“Why not?” She asked as she pulled back. “Does it disgust you? Do I disgust you?”
“I ken you ken the answer to both questions, Abby.”
“Do you think me a whore for going down on my knees for you?” Abigail continued to stroke Ronan.
“Of course not. I just…” Ronan trailed off, and Abigail froze. She looked at Ronan’s pained expression, and she knew it wasn’t from a physical ache. She came to her feet and wrapped her arms around his waist. Slowly, his arms encircled her, and she laid her head against Ronan’s chest.
“Do you worry you won’t ken what to do?” Abigail whispered. At Ronan’s shuddering breath, she knew she’d guessed correctly. “Ronan, you can’t disappoint me. I want whatever you are willing to give. I want it so much that naught short of never touching you again could disappoint me.”
Abigail stepped back and looked up at Ronan. She read the doubt across his face, and she wished she could rip his father from his grave and shake him. She doubted the man intended to create so much anxiety that Ronan never bedded any woman, but that was the outcome. She took his hand and walked to the foot of the bed before turning to look at him.
“I want to do this to you—for you—with you. However you look at it. I want to, Ronan. I don’t expect aught in return. If you don’t like it, I’ll stop.” Abigail promised as she reached back to undo the laces to her kirtle.
“You ken I’ll like it,” Ronan whispered. Abigail reached up and unfastened the brooch on his shoulder, holding out the pin which he took and dropped in his sporran. Ronan lifted the sword strapped to his back and leaned it against the foot of the bed as Abigail loosened his belt. He leaned forward and quickly shucked off his stockings and boots. Abigail’s hands trailed along his thighs as she inched his leine higher. When she reached his waist, she wrapped her hands around his cock and stroked as Ronan tore the leine off over his head. Abigail froze as she watched the muscles across Ronan’s chest and abdomen bunch and release. She’d thought Lathan was attractive with and without clothes, but she had no idea a man could look like Ronan. Fine scars marked his bronzed skin, and some were deeper than she wished to learn about. She continued to stroke him with one hand as her fingertips ran over the planes and ridges.
“You are so beautiful,” Abigail whispered. “I don’t mean that in a womanly sense. I mean as in perfection.”
She released his rod and skimmed both of her hands over him before walking around to run her fingers over his shoulders, back, and buttocks. She was in no hurry, exploring what she could reach as her eyes gorged on his form. He was unlike anything she ever imagined. When she came to stand before him again, Ronan saw how she marveled at his body. He was certain his cock grew as her gaze heated his bollocks. Abigail found she couldn’t speak louder than a whisper. It was as though his physique demanded quiet reverence.
“Am I the first woman to see you bare? I mean, other than a healer?” Abigail looked up, then regretted the question. She didn’t want to know if there was a woman who bathed him at his keep.
“Ye are,” Ronan’s burr slipped through as he pushed Abigail’s gown down the length of her body until it pooled on the floor.
“I don’t ken that I’ll ever be able to explain what that means to me. But I think I understand now why men demand virgins. There is something intoxicating kenning that a mon as perfectly crafted as you are is for my eyes only.” She glanced up to meet his eyes before she once again feasted on him. “You have bestowed upon me a gift that I swear never to take for granted.”
Ronan cupped Abigail’s cheek in one hand as he eased her against him. His cock pulsed between their bodies, and Abigail resumed stroking as their kiss heated to a frenzy. She nudged him toward the bed before once again sinking to her knees. She slid her mouth over Ronan’s cock and moaned as the head brushed the back of her throat. She calmed herself, fighting against her instinct to gag. She would do nothing that made Ronan fear she didn’t enjoy every moment of what they shared. She’d performed the same act for Lathan countless times over the course of their year together, but never had she longed to feel a man’s rod fill her mouth. Her eyes drifted closed as she focused on the groans and sighs Ronan made as she did everything in her repertoire to please him.
“Abby,” Ronan hissed. “I’m too close. I canna stop.” He tried to pull back, but Abigail’s lips clamped around him as one hand stroked what she could no longer manage and the other swatted him away. Her piercing glare warned him that she had no intention of relenting. He grasped the bedcovers in both hands as his hips thrust, and his seed filled Abigail’s mouth. Their matching sighs made them smile as Abigail licked her lips, then patted the corners with her fingertips. Ronan stood and helped her to her feet before pulling her into his embrace. He’d fantasized for years about what having a woman’s mouth wrapped around him would feel like, but he’d wholly underestimated the melee of emotions he experienced as he watched Abigail. He understood it was only partly physical. The woman who stood before him was an enchantress, but she was kind and patient. She introduced him to the pleasures of the flesh by giving rather than taking.
Ronan lifted Abigail off her feet, and she squeaked. Abigail had never seen a more handsome face than when Ronan grinned. She cupped his cheeks, her fingers barely touching his bristly skin. She kissed him with all the tenderness she could muster. She was driven to ensure he understood what she felt wasn’t just lust. Ronan lay Abigail on the bed, and as she scooted back toward the pillows, he prowled toward her. He pushed her chemise up her thighs until he found the thatch of black curls. She eased her thighs open, and Ronan spied the promised land for the first time. In theory, he knew exactly what to do, but in practice, he still feared failure.
“Ronan, please don’t make me wait. I just need you to touch me. Please,” Abigail begged. Ronan looked into her eyes and knew she wasn’t encouraging him out of pity. The desire in her eyes and strain across her face told him that her impatience and need were real. He kissed along the inside of her thigh until he reached the juncture of her leg and hip. His fingers ran through the ebony curls and along her nether lips as his other arm slid beneath her thigh to grasp her hip. He could feel the dew that drenched her entrance. He glanced up and met her eyes. “I really need you, Ronan.”
Spurred on by her words and her body’s telltale signs that she wanted him, he slipped his middle finger into Abigail and kissed the hollow where her leg and hip met. He slid his finger in and out, unsure of what else he was supposed to do. He watched Abigail writhe with growing frustration, so he slid a second finger into her. It mollified her, but only for a moment before she once more squirmed with impatience. He tentatively flicked his tongue at her entrance, and Abigail moaned deeply.
“Please,” she panted. Ronan would have gladly indulged, had he known what to do. He laved his tongue across Abigail’s heated skin and found the pearl hidden within her folds. He noticed that touching the bud made her clench her hands in the sheets, so he continued to focus his attention there as his fingers slid in and out. He wondered if Abigail expected him to do more, but he hadn’t a clue what that would be. Her heels pressed into the mattress as she lifted her hips in offering. He continued as he had, but as he watched Abigail’s expressions, he realized she wasn’t enjoying his ministrations as he had hers. Rather than moving toward completion, she appeared to be straining with frustration.
Abigail felt when Ronan began to withdraw. His fingers moved slower, and his tongue no longer applied the same pressure. She looked down at him, her eyes stinging from the sweat that dripped from her brow. A maelstrom of need, impatience, and eagerness held her in its clutches as she reveled in the feel of Ronan touching her. But she realized that he didn’t understand how his touch both tormented and pleasured her. She deduced that he was self-conscious and worried that he was failing her. She didn’t dare offer suggestions, but at the same time, she didn’t want to pretend that she climaxed if she didn’t. She wouldn’t lie to him, but neither did she want to embarrass him. She considered her phrasing before making her request.
“Ronan, you’re bigger than just your two fingers. I need more. I can’t stop imagining what you’ll feel like, how you’ll fill me,” Abigail explained. But she realized she’d said the wrong thing when Ronan’s expression shuttered.
Och hell. He doesnae want to be reminded that I amnae a virgin, that I ken what it feels like to have a mon inside me. That did naught to reassure him. Sard!
Ronan struggled with what to do. He’d practically spilled the moment Abigail looked at his cock, let alone touched him. But it was obvious he was nowhere near satisfying Abigail as she had done him. He didn’t know if he should give up or continue to bungle along, praying that he touched her pleasingly. He obliged and slid a third finger into Abigail’s sheath, and her head fell back as her arms gave out. Her hips undulated, and he grew hopeful that his ministrations were finally bringing her closer to the brink.
Without thought, Abigail reached between her legs and grasped Ronan’s hand, guiding his thumb to her pearl to rub in circles. She was too close to release, but the more she strained, the more elusive it felt. Ronan followed her lead, but he noticed her expression became pinched when she let him touch her without her guidance. With a groan, she brushed Ronan’s thumb out of the way, using her own fingers to create the pressure she needed. When he moved to withdraw his hand, she grabbed his wrist and pressed his fingers deeper with a feral scowl that warned him not to stop. Her moans intensified until her body went rigid, and he felt her core tighten around his fingers. She went limp with a sigh, her eyes resting closed.
Ronan withdrew his hand, unsure if he’d failed or marginally helped, but he knew he hadn’t succeeded in his attempt. He stood and went to the stand with the ewer and pitcher. He cleansed himself before bringing the damp cloth to Abigail. She sat up and reached for the cloth, but when Ronan hesitated, she sighed and leaned back. Her eyes once again closed. Ronan assumed it was an invitation, so he swept the linen square over her seam, surprised when Abigail moaned again. When he was through, he returned to the washstand, his back toward her. He didn’t hear her approach and jumped when she ran her fingers up his back then down to his waist where she wrapped her arms around him. She leaned her head against his back and squeezed before planting quick kisses over his heated skin. She pulled at his upper arm, wanting him to face her. When he wouldn’t budge, she walked around him and moved the washstand. She strained to kiss him, but with his chin held high, she couldn’t reach.
“Please don’t do this,” Abigail whispered. “Don’t shut me out. I need to kiss you as much as I needed you to touch me.”
Ronan glanced down and noticed the tears in Abigail’s eyes, and he felt contrite for being cold after they shared their first true intimacy. But he waited too long, and a tear trickled down Abigail’s cheek as she took a step back. Ronan’s arms shot out and brought her against his body with such force that she puffed out her breath. He swept his thumb over her cheek to catch her tears.
“I never want to make you cry, Abby. I’m sorry,” Ronan apologized. “This is aboot me, not you. And I ken it’s selfish without saying it out loud.”
“You didn’t do aught wrong. I was enjoying it, and that’s why I grew impatient. But, Ronan, do you ken how I kenned what you liked?”
“Experience?” Ronan blurted. Abigail’s eyes widened, and she stepped away. Hurt made her wrap her arms around her, her shoulders came up to her ears, and her face crumpled.
