She opens her mouth to protest, but no sounds emerge.Well, except for her wee gasps.I can tell she desperately needs to let go.So I push her over the edge with a growl that emanates from somewhere deep in my chest in a register I never knew I could achieve."Come for me now, Gretchen.Right now."
I thrust hard and deep, grinding into her at just the right angle.Her eyes fly open, locking with mine as her entire body freezes beneath me for a split second.Then she's blowing apart, her walls clenching around me in rhythmic waves as she screams my name.It's the most glorious thing I've ever heard, and it pushes me closer to my own release.
"Tha mi a'bualadh do craigeann, lass."I watch as the pleasure overtakes her."Give it all to me, Gretchen."
She's still pulsating around me when own control slips and then shatters.The tight heat of her, the way she looks at me with such intense desire, it's too much.My rhythm falters as the pressure builds at the base of my spine.
"Kirk..."She whispers my name with such reverence it nearly undoes me."Don't stop."
I couldn't stop now if my life depended on it.Every muscle in my body is taut with the effort of holding back my release, wishing I could prolong this perfect moment.Her body beneath mine, slick with sweat, her hair wild around her face...It's the most beautiful sight I've ever seen.
"Never," I promise, my voice barely recognizable to my own ears."Never stopping,mo chridhe."
I jackhammer into her over and over, losing myself in her slick heat, in her scent, in the wee sounds she makes when I hit the perfect spot.The pressure building inside me as become unbearable, like a storm gathering force until it can no longer be contained.
When her thighs tighten around me, urging me deeper, I know I'm done for.The orgasm hits me like a lightning strike, pleasure so intense it feels like floods into every fiber of my being.I empty myself inside her with a roar that seems to shake the very walls around us, though that's rubbish, for certain.My hips keep moving of their own accord, drawing out the pleasure for both of us until I'm spent, collapsing beside her with my arm draped possessively over her waist.
For several minutes, neither of us speaks.The only sound in the room is our ragged breathing that's gradually returning to normal.I turn my head to look at the lass, taking in her flushed cheeks and swollen lips, feeling a surge of male pride knowing I put that satisfied, dreamy look on her face.When she finally opens her eyes, I see something there that makes my heart stutter in my chest, something that goes far beyond mere physical satisfaction.
I cradle her in my arms, the lass lying on top of me now, and caress her gently."After that marathon shag, I think we need to eat---something savory, something sweet, or whatever ye like."
"Mm, I am famished.Hot sex takes a lot out of a girl."
For a few minutes, we simply revel in the blissful afterglow.But I offered her food, and a Balfour man never reneges on a vow.So, I sweep her up in my arms and traipse through the living room into the kitchen.Gretchen insists I set her feet on the floor, but I that reluctantly.
"What should we snack on?"I ask."Why dinnae you choose?"
"Okay."She sweeps her gaze over me from head to toe."How's your shoulder?I shouldn't have let you screw me like a maniac."
"My shoulder is fine."
Despite my statement, the lass insists on picking out our foods herself while I lean against the wall observing her.She even drags a stool out, waving for me to sit on it.At least she's allowing me to be nearby, instead of in the corner.
I watch with amusement as she moves about the kitchen, her naked body a sight to behold.It takes every ounce of my willpower not to reach out and pull her against me.
"You're distracting me," she says, catching me staring as she stretches to reach something in the cupboard.
"Cannae help it, lass.You are a vision."My voice is still rough from our lovemaking, and I feel no shame in admiring every curve and dip of her body."If ye insist on prancing about in the buff, ye must expect a man to look."
She tosses me a playful glare over her shoulder."I'm not prancing.I'm foraging."
"Is that what they call it in Tennessee?"
Her laughter fills the kitchen, and something in my chest tightens at the sound.I wonder why it feels so bloody good just to hear her laughter.I've known the lass for such a short time, yet she's burrowed under my skin like no other woman ever has.
"They call it 'being resourceful,'" she corrects me, pulling out cheese, crackers, and some fruit from the fridge.
"Ah, of course."I shift on the stool, my shoulder giving me a twinge that I refuse to acknowledge."In Scotland we call it the same thing.Now, will ye let me help ye with that platter?"
She shoots me a sarcastic warning look."Sit.Stay.Good Scotsman."
I smirk."I'm not yer bloody retriever, Gretchen."
By the time she's done, we have a tasty snack to share that includes a variety of local cheeses, some crusty bread, sliced apples, and a small bowl of strawberries.My mouth waters at the sight---or maybe it's the sight of her nude body that's making me salivate.
"There," she says proudly, setting the platter down on the coffee table in the living room."Now we can eat like civilized people."
"Civilized?"I chuckle, following her while holding two glasses of water."After what we just did, I'm not sure that word applies to either of us."
