“I daenae care,” she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders.
“Aye, ye do.” His hand cupped her breast, kneading it roughly through the fabric. “Ye’ll care tomorrow when they look at ye and ken exactly what happened in these woods.”
He was right, damn him. But it was hard to think about tomorrow when his thumb was circling her nipple, when pleasure was spiking through her with every deliberate touch.
His mouth left hers to trail down her throat, teeth scraping over sensitive skin. He found the pulse point at the base of her neck and sucked, hard enough to leave a mark.
“Murdock!” She tried to push him away, horrified. “That’ll bruise!”
“Good.” His voice was dark, possessive. “Let them see. Let every man at that festival ken ye’re taken.”
Before she could protest, his hand left her breast to grip her thigh again, hitching it around his hip.
“I need to touch ye,” he said roughly, his hand finding her thigh. “Need to feel ye. Will ye let me, lass?”
Leona knew she should say no. Should stop this before it went too far. But her body was screaming yes, her core aching with a need she didn’t fully understand.
“Aye,” she whispered. “Please.”
His hand bunched her skirts higher, past her stockings, past her garters, finding the damp fabric between her legs. They both shuddered at the contact.
“Hell,” Murdock breathed, his fingers stroking her through the thin material. “Ye’re soaked for me.”
Leona whimpered, her hips rolling forward, seeking more pressure. More friction. More of whatever this was that felt so devastatingly good.
“Easy,” he soothed, though his own breathing was ragged. “I’ll take care of ye. I promise.”
His fingers found the edge of her undergarments, and then, oh God, he was touching bare skin. The sensation was overwhelming, pleasure so acute it bordered on pain.
“Murdock,” she gasped, her head falling back against the tree. “I daenae… I’ve never…”
“I ken.” His mouth found her throat again, kissing, sucking, marking. “I’ll go slow. I’ll make it good for ye.”
His fingers explored her with devastating thoroughness, learning what made her gasp, what made her moan, what made her hips buck against his hand. He found a spot that made her cry out, and he focused on it, circling with maddening precision.
Leona bit her lip, trying to stifle the sounds building in her throat. But it was impossible. Every stroke of his fingers sent lightning through her veins, building toward something she couldn’t name but desperately needed.
Then his fingers moved lower, and she felt him teasing her entrance. The sensation was foreign, slightly uncomfortable, and she tensed.
“Easy,” Murdock soothed, his mouth finding hers in a gentle kiss. “Relax for me. Let me make ye feel good.”
He slid one finger inside her, and the fullness made her gasp. It didn’t hurt, but it was strange. Different.
“Breathe, lass,” he instructed, his thumb still circling that spot that made her see stars. “Just breathe and let yer body adjust.”
He moved slowly, carefully, giving her time to accommodate the intrusion. And then he was stroking inside her, finding a rhythm that made her hips move of their own accord.
“That’s it,” he praised, his voice rough with arousal. “That’s me good lass. Ye’re doing so well.”
The combination of his thumb on that sensitive bundle of nerves and his finger inside her was too much. Pleasure built and built, coiling tighter in her belly until she thought she might shatter from it.
“Murdock,” she whimpered, her nails digging into his shoulders. “Something’s… I feel…”
“I ken.” He added a second finger, stretching her, and the fullness made her cry out. “Let go, Leona. I’ve got ye. Let go.”
His thumb pressed harder, his fingers curled inside her, and the world exploded.
Pleasure crashed over her in waves so intense she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but shake and gasp as her body came apart. Her core clenched around his fingers, pulsing with release, and she buried her face in his shoulder to muffle her cries.
