Never Love a Highlander (McCabe Trilogy 3)

“I think ’tis ready.”

When Caelen would have begun undressing himself, she put her hand on his arm to stop him. Then she began pulling his clothing down until he was nude before her. She took his hand and guided him toward the tub. He stepped over the side and groaned softly as he sank into the hot water.

She let him sit there a moment with his eyes closed before she collected the washing cloth and soap and knelt by the tub. He opened his eyes to look at her as she pressed the cloth to his chest and began to wash.

“I am unsure of what I’ve done to deserve such attention, but you’ll not hear a single complaint cross my lips.”

“You have been working tirelessly without rest for weeks now,” she said softly. “You’ve insisted on my resting, but not your own. You indulge me and pamper me and yet no one does the same for you.”

He laughed. “I’m a warrior, Rionna. No one pampers warriors.”

“This wife does,” she defended. “An evening where you are waited on hand and foot will do you good.”

She began washing his back in lazy, sensual strokes. His muscles rippled underneath her touch and his breath caught and expelled in a jerky rush.

“I think you may just be right about that. I rather like the idea of my wife serving me in the privacy of our chamber. It opens up a lot of colorful possibilities.”

She leaned over and silenced him with a kiss. She dipped her hand into the water and trailed her fingers down his belly to his cock. Gently she rubbed up and down over his hardness.

“I must be sure to clean everywhere,” she murmured.

“Oh aye, you mustn’t miss a single spot,” he murmured back as he nibbled at her lips.

She leaned back and then went to collect the heavy pitcher from the washbasin. After directing him to scoot forward in the tub, she began to wash his hair.

She loved running her fingers through the long strands. She soaped and rinsed and dug her fingers through the thick pelt, massaging and stroking as she sought to give him comfort.

“Your hands are magic, lass,” he murmured. “ ’Tis the truth I’ve never had so much pleasure from something so simple as a washing of the hair.”

“If you stand by the fire, I’ll dry you,” she said as she rocked back on her heels.

“You’ll not have to ask me twice if I want another opportunity for your hands on my body.”

He stood, and water ran down his back, over his firm bu**ocks, and down his legs. He stepped from the tub and then turned to face her, his back to the fire. Her gaze was riveted to his body. Were she ninety, she’d never grow tired of looking at this man. He fascinated her. He appealed to her feminine senses in a way a man had never before appealed to her.

“If you continue looking at me so, you’ll find yourself on your back with me between your thighs,” he said gruffly.

She grinned then and stepped forward to began wiping the moisture from his body. She rose up on tiptoe to gather the strands of his hair and squeeze excess water away. When his hair no longer dripped, she began to rub down the rest of his body.

’Twas the truth she had every intention of pampering her husband this night, but she was so enjoying the experience herself that she felt guilty over the pleasure it brought her.

With his chest and arms now dry, she dropped to her knees to rub his hips, thighs, and lower legs. For now she avoided his groin, wanting to draw out that particular form of torture.

Then she rose up on her knees so that her mouth was mere inches from his swollen cock. “Tell me husband, will you be too weak to partake of your evening meal if I pleasure you now?”

His eyes glittered at her mischievous teasing. He slid his fingers through her hair and pulled her roughly forward until the tip of his erection rested against her bottom lip.

“I’ll manage somehow.”

Knowing what the image of her on her knees while he stood over her would do to him, she slid her mouth over his hardness and took him deep.

“Ah, lass,” he moaned. “Your mouth is the sweetest pleasure I’ve ever known.”

His fingers curled into her hair and then he loosened his hold as if worried he’d hurt her with his urgency. Then he tightened his grip again when she swallowed against the head.

This time she’d not draw out his pleasure. She intended it to be quick and sharp, a precursor of what was to come.

She curled her hand around the base of his shaft and stroked down as she sucked down to the tip. Then she tightened her fingers and stroked back up as she swallowed him whole once more.

Over and over she took him hard and fast until he went up on tiptoe, straining to go deeper. He tried to pull away when ’twas obvious he was about to gain his release, but she resisted and took him to the back of her throat, holding him captive there until with a harsh shout he poured himself into her mouth.

She continued to slide her tongue and lips over his length until finally he framed her face in his hands and pulled gently from her grasp. He reached down to help her to her feet and pulled her close when she stumbled. After a moment she pulled away and offered him his trews.

“Come to the bed so that I may brush your hair,” she said as he reclothed himself. “Our food will be here soon and then you can eat.”

She perched on the edge of the bed, and he sat on the floor between her knees while she brushed the tangles from his hair. After awhile she put aside the brush and pulled her fingers through the strands, enjoying the feel against her skin.

He reached up and caught one of her hands and brought it around to his mouth. He kissed her palm and then turned it over to press a kiss to each of her knuckles.