“T-touch me more?” she pleaded, having lost all will to resist him, even if it did make her evil and wanton.
Fergus breathed out against the skin of her throat, and he started to bunch her skirts around her hips.
“What… what are ye—” she started, but he hummed in the back of his throat to silence her.
“Daenae worry, little mouse. I willnae take yer maidenhood. Nae yet, anyway.”
Yet. Did he plan on making love to her after they were married? Would it not just be a marriage of convenience to him? Just a way to help her?
Her thoughts were erased by Fergus’s hands sliding up her bare calves, under her skirts. No one had ever touched her there, andhis hands just kept going up, spreading up her thighs and then between her legs.
He slid his fingers along her womanhood, and she nearly screamed. She had not known she had wanted his fingers there until he did it. She threw back her head and moaned, so wet between her thighs that it was almost uncomfortable. She feared she would start to drip down her thighs.
His fingers slid across the bud at the top of her womanhood, and she gasped for breath. It was becoming difficult to draw in air. He slid them across the bud again and again, and she panted out harsh breaths, something building in her abdomen. Something she did not quite recognize. Something almost scary—what would happen? Would she simply explode?
Fergus groaned close to her ear, his face buried in her hair.
“So perfect,” he murmured. “So ready for me.”
Jeane could feel his manhood pressing against her hip, and a wild curiosity swept through her. She reached down to touch him, shocked by how hard and thick he felt beneath her palm.
Fergus growled, pulling away from her but keeping his fingers against her core, his fingertips sliding against this little bud that made her thighs tremble.
“Be patient, little mouse. If ye touch me like that, I cannae hold back.”
“Please,” she begged, but she was not sure what she was even pleading for until Fergus inserted one finger into her, just to the knuckle, his thumb making tiny circles on her bud.
“There ye go, lass. Let go, I’ve got ye. Hold on to me.”
She clutched at him, his tunic fisting in her hands, and he grunted, kissing her again. As his tongue slid across hers and his fingers kept working against her core, she fell apart, something snapping in her lower stomach, making her whole body heat up.
She froze, not sure what was happening, and Fergus let out a long breath against her neck, slowly lowering her to the ground.
Instead of stepping away, though, he kneeled in front of her, the strong laird on his knees between her thighs. It was almost too much. He fussed with her skirts, grunting and growling when they did not obey. Jeane let out a giggle that turned into a long moan when he pressed his face against her womanhood.
“Fergus!” she shouted.
He hummed against her core, the sound vibrating through her, and all the breath left her lungs.
“You taste so fine, little mouse. Like heaven,” he mumbled before going back to his task.
His tongue made a point on her bud, and Jeane clapped a hand over her mouth so that she would not cry out. Fergus silentlyreached up and tugged her hand down, keeping his tongue on her.
“I… I…” she stuttered as he kept lapping at her, something snapping again in her abdomen as she threw her head back. She banged it against the wall, but it did not hurt.
Fergus looped her knees around his shoulders, pinning her to the wall with his hands on her hips. He gave open-mouthed kisses to her womanhood, moaning muffled against her.
Jeane realized, almost terrified, that it was going to happen again. She was going to implode from the inside out for a second time.
“Fergus,” she breathed, and his mouth was relentless on her, his tongue dipping into her entrance before he latched around her bud.
He sucked in a breath, and she fell apart, writhing, rolling her hips to grind against his tongue.
At first, she did not think he would let up, but finally, he moved away, standing.
Jeane could not help but see the tent in his kilt. He adjusted himself so that his erection was hidden. She looked up into his eyes.
He looked down at her, his mouth parted, chin wet with her juices, and Jeane was speechless. He smiled at her, a half-smile but still more than he had shown other than a smirk or two.
