The last thought was stolen from her when his tongue touched the tip of her bud. All the air in her lungs fled as her insides coiled. He circled her nipple once, twice, and she wanted to scream at the exquisite pleasure.
“Make me yours, Asher.”
He answered with a tormented groan followed by taking her breast in his mouth to suckle her. There was a pulling inside her and incessant pulsing between her legs. She wanted him. She wanted him in a way that was not proper, but she didn’t care. There was no one here to judge her or correct her. There was only the two of them and the passion between them.
As his suckling grew stronger, one of his hands moved downward to lift her nightgown up her thighs, and before she knew it, he had divested her of her unmentionables. She didn’t even blush, she was that wanton now. She loved it. With him, she would be able to be herself, and he would love her for it.
Hope sped her heart and her own desire. She tugged at his clothes, wanting to feel his bare flesh as he was feeling hers, and he chuckled approvingly. He broke contact with her breast to aid her in undressing them both. They were all frenzied hands and impatient sighs and grunts until the last remaining bit of their clothing fell to the floor and she saw his naked body for the first time. He was all hard planes and slabs of muscles, and he had several scars that she would ask him about later. He was a duke, but he had the body of a self-made man.
“Ye are so bonny, Guin,” he said, running his hands almost reverently over her chest and stomach to cup her hips. He stared into her eyes. “But that is yer shell. It’s yer insides, here—” he touched her temple “—and here—” he touched her heart “—that makes ye so special.”
It was the most perfect thing he could have said. She pressed her open lips to his, and gasped into his mouth when his hands swooped under her legs to lift her off her feet. In a breath, he had settled her on her bed on her back. He came over her on his knees, the insides of his thighs caging her at the hips, and he stared down at her before splaying his hands across her belly.
“The things I want to do to ye, Guin—”
“Do them,” she interrupted.
“Ye’re certain?” he growled.
She nodded and grinned. “We’ll be quiet.”
He leaned forward, his hands coming to either side of her shoulders, and he gave her such a wicked grin that her heart skipped several beats. “Do not ever tell a Scot that ye’ll be able to stay quiet when he beds ye,mo ghraidh. Ye have just thrown a challenge.”
“What?” she gasped, but his response was not with words.
He slipped his knees backward until he was between her thighs. He deftly parted them, and then he did the unspeakable. He lowered himself, looking up only long enough to offer a smug smile. “I’ll show ye how a Scot loves a woman.”
And good heavens, he did so with long tender strokes of his tongue to her core and to a spot she had not known she possessed. It was a revelation. It was magnificent, and it would surely be the death or discovery of them both if he did not cease tormenting her. He caressed and teased until her blood felt as if it would boil right out of her veins and her heart would explode through her rib cage.
“Asher,” she hissed, knotting her hands in his hair, her legs trembling so terribly she could not even attempt to close them to him to get him to rise up. “Asher, please, please. I am going—” She had to pause to pant with a wave of need. “I am going to scream.”
A few more flicks of his devilish tongue and he rose once more. But his fingers found her throbbing core and continued the torment. She thrashed her head and gripped the coverlet as one of his hands came under her bottom to lift her. He slid into her, filling her, stretching her, propelling her over some brink. There was a pinch of pain, and then he stilled. Leaning forward, he captured her mouth as he moved ever so slowly inside her.
Heat began to build with each press of his pelvis that hit that wonderful spot. Her body was sweaty, as was his, and she stared at him in awe, his muscles glistening in the moonlight, his face locked in concentration. The tension in her built and built, and she moved her hands to his bottom, feeling his muscles flex in perfect harmony when he thrust.
The coil inside her wound tighter, demanding release, and then everything within her clenched around him. She felt his muscles clench, as well, as warm waves swept through her. She moaned, but he captured the sound with his mouth, kissing her, taking her need in, takingherin, making her his. Both his hands came under her bottom, and he lifted her still higher. He drove fully into her, throbbing and filling her with his seed. She welcomed him as involuntary tremors went through her and a languidness unlike any she had ever known overcame her.
Still locked together, he wrapped his arms around her and rolled them over so she was on top of him. She pressed her cheek to his chest, and the thundering of his heart resounded in her ear. They lay there for a long moment, silent, their heavy breathing mingling in the room, and then he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I told ye that ye would not be able to stay quiet.”
She smiled at the boast and the pride in his voice. She looked up, and their eyes locked. “Next time,” she said, allowing a bit of arrogance to infuse her own tone, “I will be the one to make you groan.”
His lips curled back in a smile that promised many exquisite nights to come. “I look forward to that,mo ghraidh.”
“Nowwill you tell me what that means?” she asked with a yawn.
“Not quite yet, lass. When we are wed, aye?”
“But that will be months from now,” she protested.
“Nay,” he said, the word ringing with finality.
“Mama will have palpitations if you try to rush the wedding.”
“Then yer father should have smelling salts on hand for yer Mama. We will wed in a week.”
“A week!” she exclaimed, both pleased and worried by the prospect. “That’s not possible. We must—”
He kissed her then, long and sweet, and she forgot all her protests, the rogue.
