With a sigh, he cradled her cheek to pull her closer and kiss her soft lips. It was only meant to be a quick peck, but Freya clung to him, holding him close as she deepened the kiss, much to James’ surprise.
Still, he gave her what she wanted, licking the seam of her lips and letting his tongue slip past them. When she moaned, he let out a soft chuckle, pulling back to look at her.
“What is this, lass?”
Blood rushed to Freya’s face, turning her cheeks a pretty pink as she shrugged, trying—and failing—to look nonchalant. “Naething,” she said. “I just wish tae feel ye close tae me.”
“Is that so?” James teased, thinking this was his opportunity to lighten the mood. He let his gaze roam over her body, now calm enough to appreciate for the first time that night just how good she looked. “Ye ken… it’s such a shame that ye never made it tae the feast. I’m sure ye would have enchanted everyone.”
Freya’s blush deepened, cheeks turning crimson under his attention. “Well… I dinnae care about enchanting everyone else. I only care about enchanting ye.”
“Ye did that a long time ago,” James said as he let his hand roam down her body—over her shoulder, down the swell of her breasts, following the curve of her waist. Freya arched into the touch, lips falling open as she gasped. “But I dae wish I could have shown everyone how pretty me lass is.”
“Am I yer lass?” Freya asked with a small smirk, her fingers pressing against his stomach.
“Are ye nae?” James teased, leaning in for another kiss.
Even now, his intentions were pure, as he wanted Freya to rest and doubted that she would want anything more than this simple affection. He was ready to pull back once more, but before he could, Freya slung her leg over his hip, pressing against his thigh with a soft moan.
“Freya… shouldnae ye rest?” he asked, running a hand through her hair where it had fallen out of her updo.
“I’m fine,” she mumbled against his lips, chasing them for another kiss. “Please… I want ye.”
And how could James refuse such a sweet request?
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
After everything Freya had been through that evening, the only thing that seemed to calm her was knowing that James was right there with her. She craved the safety of his arms, the reassurance of his presence. She craved his warmth, the tenderness of his touch.
She didn’t want to rest; she only wanted to feel him even closer and forget about everything that had happened that night, if only for a short while. She wanted to lose herself in pleasure, to erase everything else.
Even as she assured James she was fine, though, and even as he kissed her and began to tug at her dress, he was being far too gentle, as if he feared his mere touch would break her. Impatiently, Freya reached for the laces that held her dress together and pulled at them, blindly trying to loosen them and remove her garments as fast as possible. At her efforts, James chuckled against her lips, his hand finding hers to stop her.
“Easy, lass,” he said. “Just… relax. Let me take care of ye.”
With a sigh, Freya let James roll her onto her stomach on the bed, trying her best to relax under the kisses he pressed on the crook of her neck. With deft fingers, he began to undo her dress little by little, until he could finally pull it open, his hands massaging up the length of her back and moving under her body to cradle her breasts. Freya couldn’t help but melt into the touch, especially when a gentle rock of James’ hips against her still-clothed rear had her dress moving, exposing the swell of her breasts, James’ fingers brushing against her hardened nipples.
Her core throbbed with need. Every touch was like a flame against her skin, every breath James took melodic in her ears. For a moment, she felt James retreat, but when she glanced at him over her shoulder, he only removed his shirt before descending upon her once more, kissing her exposed back.
“Can ye feel what ye do to me?” he asked her in a low, honeyed voice, and Freya could, indeed. She could feel his hardened manhood against her buttocks as James rocked slowly into her, and she could only wish there were no garments between them. “The mere sight of ye is enough to drive me mad.”
When James slid his hand up her arm, covering her to lace their fingers together, Freya held onto him tightly, hips arching against him to draw a moan out of his lips. Desire pooled deep in her core like liquid fire, her breath coming in short puffs as James’ other hand slid down her spine, fingers tracing the bumps and divots of it until he reached her buttocks through the opening of her dress, and then between her legs, where she needed him the most. His fingers circled her entrance, gathering the moisture that had already soaked her folds and bringing it up her seam to circle that sensitive spot on her mound.
That first touch sent a sharp sensation of pleasure through Freya, like it always did. Nothing could compare to the touch of James’ hands, to the brush of his lips or the feel of his solid heat against her. Anything else paled in comparison—those few times she had touched herself in the past, seeking some relief, had been rushed and meant only to serve a need. Never before had she taken her time like James liked to do, driving her mad with lust until she could hardly bear the anticipation.
Soon, he dragged those clever fingers towards her opening once more, swiftly plunging two of them inside her. Just like that, all the air was pushed out of her lungs, her breath cut short and all thoughts dissolving from her mind. There was nothing but the slow, tender drag of James’ fingers against her walls, which clenched tightly around him with every thrust.
With every movement of his hand, Freya could feel her opening getting slicker, the muscles relaxing under his ministrations. Rocking her hips back, she took him deeper and deeper, seeking that mind-bending sensation that came with him brushing against that particularly sensitive spot inside her. Once he found it, pressing down hard against it, Freya keened and bucked under him, unable to control herself. She wanted him deeper, wanted to feel him fill her up entirely and make her forget everything that had happened to her that night.
She wanted some reassurance that, no matter what, he would be by her side.
“Please,” she whispered as she pushed herself up to her elbows, her breasts spilling out of her dress entirely, the swell of themswaying as she rocked back onto his hand. His other hand, still wrapped tightly around her own, gave her fingers a gentle squeeze before letting go to paw at her dress until Freya was entirely nude, trembling with need over James’ covers.
The moment he had discarded her dress, he returned to her body, pulling her hips up to drag his tongue over her folds. Freya’s knees almost buckled underneath her, the pleasure so intense that it was almost overwhelming. When he spread her with his thumbs and tongue, letting it delve inside her, she keened and spasmed around him. The mere position itself was enough to make her cheeks burn with embarrassment, but the pleasure was so strong, her desire for him so unbridled that she couldn’t bring herself to complain—not when it felt so good.
James’ hands were like a vice on her hips, fingers digging into her flesh. Freya’s own fingers curled around the edge of his pillow, holding on for dear life as he feasted on her, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. When his tongue found that sensitive spot and began to circle it, Freya’s eyes fell shut, pleasure exploding through her body and fireworks behind her eyelids.
“Please… please, dinnae stop,” she said, and she couldn’t stop herself from rocking back into him once more, searching more and more stimulation. Behind her, James moaned as though pleasuring her gave him plenty of pleasure, too, and when Freya glanced at him over her shoulder, she found him palming himself with a hand as he tried to get some relief.
