Sticks and Stone

Gliding his fingertips in soft circles over her hip, he coaxed, “If you’re so convinced you’ve done something wrong, I know how you could apologize.”

“But I have—”

“No. We have a saying, actions speak louder than words.”

Slowly, she nodded. “Ní bheathaíonn na briathra na braíthre. Words do not feed the friars.”

He pulled her back beneath the rumpled covers, until she was stretched out beside him. His fingers danced over her ribcage to stroke and fondle her breast. Dermot scraped a light circle around her aureole with his fingernail, smiling at her sudden intake of breath. Palming her soft mound of flesh, he rotated his hand slowly, then faster, then slowly again.

Her nipple hardened against his palm. Lifting his hand, he flicked the tight bud with his fingertip.

She moaned, and he smelled the sudden musky scent of her desire. This was going to be even easier than he thought.

Slowly, carefully, he lifted himself up and moved over her, kneeling between her legs. All the while, his fingers continued to flick and stroke her breast.

Leaning down, he replaced his hand with his mouth. She sighed as he swallowed half her breast, his tongue alternately swirling around it and rasping across the sensitive tip.

Her fingers crept up, as if moving without her conscious volition, and buried themselves in his hair, pressing his head tight to her breast. She wanted him to suckle her, but that wasn’t what he had in mind.

No longer needing his hand to play with her breast, Dermot reached down between her legs to find a new playground. His fingers slipped easily through the wet folds, already spread in welcome, and found the swollen bud of her desire.

His tongue swirled around her nipple, as his thumb circled her bud. Then he flicked his tongue across her nipple, at the same time flicking her heated bud.

She gasped, her hips rising, and warm liquid flowed across his fingers. His hardened cock jumped, eager to enter her willing warmth.

A low growl of frustration escaped him. He’d been trying to ignore his cock, focusing on the woman beneath him and her reactions. Now was not the time to search for his own satisfaction. He was trying to show her something.

Again, he flicked both nipple and bud. Again, she gasped and opened more for him. He wasn’t going to be able to resist her body’s mute entreaty much longer.

His cock hummed like a high tension wire, heavy and hot and aching to slide into her wet depths. And he would, he promised himself. Later. First, he had a lesson to teach her.

Lifting his head, he stroked her breast with his lips, until only her pebbled nipple remained in his mouth. She moaned, and whispered an incomprehensible Gaelic entreaty. Her hips lifted and fell, seeking fulfillment, trying to drive her swollen flesh against his fingers. But his hand moved with her, riding her, so that her only relief was the teasing flick of his fingers timed with the flick of his tongue. That only enflamed her more.

Her head whipped restlessly from side to side, and her fingers convulsed in his hair. She began to whimper softly, her cries growing steadily in volume. His fingers slipped, unable to keep his grip on the pulsing bud in the flood of eager liquid flowing from her.

She lifted her hips, seeking to follow up on her brief advantage. It was the perfect moment.

Finding the swollen bud again, Dermot pinched it lightly, just as his teeth closed around her nipple in a love bite.

She screamed, lifting her hips nearly a foot off of the bed, and the hot flood of her satisfaction bathed his hand. She held the pose, her body bent into a quivering arch, for ten long seconds. Then she collapsed. Tremors continued to ripple through her limp body.

She blinked slowly, gradually opening her eyes and focusing on his face. He tried not to look smug, but suspected his masculine pride still showed upon his face.

“What did you do to me?” she whispered.

“Did you like it?”

“Aye. It’s pudding I am. Hot, happy pudding.”

Dermot schooled his features to show concern. “But I bit you. And pinched you.”

“Did you now?”

She was still too far gone in the aftereffects of her orgasm to understand what he was trying to show her. He’d have to speak more directly.

“I broke your law. I harmed you.”

“Oh and truth, there’s no harm done. Quite the opposite.”