin. “Ye want this, do ye no’?”
I want ye. “Aye!” she gasped, rocking her hips forward. “Please.”
One of his hands had snaked around and was cupping her rear end, settling her pelvis against his. Beneath his kilt, she could feel the long, hard length of him, and if she hadn’t spent years studying the Gray Lady’s teachings, such a sensation might’ve frightened her.
But she had, and thus the knowledge he was as desperate for her as she was for him, made her mouth water with need.
“Wynda,” he whispered against her skin, and she realized his lips were trailing down her jaw to her throat. She tipped her head to one side to allow him better access, wishing she’d worn her night-rail, instead of this gown—
His hand cupped her breast.
Cupped her breast through her gown, and who would’ve guessed such a simple motion could cause such a response? It was just a bag of fatty tissue hanging from the front of her torso, and the thought that it could be erogenous—
Shut up! St. Tiffani’s kneecaps, just shut up. Shut up and enjoy this, for God’s sake!
Miraculously, that part of her mind which was always observing, wondering…did.
And she allowed herself to sink back down into the bliss of his touch.
His mouth was still on her skin, and his kisses felt almost…coaxing. As if he knew what she needed and was urging her closer.
“Aye,” she sighed, dropping her head back, thrusting herself closer to him.
It should not have been possible for him to unlace her gown. Mayhap he didn’t. Mayhap he just used the looseness of the bodice to—
Ye’re doing it again.
However it happened, suddenly there was more than just his hand caressing her breast. The cool night air, and then his breath, tickled her skin, and she realized, somehow, he’d managed to bare her breast to his touch.
And then his mouth found her nipple, and she decided that aye, tongues really were remarkable little organs, were they not? The noise which emerged from her lips was half-keen, half-groan, and completely full of need.
His lips moved. “Aye, lass, like that. ‘Tis the pleasure ye were looking for, aye?”
“More!” It wasn’t until she heard the words that she realized she’d said them out loud. “More, please, Pherson!”
He groaned, his lips finding her breast once more. His teeth scraped against her nipple, and she simultaneously bucked her hips against him, and lost all feeling below her knees.
Really, it was a miracle she didn’t pull them both down to the floor.
Only his strength, his arm on her bottom, kept her upright.
He hummed against her skin, and his other hand…his other hand…
St. Tiffani, aye!
His other hand found the junction of her thighs and cupped her mound. Through the silk of her gown and chemise, she could feel his fingertips pressing, seeking. The base of his palm rested just above the pearl of her pleasure, where she needed the pressure, and that part of her mind which was always watching wondered at the miracle of him knowing exactly where to touch, where to press.
‘Twas as if he’d always known her. Always understood her.
“Pherson,” she whimpered, her hips already rocking against his hand. His other hand cupped her from behind, supporting her, urging her gently. Really, there was only one option at this point.