“Because…” He leaned over her, the fierce glint in his eyes making her belly flutter. “I am so maddened with lust for you that I fear I will ne’er leave your bed. That I shall tup you again and again, from the moment we waken in the morning until the day’s light fades, and then onward through the night.”
“Tup?” It was a word she didn’t know.
How odd that her female place quivered deliciously, seemingly well aware of the term’s meaning.
“Tupping is what we are about to do, sweeting,” he confirmed her guess. He was also naked, and she hadn’t even seen him remove his kilt.
It was just gone.
No, she erred…
She now saw that he’d tossed it over a chair.
She also saw the large and hard-swollen length of him and her apparently oh-so-knowledgeable and eager womanly bits caught flame in hot, tingly readiness.
He was so beautiful in his wild, Highland glory.
“Oh, my.” Her gaze locked on that part of him. “Oh, my, oh, my…”
“Stop talking and kiss me.” Somehow he was already in the bed with her.
Equally startling, but wondrously so, he’d nudged her thighs apart and managed to roll on top of her. Now she could feel the steely heat and strength of his manhood pressing first against her butterfly-filled belly, and then he was actually nudging her, the broad, velvety tip of that part of him seeking entry, then easing ever so steadily inside her.
And all the while he kissed her, between kisses, taking a breath only long enough to tell her how much he desired her, how she ‘flamed his blood’ and how much he loved her.
She was too overcome to reply, especially as his kisses were so thrilling. Again and again, he swirled his tongue over and against hers in a deep, ongoing openmouthed kiss. He was tireless, it seemed, an expert kisser. And the hot, oh-so-sensual giving-and-taking of their shared breath proved almost too exquisite to bear. So exciting that she wondered if one could die from such intense pleasure?
If so, she just knew she wouldn’t see the morrow’s sunrise.
But she’d die happy.
That she would.
Too bad, she was killing him, too.
He wasn’t complaining and made no move to stop kissing her, but his thick, hard length was now fully inside her – she’d felt the sharp pinch and sting that could only mean he’d surged into her. He’d stilled for a moment, but he was moving again now, matching rhythm with the glides of his tongue in and out of her mouth.
And although she found this ‘tupping’ ever more wondrous, he seemed to be tensing above her and making the most frightening sound deep in his chest, as if he couldn’t bear what they were doing.
She broke their kiss. “You don’t like this?”
“I am mad for you,” he hissed, slanting his mouth over hers again, kissing her even more roughly.
Drinking her breath, his tongue seducing hers, branding her in a way that warned she’d hunger for this all her days.
She imagined they’d have many more children than Alasdair and Sally.
Two dozen or more wouldn’t surprise her.
She could do this with him forever.
As if to convince her, he slid his hand between her legs, his fingers rubbing her as his hard length plunged in and out of her. And –who would’ve believe it?– his fingers stroking and teasing her tingly woman’s flesh was just as exciting, and good, as everything else he was doing to her.
Or so she thought until his thumb slid over an incredibly sensitive spot that sent such intense pleasure shooting through her that she bucked her hips and cried out with the sheer glory of it.
Oh, my, oh, my, oh, my!
Had anything ever felt so divine?
