Jeane did not know how she was going to get through this without exploding with desire.
Fergus drew in a ragged breath when Jeane’s hands lit on the waistband of his kilt. He removed his fingers from her, placing his hands over hers.
“I want to see ye, too,” she pleaded, begging him, and who was Fergus to deny her anything?
He undressed, dropping his kilt to the ground and tugging his tunic over his head.
He stood there, bare as the day he was born, and she looked him up and down like he was a side of meat, and she was starving. He could not help but smirk at her.
“Ye like what ye see?”
“That’s nae going to fit inside me,” she said flatly, and Fergus could not help but chuckle.
“It will, lass. Ye stretch more than ye think. How do ye think women have babies?”
“I… I suppose ye’re right,” she said, flushing, and Fergus went back to his task, teasing one of her nipples with one hand before pressing two fingers inside her.
He stretched her out, plunging them deeper as she whimpered out his name. He could feel her fluttering around his fingers, knew she was close, and he kept moving his fingers in and out of her, even as she reached up to wrap her hand around his manhood.
He hissed out a breath and looked down at her with dark eyes.
“Ye daenae ken what ye’re askin’ of me, mouse.”
“I want ye to make love to me,” she begged, stroking his manhood to full girth, and he grunted, thrusting into her hand.
“Ye daenae have to ask me twice,” Fergus muttered and put his hand over hers on his manhood. For a few strokes, he guided her, letting her pump her fist, tightening her grip, but then his bollocks started to draw up, and he moved her hand away.
He did not want to spill into her hand like a teenager.
He guided himself inside of her, slowly pressing just the head into her tight entrance. He had loosened her up a bit with his fingers, but she still clamped around him as he slowly pushed inside.
“Oh, oh, Fergus, it’s too much—” she started, and he froze, trembling all over with the effort it took to hold back.
“Ye’re all right,” he told her softly. “Just look at me, little mouse. It might hurt for just a moment, but I promise I will make ye feel good again, aye?”
She looked up at him with those wide brown doe eyes of hers, the eyes he had fallen in love with instantly, and nodded, clutching onto his shoulders.
He rolled his hips slowly, pressing into her, stretching her out. As he pressed ever deeper, he heard her cry out and felt her nails digging into his shoulders.
He had taken her virginity. Made her his and his alone. He was the only man to be with her like this. He was her first and her last. He looked down at himself pumping slowly in and out of her. He gritted his teeth, trying not to thrust forward hard and fast the way his body wanted him to.
“Oh, it hurts,” she whimpered, and he slowed, leaning down to kiss her as he tugged at one of her peaked nipples.
“Does it still hurt, lass?” he asked, holding back, stilling, and she started to rock her hips.
“A wee bit,” she admitted. “But it feels good, too. Want more.”
Fergus groaned, thrusting into her just a little faster, and Jeane started to whimper.
There was no sound so sweet in the entire world.
Jeane could not quite understand what she was feeling. Having Fergus inside of her, stretching her, made her feel like her body was vibrating.
She whined as he started to move his hips faster, her breath catching in her throat.
“Fergus,” she gasped, and he grunted in response before speaking.
“Aye, little mouse?”
