She moaned.
Her body molded itself against his. She drew him down to her, and her arms locked behind his neck. He moved against her, his passion hard and raging. In one deft movement, he drew the nightdress down, exposing her breasts to the chill night air.
That made her gasp. She pulled away in a moment of uncertainty. Her hands came up to cover her breasts, but they were not big enough to keep her ample bosom away from his view. He saw peeks of creamy white skin, and, between the fingers of her right hand, her rosy nipple peeked through. He closed the space between them, his gaze on steadily on her face. Without looking away, he gently pried her hands from her breasts. He placed them at her sides and then replaced them with his hands. They kneaded, remolded, plumped.
All while looking deeply into her eyes.
She stared at him, her lips slightly parted, in shock or pleasure, or a little of both.
He pinched her nipples.
She gasped, the sound loud in the still room.
He applied more pressure, and when she could not take it any longer, when her knees turned to water, he backed her against the bed until she fell back on it. He followed her down and covered her mouth with kisses. Her hands sought his of their own volition. They sought to return them to their place on her breasts, but he had a better idea. He bent down and took one nipple in his mouth. She made a keening sound and twisted under him. He placed a soothing hand on her hip. And then he looked up at her face. Her lips were plump with his kisses. She was quite flushed. “Are ye alright?” he asked.
She shook her head and his eyebrow furrowed. “Are ye hurt?”
“No,” she said. “You have not given the other one your attention.”
It took a moment for him to realize her meaning, but when he did, he grinned and attacked her breast with a savage ferocity. She mewled and held his head in place with one hand. The other ran down his back in continuous motions. He pulled away from her and brought his shirt over his head. He flung it away and met her eyes.
Her hands were hesitant at first. They hovered over his chest, but then they started to touch, to explore, to feel. He was all muscle. With her index finger, she traced the scar that ran from his right shoulder to the left side of his belly. She touched his navel and brought her hand up so she could test the texture of his shoulders.
Raw muscle. Her hand explored upward: his neck, his chin, his cheek. She placed her finger on his lip and he opened his mouth so that it slipped inside. His eyes on hers, he sucked on her finger just as he had laved her nipples only seconds ago. It was deeply more erotic than everything he had done until this point. She couldn’t quite explain it. A moan escaped her lips. He took her hand, still wet from his mouth, and placed it against her breast.
“Pinch,” he ordered, and she obeyed. He rewarded her with a slow, sucking kiss. When he pulled away, she looked like someone drugged.
“Alistair,” she moaned. “Oh, Alistair.”
Alistair looked at her nightgown in contemplation. The top part of it was bunched underneath her breast, and its entire length stopped mid-thigh. He looked at her meaningfully, as if to ascertain her sureness.
She nodded.
He joined her on the bed and held her just like he had done in the cave. Only, this time, one hand went around her belly, holding her in place, while the other traveled up her leg. “Dae ye ken, lass,” he rasped in her ear, “that I wanted tae dae this as we lay together in the cave the other day?”
Her reply was a ragged sight, for he had found her center. He kissed her ear, drew on the lobe, sucked at it, as his thumb flicked her bud.
She screamed.
“Quiet,” he ordered, his voice a low rumble in her ear, “or you’ll wake the entire castle up.”
She bit her lip and nodded, and he continued his ministrations.
But how did he expect her to keep still, when he was tugging at her core, when he appeared as though he was calling out her soul? How could she keep still when she felt as though she was racing towards the end of the earth with no one to pull her back?
She made low, keening noises, noises that she could not keep in. His thumb’s movements became faster, more urgent. It was pleasure so acute, it was almost pain.
It was too much.
She burst into tears.
His mouth captured hers, tasting her tears, her pleasure.
When she reached her peak, her legs clamped against his hand. She shuddered multiple times. His free hand ran over her belly in soothing motions. Her thighs parted and he retrieved his hand. She turned to him, limp as a rag, her body flushed.
He looked at her as though she were the most beautiful thing in the world.
“Alistair,” she breathed, finally. “Alistair, I want you to… I want… What I mean to say is...”
