"Ye're tense," Alpin murmured, his lips grazing the shell of her ear. His voice was low, rough, the burr of his accent wrapping around the words like a caress. "Dinnae be."
Mhairi swallowed, her throat dry.
"I'm nae," she lied, but her body betrayed her, leaning into him despite herself.
His hands slid upward, skimming the sides of her ribs, his touch featherlight before his palms cupped her breasts through the fabric.
She gasped as his thumbs circled her nipples, already stiff and aching, the sensation sharp and sweet. His manhood twitched against her, thickening further, and she couldn't help the way her hips rolled back, seeking more friction.
Alpin groaned, a deep, guttural sound, and spun her around.
His hands cradled her face, his calloused fingers rough against her soft skin, and then his mouth was on hers. The kiss was nothing like the stolen, chaste ones they'd shared other times, it was hunger, it was need.
His tongue parted her lips, sweeping inside with a possessive stroke that had her melting against him.
Mhairi clutched at his shoulders, her fingers digging into the thick muscle beneath his shirt, her nails scraping through the linen. He tasted like whisky and smoke, intoxicating, and she moaned into his mouth, her body arching into his.
He broke the kiss just long enough to tug at the brooch holding her plaid in place. The heavy wool slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her feet with a whisper.
His hands were already at the laces of her chemise, his fingers deft as he loosened the ties. The thin fabric slithered down her body, leaving her bare before him. The cool air of the chamber raised gooseflesh on her skin, but the heat in Alpin's gaze more than made up for it.
His breath hitched as he took her in, the swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the little dark curl of hair between her thighs.
"Fuck," he breathed, his voice thick. "Ye're perfect."
Mhairi's cheeks burned, but she didn't look away.
She watched as he stripped off his own clothes, his movements quick and impatient.
His leine hit the floor first, followed by his belt, his boots kicked aside. When he straightened, he was naked, his manhood standing thick and heavy between his legs, the head flushed dark with arousal.
A bead of precum glistened at the tip, and Mhairi's mouth watered. She'd never seen a man like that, and the sight of him, all hard muscle and raw desire, made her thighs clench.
Alpin stepped closer, his hands finding her waist again, his touch searing.
He kissed her, this time with a slow, deliberate hunger, his lips trailing down her jaw, her throat, the sensitive hollow at the base of her neck. Mhairi tilted her head back, a whimper escaping her as his teeth grazed her collarbone.
His hands roamed her body, mapping her curves, his palms rough and warm against her skin. When his fingers brushed the damp heat between her thighs, she jerked, her breath coming in sharp gasps.
"Alpin," she whispered, her voice trembling.
He stilled, his breath hot against her skin. "Say it again," he demanded, his voice a growl.
"Alpin," she repeated, more urgent now, her hips rolling against his hand. "Please?—"
He didn't make her beg.
His mouth crashed onto hers once more, his kiss bruising, before he lifted her effortlessly, guiding her toward the bed.
The furs were soft beneath her back, but it was the weight of him settling between her thighs that grounded her.
His manhood pressed against her entrance, thick and insistent, and Mhairi's breath caught. She'd never done anything like it before—no man had ever touched her before Alpin, let alone been inside her—and the stretch burned, but it was a good burn, a right burn.
Alpin must have seen the hesitation in her eyes. He paused, his forehead pressed to hers, his manhood poised at her slickopening. "Tell me tae stop," he murmured, his voice strained. "Tell me now, Mhairi, and I will."
She shook her head, her fingers tightening in his hair. "Dinnae stop."
He groaned, low and rough, and pushed inside her in one slow, relentless thrust.
