"Did I hurt ye, lass?” he rasped, drawing in a shaky breath as her gaze met his and he saw how passion made the gold in her lovely eyes sparkle, the brown turning nearly black and accentuating the golden flecks.
"Nay,” she replied on a husky sigh, her hands sliding down his back to cup his taut, smooth buttocks. “Can ye feel it?” she whispered, hoping he would not guess the reason for her query.
"It?"
"The sponge."
"Oh. Nay. Ye did put one in, didnae ye?"
"Oh, aye, ‘tis there.” Wrapping her legs around his waist, she arched her body even as her hands pushed against his backside forcing him deeper. “Now?"
It took Iain a moment to catch his breath. “Nay, not even now. All I can feel is the moist, tight welcome of ye."
"And ‘tis verra welcome ye are, Sir MacLagan."
"'Tis verra glad I am to hear it, wee Islaen, for I think I shall often be tirling at the pin."
"Knock and the door shall open,” she whispered and her last word ended on a soft gasp for he began to move.
For just a little while their movements were slow, each of them savoring the feel of the joining of their bodies. Neither of them really had the patience for such leisurely lovemaking, however. Iain's movements soon grew fiercer and Islaen welcomed the change, her body greedy for the release that hovered just beyond her each.
Iain was only able to watch the first glow of her release transform her face before her inner shudders forced him to join her in the fall into passion's abyss. When he felt her body greedily accept the gift of his passion he clung tightly to her and felt a brief but strong touch of sorrow for the fact that the seed he poured into her welcoming body was denied any chance of taking root. It seemed unspeakably unfair that God should make him desire children, then show him how easily and horribly that desire could bring about death.
Determinedly he shook away that thought and simply enjoyed the feel of a soft, willing woman beneath him. Catalina had always made him feel little better than a rapist, nothing he did raising her response above that of a grudgingly endured duty. Islaen gave freely of her passion, turned to fire beneath him, and he reveled in it. She even likes the aftertime, he mused with an inner self-satisfied smile, as he felt her body move beneath his, her hands moving over him in a sign of lethargic satisfaction.
When Iain finally moved off of her, Islaen eluded his attempt to pull her close. Mumbling something vague about a need to wash up, she slid out of bed, cursing the fact that she had nothing at hand to slip on. Moving quickly and blushing deeply, she hurried behind the screen and extracted the sponge, then washed up.
She felt confident that he would make love to her again before morning. Although he had said he had felt nothing she had to make sure. Being so new to the game she was sure he would accept the excuse that she had forgotten to replace it after washing up and would give her another chance. She prayed that he would not notice for she did not know what to do if he did.
Before dashing back to the bed she took careful note of how the sponge looked after use. She doubted he would go so far in assuring himself that she obeyed his demands but she would take no chances. Every time they made love she would make sure that everything indicated that she had obeyed him. So too did she pray that she did not take too long to accomplish what she planned, for she did not want to have to bear the strain of such deception for too long.
Taking a deep breath, she hurried back to bed. She colored deeply when she saw that Iain watched her every step. Slipping beneath the covers she saw him grin, then he reached for her and she pressed her flushed face against his chest.
"Ye bounce,” he murmured, a tremor of laughter in his voice as he nuzzled her thick hair. “'Tis lovely to watch,” he said when she groaned softly. “So lovely I am sore tempted to ask ye to run about the room a few times so that I might just watch."
"Och, ye wouldnae,” she gasped, lifting her head to stare at him, not sure if he was teasing her or not.
"Weel, I will wait until ye arenae so shy about your nakedness. ‘Tis a lovely shape ye have, lass. Ye should be proud of it."
"Ye are muckle bonnie yourself, Iain."
"I have no more nor less than any other mon."
"Mayhaps but ‘tis put together most pleasingly."
"Weel, if ye are pleased ‘tis all that matters."
"Ye really dinnae see it, do ye."
"See what?” He idly began to trace the gentle curves of her body with his hands.
"How the women look at ye. They wouldnae eye an ugly mon so eagerly nor invite him so boldly."
"Weel, I have ne'er thought myself ugly. I have little interest in whores, lass. They can tempt when a mon has naught in his bed, but I have more than enough for any mon now. I think t'will take near all my strength to handle ye."
Smiling with unconscious seductiveness, Islaen rubbed her body lightly against his, an invitation he was quick to answer. Her passion was checked slightly when he entered her but when he said nothing, seemed to notice nothing, she was quickly caught in her desire for him again. She did not think of it again until she laid sprawled beneath his sated body enjoying the tingle his lovemaking induced in her.
"Do ye need to go, er, wash up?” he asked as he slowly eased the intimacy of their embrace.
