Seventeen
As Brodie turned the key in the lock, some of Laurel’s confidence faded as she looked at the bed where they would consummate their marriage. She shivered when his hands rested lightly on her shoulders. He stepped forward, engulfing her in his embrace, cocooning her in comfort. She leaned back against Brodie and closed her eyes.
“I know we’ve both been eager, but I also understand this must be intimidating for you. We have all night and beyond to explore. There is no need to rush the moment,” Brodie reassured. Laurel nodded, her hands coming to rest on the forearms wrapped around her chest. Not having to look at Brodie made it easier for Laurel to share her feelings.
“I know what’s supposed to happen. But I don’t know how to do it. I don’t know how to—a woman should make sure—is a wife supposed to?” Laurel felt like a fool. She couldn’t form a complete sentence, too nervous and embarrassed to admit her uncertainty, even though she feared Brodie would think her hen-wit.
“I know you don’t know how, Laurel. I don’t expect you to. You aren’t a tavern wench whose next meal depends on her making sure her customer is pleased. And plenty of people believe a wife shouldn’t enjoy being bedded. None of that matters. The only thing that matters is what we choose to do together. I told you, there is no hurry.”
Laurel released a choked laugh. “That’s part of the problem.” She drew in a shaky breath and turned toward Brodie. “I don’t want to wait. I want everything—all of it—now, but I don’t know what that is or how to do it.”
Brodie tugged at the laces of Laurel’s gown, the gleam in his eyes seductive and predatory. “Patience is a virtue, Laurie. But that is not what I intend to teach you tonight.”
As Brodie continued to unfasten her gown, Laurel removed Brodie’s brooch at his shoulder, catching the yards of wool. With one hand easing a sleeve from her shoulder, Brodie removed his belt with the other. Removing his scabbard forced him to release Laurel, but she used the opportunity to kick off her riding boots and roll down her stockings from beneath her skirts and chemise.
Brodie tugged off his boots and hose until they stood barefoot before one another. He uncharacteristically tossed his plaid on the nearby chair, not usually so careless with it. In just his leine, which hung to his mid-thigh, Brodie eased Laurel’s sleeves from her arms, dropping petal-soft kisses on her neck and shoulders. Her head lolled from side to side as she reveled in the exquisite sensations Brodie created from his kisses and the knowledge that he was stripping her bare. She caught his mouth as Brodie pushed her skirts down over her hips. Left in only her chemise, Brodie lifted Laurel until her legs came around his waist, her chemise and his leine the only barrier to their bodies joining.
Laurel knew Brodie carried her toward the fireplace, but she felt as though she floated. His powerful hands gripped her thighs as she locked her ankles behind his back. Kneeling with ease, Brodie lowered Laurel to the floor and kissed the tip of her nose.
“Wait here,” he whispered before gathering the pillows from the bed, the cushions from the two chairs, and his plaid. Laurel smiled and reached for the items, setting about making them a nest while Brodie lit a fire. When it roared in the fireplace, Brodie turned back to Laurel. He fought the urge to maul her. Laurel lay bare against the pillow, Brodie’s plaid spread beneath her. Brodie stood staring a moment too long because Laurel shifted nervously. It spurred him into action, reminding himself to be gentle. Brodie whipped his leine over his head and tossed it aside as carelessly as he had his plaid. He came to lie beside Laurel, his hand cupping her jaw before sliding along her neck, then trailing his fingertips over her chest, her tightening nipple, along her belly, and to her waist. He continued his lazy exploration as his hand swept over her hip and thigh before the back of his hand brushed against the thatch of strawberry curls at the juncture of her thighs. His palm slid up her belly until he scooped her breast and brought his head to her nipple. His tongue swirled the peak as he observed Laurel. She watched him with heavy-lidded eyes, her breaths coming in short, deep pants.
“Touch me, Laurie,” Brodie instructed. He witnessed the relief on Laurel’s face as she lifted one hand to his shoulder while the other ran over his other shoulder and upper back before drifting over his chest. Her warm palm rested over his defined pectoral, feeling the thud of Brodie’s racing heartbeat, letting her know that he, too, was excited. She drew her nails over his ribs, making him squirm for a moment. She raised an eyebrow and smiled mischievously, storing that revelation for another time.
As Laurel’s hand rested on his chiseled backside, taut muscles bunched beneath her palm, Brodie drew Laurel closer. He lifted her leg over his hip, bringing his cock to her seam. Laurel didn’t know how to describe the sound she made. It was part whimper, part moan, a bit of a sigh, and most definitely a gasp. Whatever it was, Brodie understood it. Sensing her need, he rocked his hips against her as his fingers skimmed the inside of her thighs.
Laurel shivered, wishing she could climb inside Brodie, where the furnace that was his body would surely keep her warm. But her core ached for Brodie to slide inside her. She moved her hips in unison to Brodie’s, his groan telling her he wanted to join their bodies as much as she did.
“Laurel, do ye ken what will happen? Can ye tell?” Brodie was too intent upon pleasing Laurel to consider his courtly accent.
“Aye, Brodie. Yer cock will go inside ma sheath. Can ye soon?” Laurel closed her eyes as she asked her question.
“Look at me, Laurie.” Brodie waited until her blue hazel eyes met his gray ones. They reminded him of the glassy waters of Loch Awe, the body of water his home overlooked. “Do ye ken it might nae feel vera good at first?”
“I ken. But if I lie still it will pass, and ye will be done,” Laurel answered.
“Och, it will pass, but I dinna want ye to lie still, and I have nay intention of being done that soon,” Brodie grinned as his fingertips dipped within her seam. Laurel’s hips bucked forward at the familiar sensation. Her fingers bit into his shoulder and bicep as she moaned. “Do ye like that?”
“Ye ken I do,” Laurel panted.
“Laurie, what we do together is as much aboot yer pleasure as it is mine. If there’s aught ye dinna like, that doesnae feel good after the first few moments, promise me ye’ll tell me. I dinna want to do aught that will hurt ye if I can help it.”
“I ken, Brodie. Ye’ve protected me since the beginning. I ken I’m safe with ye.”
Brodie’s heart pounded against his ribs. Laurel’s trust meant more to him than that of his entire clan or the king. He knew it didn’t come easily, and he wanted to remain worthy of it always. “If there is aught ye wish me to do, that ye like, ye need only tell me, Laurie. Dinna let what ye enjoy embarrass ye. I want ye to enjoy our coupling.”
Laurel nodded and bit her lip. “Can we start?”
Brodie chuckled at her impatience. He growled and pounced when she gasped as he flipped her onto her back. His tongue traversed the length of her body from her neck to her sheath. Laurel watched, stunned by what she anticipated would happen, as Brodie kissed the creases of where her thighs and hips met. He slipped one finger into Laurel, easing her into the intimacy. As it had when they slipped away from the guards when they rode out, for only a moment, his broad finger felt large and intrusive, but soon it wasn’t nearly enough. Laurel shifted her hips, trying to find the satisfaction Brodie had taught her about. Brodie eased a second finger into her channel, careful not to be rough when all he wanted was to thrust his cock into her over and over until she screamed.
Laurel wasn’t able to reach much more than Brodie’s hair. She tunneled the fingers of one hand into his hair, unintentionally tugging while the other fisted his plaid when he blew cool air onto her eager flesh before his tongue rasped along her nub. Like a flower in bloom, Brodie peeled away the petals until his tongue dipped into her core. His masculine hum of pleasure made Laurel’s hips buck off the floor. He captured her hips and pinned her entrance to his mouth as he feasted. His teeth grazed the bundle of nerves as his tongue worked her slick flesh. He knew Laurel struggled for release, unaware of how to ease her need. He would teach her that night and every other for a lifetime.
Laurel arched her back, longing for Brodie’s ministrations, enjoying every touch, but impatient for more. Her breasts felt heavy and ached. She wished he had at least two mouths that could work her core and her breasts in unison. Instead, she kneaded the mounds as Brodie watched her. Her head fell back and eyes shut against anything that might distract her from Brodie. She moaned as a familiar tingle began low in her belly. Her sheath tightened, and the nub Brodie sucked throbbed. Unprepared for the pleasure that surged through her, wave after wave, Laurel cried out and reached for Brodie. His powerful body hovered over her until she pulled him down to press against her. She held him as he nudged the tip of his rod into her, tensing and waiting for the pain.
“Laurie, ye must relax, or I willna be able to enter ye. I dinna want to hurt ye by being too forceful,” Brodie explained as he stroked her temple, noticing how her hair was strewn across their pillows just as he’d envisioned the first day he met Laurel. His cock pulsed with need of its own, impatient to be buried with Laurel. She sighed and nodded as she made her body go lax. Brodie surged into her, her tight channel becoming a vice as she tensed around him. “Wheest, thistle. I ken it hurts. I’m so vera sorry. So, so sorry. But I promise I can give ye that pleasure ye just had. I willna move until ye’re ready.”Though I may die in the process.
Laurel gasped lungfuls of air as the burning pain made her squeeze her eyes shut. But when she inhaled Brodie’s masculine scent–pine and sandalwood now mixed with the musk of sex–she realized the pain was more a memory than acute. “Brodie,” she moaned as she shifted restlessly.
“Aye, lass.”
