The realization hits me and I groan, my head dropping between her breasts. “I dinnae have a condom.”
“It’s awright,” she gasps, still writhing, “I have an implant. I know we’re both clean.”
Ripping my pants open, I barely get them down low enough to free my dick. I’ve been rough withher before but now, the slide of my cock inside her is slow, torturous, and unbearably good.
“Oh… I’vemissedthis,” she whispers rapturously. “I could never forgetthis.”
The cool air from the windows blows over hot, glistening skin, her wee moans and gasps playing like music in the silent room.
“I’ve missed this, too,” I rasp. “The feel of your softness and slick, the eager pull of your snug channel tightening against my cock as I pull out, welcoming me in again on the next thrust.”
There’s nothing prettier, how her lips part rapturously when I first push inside her, enjoying the feel of splitting her wide as her cunt resists my first few thrusts.
"Open wider, now. Open up for me." Her delicate hands fly up to grip the shifting muscles on my back and I hum soothingly as my hips move in a slow sweep, then a twist as I pull out, then a sharp dip as I slide inside her again, each movement sparking a gasp or a sigh from my Cat, the tightening of her strong thighs against my ribs.
“Let me see ye, open your eyes.” I rub my thumb over her wet lower lip, making her watch me, needing to see her break apart with me inside her. I slide a pillow under her hips, lifting her higher, and the new angle makes her eyes flywide open. “Look at me, love.”
“It’s so personal,” she manages between labored breaths, “too much to see, too intimate to watch.”
“Until me.” I kiss her harder. “Always, with me. I want to see every part of ye, my beautiful, stubborn, courageous girl.”
It’s not the lewd squelch of us together, not the heat that’s pouring off us in waves, in the end, it’s my sweet words that make my lass weep, tears squeezing from her eyes and she falls apart, writhing under me. I follow her as her cunt squeezes me desperately and I feel like every cell is detonating inside me.
When we can move, I pull her to her side, thigh wrapped over mine, still buried inside her and rub her lower back gently as we whisper scraps of nothing to each other.
***
Bauchle - Scottish slang for weakling.
A Dhia! - Gaelic translation of “Oh, my God!” Used to express shock and surprise.
Feart - Scottish slang for worried or afraid.
Chapter Nineteen
In which it is time to go back to the real world, whether we want to or not.
Catriona…
The sound of the call to morning prayer jolts us both awake, then I wallow in the luxury of sinking back into Lucas’ arms, resting on top of him, using him as my personal mattress the way I did in the mountains. Hard to think that his firm flesh and bone, those solid muscles could feel so comforting.
“I know we went at it all night, but I’m not too tired to get hard if ye keep pushing your thigh against my cock.” His sleepy voice, deeper than usual, rumbles under me.
Because I’m certain all the fluid has left my body, I’m shocked to feel a corresponding twinge down south. “Every part of me is sore,” I groan. “Though I canna find it in myself to regret a single moment of last night.”
Lucas arches a brow. “Not even that time on the chair in front of the terrace where I had to nearlysmother ye with my hand over your mouth when the guards strolled by?”
The memory is so vivid- riding him with my knees braced on the chair, his enormous hand pushing against my back and rubbing his equally enormous dick so hard against my G spot… “No, especially not that one.”
Putting his arm behind his head, he watches me, gaze moving from my face to my breasts and up again. “We should prepare, lass. The extraction team will be here this morning.”
“Mmm…” I can smell baking bread wafting from the kitchen and my stomach twinges. Resting my cheek on his sculpted chest, my eyes droop. “Just a little longer…”
Right on cue, because the Universe is a bastard and wants me to suffer, his phone dings with a new text. He reads it with a slight groan. “We’ve got thirty minutes, Cat. Up ye get.”
When we’re presentable, Imane invites us to a dining table out on the terrace. Some of the other guests are there, looking a bit worse for wear this morning, too. There’s a simpleFtour -breakfast - of fresh bread with olive oil and coarse salt for dipping and a tray of cheese and honey.
“My brother wished for me to apologize,” Imane tells everyone assembled at the table. “He had some responsibilities that had to be attended toimmediately, but he invites you to rest and relax as long as you wish.”
