His fingers felt clumsy as he undid her thick braid. He spread the long sable hair out, marveling as he always did at its thickness, its shine, how it rippled down her graceful back. Grasping a handful, he closed his eyes and brought it to his nose, inhaling the fragrance of woodbine that emanated from the tresses. Then his hands moved about her body to cup her two breasts in his hands. He felt the weight of the soft flesh in his palms as he brushed the nipples lightly with the balls of his thumbs.
Adair leaned back against him, her eyes closed as she enjoyed the sensation of his hands. “I need a hairbrush,”
she told him. “It has been months since I was able to properly attend to my hair. I can do just so much with the little comb that Jack carved for me last winter as a Twelfth Night gift.”
“I’ll buy you a brush at the midsummer fair,” he promised her, pushing her hair aside to drop a kiss on her rounded shoulder.
“And a packet of needles. We have but two left,” she told him.
His fingers tightened about her breasts as she pressed herself back against him. “You are a greedy wench,” he told her.Jesu!He had had her with him almost nine months, and she could still engage his lust quicker than any he had ever known. He rubbed his manroot between the crease separating her bottom.
She turned in his embrace, slipping her arms about his neck and letting the fur on his chest tickle her nipples. “If you expect me to keep making your clothing you will give me the needles,” she told him. The tip of her tongue flicked around the outline of his mouth several rotations. Reaching down, she stroked his length.
“You are so greedy, my lord,” she teasingly scolded him.
“Your laddie is already eager for sport.”
“Aye, he is,” the laird agreed, “but I am going to teach you something different tonight, my honey love. Before he visits your sweet sheath, he would bury himself between your lips. Kneel, Adair.” He gently pushed her down before him.
“I have heard such things are forbidden,” Adair whispered, staring fascinated at the manhood before her.
“Holy Mother Church . . . Will we be damned if I do it?”
“Why?” he asked her, amused.
“It is wrong!” Adair cried.
“Is it? Holy Mother Church says keeping a mistress is wrong. They say that every time a man mounts his wife it should be for the sole purpose of creating a child and nothing more. They say a man’s and a woman’s bodies are not for pure enjoyment, but only for procreating another soul onto this earth. Dried-up old men with no knowledge of women and passion. Or sodomites who plow between a lad’s buttocks for pleasure, not procre-ation. And yet I know a woman’s body is meant for enjoyment, as is a man’s. There is naught wrong if we both gain pleasure from it. Take me in your mouth, Adair.”
Her small hand wrapped itself about him. Slowly, hes-itantly, she opened her lips and took him in. He was thick, and he was warm.
“Suckle me, my honey love,” he crooned to her, his hand on her dark head. “That’s it! That’s it! Gentle, now.
Be mindful of your teeth, for he is a delicate lad.”
Shy at first, Adair grew bolder with confidence. She sucked upon him. She ran her tongue around the tip of him and tasted a salty drop of his juices. Soon she found she could no longer contain him within the cavern of her mouth.
Sensing her dilemma, he drew her to her feet and kissed her a long, slow kiss. “You did well, my honey love,” he told her. “Very well.”
“It has made me feel very lustful,” Adair whispered.
“Then we must satisfy your lust,” he said with a grin.
“Nay! I am not ready,” she told him. “On your back, my lord! It is my turn.”
Fascinated by her sudden boldness in their bed, for Adair had always preferred to be led to passion than tolead, he lay down upon his back and allowed her to have her way with him. She crouched over him; then, bending, she began to lick him. She pulled at the hair on his chest with her teeth, making little growling noises as she did so. She brought a fire to his belly with her hot tongue and her little kisses. And then suddenly she pulled herself up and pressed her sex down onto his face.
Surprised, he lost his breath for a brief moment, but then he foraged with his tongue until he pressed through her nether lips and found the center of her desire, which he proceeded to tease and taunt with his tongue. “Witch!” he groaned into the moist, sweet flesh as he brought her satisfaction, and lapped at her juices until she was whimpering with her delight.
“Fuck me!” he suddenly heard her beg him. “Oh, Jesu, Conal, I am so hungry for you. I need you to be inside of me! Oh, hurry!” And then Adair was on her back, and she felt him enter her in a single thrust. She almost screamed aloud, but pushed her fist into her mouth to prevent the cry from erupting forth.
He rode her to her pleasure, but he did not leave her, for he had not yet had his. Slowly he began to pump her, going deep, withdrawing. And at first slowly. Slowly. He sensed her beginning to climb again, and his movements became faster and faster. This time she did not hold back. Adair’s scream of unadulterated pleasure burst forth at the same time as his roar of gratification. He thought his juices would never stop flowing as they jerked forth in a fierce staccato rhythm that filled her and left them both weak. There was nothing to say.
Conal wrapped his arms about Adair and they both fell asleep.
He awoke in the night to find the moon washing over their bodies. Adair lay curled on her side, her black lashes tipped silver in the light, her sable hair covering her shoulders. He lay watching her for some time before he fell back asleep. He considered how empty his lifewould be without her, and knew he would do whatever he had to in order to bring her to the altar. He wanted bairns with her. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Was that love? He didn’t know, and he wasn’t going to say he loved her when he still wasn’t certain what love was. He didn’t want her accusing him of lying.
Lord Home and the Hepburn of Hailes departed in the morning. Both had kissed Adair’s hand and thanked her for both her hospitality and her information.
