Bloody hell, if she had shown up naked, his shaft wouldn’t be so unbearably hard as it was now, gazing upon her barely clothed, perfectly endowed figure.
“What are you doing here?” he growled.
Her lips curved into a saucy smile, the same one she wore in his dream just before she took his engorged penis into her mouth. She pushed away from the window and started for him. “Stimulating you, my laird.”
And it was working better than she could even know. Not that he needed stimulation to want her. She’d had his cock rock-solid since their encounter in the kitchen. Hell, she’d had him aroused since they shared that first kiss in the courtyard. Painfully so, since the moment she climaxed in his hand and he had tasted her come.
Summoning his strength of will, he lied, “I told you, I don’t want you here.”
She was at his side in a blink, lowering herself to the bed. Now that she had moved away from the moonlight, he could barely make out her shape. He didn’t have to see her to know what she wanted. Taking advantage of the fact he had once again kicked the bedcovers onto the floor, she aligned her body with his, pressed her hands to his naked chest and pushed him back onto the mattress. He complied out of shock more than anything else.
His heart sped at her boldness, at the promise he had seen in her eyes just before she’d left the moonlight. What in the hell had come over her? He thought she had been toying with him in the kitchen. That she would refuse him the moment he agreed with her, in order to get back at him for doing the same. Her unabashed handling of his body didn’t feel like she intended to pull away. The erratic beat of her heart against his spoke only of want. Of the same lust that ruled him day and night.
Dragging her heavy breasts against his chest so that his fingers itched to deliver them from their thin confines, Kristiana teased a kiss at the corner of his mouth. She rose up, scraping her nails over his torso as she went, and straddled him with her bare thighs. His entire body shivered with her light touch, with the sensation of her pussy intimately cradling his cock. She was already wet for him—her dampness seeped through his breeches and nearly pushed him past the limits of judgment.
Though it was an obvious lie, he bit out, “I don’t want you.”
Laughter, teasing and erotic, drifted from her lips. She slid her hand down his abdomen and scooted lower on his body. The feel of her wet cunt grinding against his hardened sex was almost too much to bear. He held his breath when her fingers feathered over the taut, hair-covered flesh at the limits of his breeches. They dipped beneath the edge of the material, the nails grating over his sensitive skin, and he could not hold back his moan any more than his curse.
“You’re a bad liar, Tavish,” Kristiana goaded. “Shall we see what you’re good at?”
The words were mocking, his own turned back on him, and damned powerful. She moved lower still and her fingers went to work on loosening his breeches. She had pressed her mouth to his navel and begun to lick when the stimulating smell drifted to his nose. “That smell,” he uttered. “It’s the one from the kitchen.”
“Aye. I thought you might like it.”
He did. Almost as much as he liked her own natural scent. Almost.
This was insane. He couldn’t allow her to continue with her ministrations, couldn’t permit her to do whatever it was she thought to do with his body. She deserved so much more than what he had to offer. Satisfaction, yes, that he could give her. Passion, even that he would allow. But anything beyond that, notions of love and adoration, he had left behind years ago. Women were not to be trusted, just as most men were not, for no matter how they might pretend they wanted you for you, because they cared for you more than life itself, it was always some grander prize they sought in the long run.
Clinging to that knowledge, he asked again, “What are you doing here, Kristiana?”
Her fingers resumed their task of loosening his breeches, and she responded with a throaty purr. “Giving you an early Christmas gift.”
The earthy scent filtered to his nose once more and finally he was able to put a name to it. Myrrh. “You think to give me a gift of myrrh?” he asked sardonically.
“Nay, my laird. I think to give you a gift of pleasure.”
“Damn it, woman, I said I wasn’t interest—”
His words died on a harsh grunt as her hand dipped into the opening of his breeches and cupped his bulging cock. She grasped the head of his shaft and ran her thumb over the moisture he felt building there. His penis pulsed beneath her touch, his balls drawing higher. The reckless urge to roll her over, thrust deep into her tight, wet pussy, and fuck her until his hunger for her was gone forever, claimed him head to toe.
“Aye, my laird, ’tis clear you don’t want me.”
Tavish shut his eyes and thought of the cruel harshness of war in a useless attempt to block out her actions, her insolent words. But not even the memory of the time he spent on the battlefield could bring an end to the lust coursing through his veins. No woman had ever affected him this way, overruling his sanity, his judgment. Not even that woman he had professed to love several years before only to have his adoration tossed back into his face. These feelings were simply not safe.
He opened his eyes and snapped, “Leave me. I’m weary.”
“So weary you’d take no pleasure from my mouth on your cock? From the feel of my lips suckling your penis deep into my mouth whilst my hands fondle your balls?”
He gasped at her brazenness. He, the supposed rake, actually gasped over a virgin’s suggestion. He caught her wrists in his hands as she began the torturously slow descent toward his erect shaft. “Don’t do this.”
“Aye. Do.”
Her hands remained immobile, but her mouth continued its descent, until the scintillating heat of her breath rolled along the ridges of his erection, making him throb with the need to feel her sweet lips wrapped around his aching manhood. She licked the tip of his penis, and he growled with the sinuous swipe of her rough tongue over his cock, the feel of her long, silky hair teasing and tickling with each of her moves.
She laughed huskily, in a way that fueled his blood past the boiling point. “You taste so very good. Salty yet sweet. I would like to suck your cock until your seed spills into my mouth, and then I would like to feel it embedded into the depths of my body. I would like for you to make me scream. Would you like that as well, my laird?”
“Kristiana,” he warned.
“Nay, Kristi. ‘Tis what my friends call me and we’re about to become friends. First, we must be rid of these clothes.”
She pried at his breeches, and though the last thing he should have done was to help her, he freed her wrists and lifted his hips. He could almost see her triumphant smile in the dark. His own lips drew into a flat line as he called himself a thousand kinds of idiot.
“You do want me?”
She sounded surprised, as if she thought it had been easy for him to refute her time and again. She had no idea. Just as she had no idea how much his yielding to her would mean. He would not make her his mistress, for she deserved far more. While he had no use for a wife, he did want an heir and, more, he did want her. He would do right by her. As soon as time allowed, they would be wed—even if their union meant exposing the truth about Tomas. Until then they would give into the passion spurring them on and indulge in each other’s bodies.
Kristiana dropped her mouth to his groin and suckled at the head of his shaft. The skin of his cock tightened and near painful pressure built throughout his body. As much as the idea of her fucking him with her mouth pleased him, he wouldn’t allow it this first time. This first time would be for her, to ease her into the pleasures of the flesh.
“Stop,” he ordered.
“Nay, you do want me, my laird. Admit it!”
“Oh, I want you, Kristi. The need to fuck you has driven me all but mad these past days. But if we do this, we will do it right. And call me Tavish. It’s what my friends call me and we’re about to become the very closest of frien
ds.”
He heard her gasp as he caught her in his arms and rolled her onto her back, then there was no sound at all as he smothered her mouth in a bruising kiss.
Chapter Six
He’d lied.
Tavish had to have lied when he said he couldn’t drug a maiden with his kisses, for surely Kristiana was drunk from the power of his mouth against hers. His hungry tongue thrust back and forth, in and out, robbing her of the ability to think, talk and breathe with its powerful stroke. And his hands…
Oh, the man knew how to use them.
He pulled away from her lips to trail wet, hot kisses along her jaw and down her neck. His tongue laved at her pulse point and she shivered at the lust pouring through her. Silently, she willed him to move farther down, to suckle at her nipples the way he had that night on the parapet. It was the cold that had first peaked her nipples that night. Tonight it was anticipation, excitement for the sensations claiming her mind, body, and soul, and, more, for those fantasies yet to be realized.
He slipped his hands beneath her short silk and lace nightdress and the breath snagged in her throat. Once he was past the barrier of her thin gown, she’d expected him to go right for her mound, fondle her sex until wetness lathered her lips and soaked his fingers. Instead, his cool, callused palms slid up the length of her body, igniting a fire of need wherever he touched. He reached her breasts and cupped the fullness of one. His thumb flicked over her aroused nipple and she bucked up against him and licked the air in search of a fulfillment she had only before dared to imagine.
Tavish plumped her breast in his hand, feeding as much as he could take into his mouth. His licks turned to sucks then to a fierce tugging that shot white hot desire straight from her throbbing nipple to her heated core. His free hand journeyed downward to stroke over her belly with a languidness surely meant to drive a lady mad with want. That skilled hand drifted farther yet, stroking the curly down at the entrance to her soaking sex and Kristiana’s hips instinctively lurched upward in search of the tender assault his roaming fingers would provide.
Only that invasion never came, and a restless whimper broke from her lips.
Pulling from her breast, he chuckled softly then brushed the softest of kisses over her parted lips. “Patience, Kristi. We are to do this right.”
Nay. She didn’t wish to be patient. She wished to end this mindless hunger, to feel the length of his strong, thick shaft imbedded inside her virgin flesh. To finally be his, if only when the sun was set and no one was the wiser.
Her heart twisted with the thought. She forced away the ache to concentrate on the man laying siege to her body. The man she’d come to care for whether she wanted to or not. She had chosen to take this path, to be his mistress. She had no right to ask for more. To want more— this would have to remain behind closed doors.
Her thoughts left her when Tavish’s strong hands chased back down her body. With a flash of silk against the moonlight, he ran his palms up once more, raising her gown to reveal every inch of the naked skin beneath. He eased her forward to remove the nightdress, then set her back against the bed pillows and gazed down upon her.
Though she knew his vision was limited at best, Kristiana couldn’t hold back her blush. She worried her lower lip as his silent perusal continued. He’d seen her breasts before and spoke of their beauty, but never had he looked upon her so fully, not even in the near darkness. No man had. What if she weren’t all he had imagined? What if he turned her away? She could take him wanting her for nothing more than a strumpet to dally with when the mood suited, but she couldn’t take his rejection. Not again.
Speak, she silently urged.Or move. Anything but continuing to gaze upon her, his night-veiled eyes searing her flesh, liquefying her limbs with twin forces of expectancy and dread.
Finally, his hand returned to her breast, lightly stroking her nipple and sending pleasure coiling deep in her belly. “I have imagined you this way many times, darling. You’re far more ravishing than even my mind could conjure.”
A breath she hadn’t realized she held whooshed from her lungs. Though his words comforted her on many levels, they also caused her blush to burn higher. “’Tis dark, sir. Surely, your eyes play tricks on you.”
“Tavish,” he corrected. “And it’s not dark enough to hide your beauty.”
Nor dark enough to hide his crooked grin. His voice was edged with a rough husk that spoke of passion, not humor, and still she could detect his errant smile. Her own mouth curved upward until her thoughts caught up with her.
Was he truly joyous over their coupling? And if so, what did that say of his affections? Was it possible he cared for her as Mary claimed?
Kristiana’s heart beat faster with the possibilities, prospects she knew better than to consider, to want. But she did want. She wanted him for her own, and more than just in flesh. She wanted him in name. For a lifetime.
“Part your thighs, Kristi. I wish to drink in your sweetness.”
Forcing away the blush that again threatened, she did as he asked, spreading her legs wide for fear did she not consent he would again peg her an awkward virgin and order her be gone from his chamber. Then she would have nothing. Not even his nights.
Tavish’s thumb worked a slow path from her breast along the softness of her belly to her parted thighs. He feathered his fingers through her downy curls as he had moments before, but this time he didn’t stop when she arched into his touch. This time he rimmed her swollen mound, stroking the opening of her feminine lips until her sex grew unbearably heated and her juices dampened her inner thighs.
“Nice. So very nice,” he spoke on a rasp.
This was nice, but she wanted more. And she wanted it now. “Please, Tavish…”
With nary a word, he drove a single finger midway into her core. Her breath caught with the rapid entry, then turned to a low moan as he stroked back and forth against her cleft. She writhed against his touch, whimpering her need when the pad of his finger scrapped over the distended nub and sent tremulous waves through her body.
“You’re ripe, darling. Ripe and mine. For when this night is through, you’ll know no other man. Are we agreed?”
Words came hard as he continued to pet her nub, his ceaseless fondling bringing her ever closer to the edge of the unknown. Kristiana forced her mind to clear, words to form. Through parched lips, she squeaked out, “Aye, my laird. I am yours. Always.”
“Always,” he repeated, and then he thrust his finger deeply into her.
She struggled not to clamp her knees shut against the bittersweet pressure all but drowning her with his entry. As if he knew her mind, he laughed. “Your legs will go nowhere, Kristi. I’ll see to that.”
She had little time to wonder over his proclamation before he pulled his finger from her body and grabbed hold of her knees, steadying them in place. Then his wide, naked shoulders were pushing against her thighs, splaying them wider, ever wider until she felt near to the snapping point. But she wouldn’t snap, she knew that fact even before his tongue came down on her sex and sliced through the part at her center.
She wouldn’t snap, but Holy Mother she might explode!
Grasping tightly to Tavish’s thick hair, Kristiana dug her heels against the mattress and screamed her ecstasy. His tongue licked at her swollen flesh again and again, piercing and thrusting into her tight, hot core, until the juices of arousal rolled down the cheeks of her ass in plentiful streams. She bucked against his mouth, shouting loud enough to wake the entire Castle when his teeth found her bud.
The edges of his sharp incisors caught hold of her nub and he tugged fiercely. The pressure that had been building since he first touched her turned into an inferno of uncontrollable lust. She couldn’t stop her trembling, couldn’t stop her grip on his hair from becoming ever harder, nor could she stop her scream as the orgasm rippled through her body with mind-numbing delight.
“Oh…Tavish!” She lurched against his seeking tongue, clinging to him for dear life as her pelvis
ground against his face. She was acting so very far from the lady, but she didn’t care. She cared naught for a thing but the man who ate at her with such skill. And, oh, how she cared for him. Much more than was safe, for her head or her heart.
The tremors subsided and Tavish released her knees and lowered himself over her body. Curling his fingers through her chaotic hair, he brushed a gentle kiss over her mouth. Wishing him to be anything but gentle, she caught his face in her hands and thrust her tongue out, licking ravenously at his mouth. His tongue met her halfway, dueling in a silent feast, pillaging her of her slowly returning senses while sharing the salty, sweet juices that warmed his tongue.
A Gift of Myrrh Page 8
