Hell, if he’d known how much fun it would be to have someone watching him, he would have done this a long time ago.
Anticipation built inside him. He was tempted to drag it out longer, but he couldn’t wait to see how she reacted to what he was going to do next. She was going to like this. Nearly as much as Lady Moira did.
He buried himself full hilt, reached down between Lady Moira’s legs, and stroked her until she started to come. She cried out her pleasure in a soft, keening wail.
But he kept his gaze on the wicked, wee interloper the entire time. He watched her face soften, her lips part, and her eyes fill with such naked longing he would have given anything at that moment to be the one to give her the pleasure she craved.
Jesus. His stomach muscles clenched, fighting against the jolt of lust. He hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected it to affect him so much. But watching the sensual awakening on her face, the combination of shock and desire—unwilling desire—was one of the most erotic things he’d ever beheld.
He was no longer in doubt that he would be able to come.
Who would have ever thought that beneath such a dull, listless exterior lay the dormant passion of a wanton?
The lass was completely unaware of what she was doing to him. But he wanted her to know. He wanted her to look at him.
Finally, she did.
At first he’d been annoyed by Lady Moira’s request to take off his shirt, feeling a little bit like a stallion at market. But he was glad for it now. Glad he could see the open admiration and innocent hunger as the woman’s gaze roamed every inch of his bare skin.
Aye, she wanted him. But what surprised him was that he also wanted her. How he wished it was her that he was buried deep inside of right now.
When their eyes met, he let her see exactly what he was thinking. Her eyes looked huge behind the two pieces of glass, and they widened even farther when she felt the force of his lust. It wrapped around them, coiling, tightening, drawing them together as if there were no one else in the world.
His blood was pounding hard now. He could feel the sensations gathering at the base of his spine and knew he wasn’t going to be able to last much longer.
Without thinking about what he was doing, but knowing that he didn’t want anything—or anyone—between them, he pulled out of the woman beneath him and fisted his hand around himself. Holding the other woman’s gaze, he started to stroke himself. He imagined it was her gripping him. Her tight, wet heat pulling him over the edge. The eager expression on her face made it easy.
He groaned, his hand quickening the pace. Every muscle in his body clenched with anticipation. He could feel it. Almost…
Her eyes hadn’t left his, but he knew she’d guessed what he was doing because her mouth opened in shock. A perfect little O.
Her breath hitched in a shocked gasp, and the erotic sound sent him over. His arse clenched. He let out a deep groan, jerking his pleasure in deep pulsing streams.
When he was done, their eyes met in one long, hot moment of primal awareness. He could almost feel the frantic beat of her heart against his and hear the quickening of her breath in his ear. He would have given nearly everything at that moment to touch her. To slide his hand between her thighs and feel the warmth and dampness that he knew he would find there. How many strokes would it take to push her over?
But the spell was broken by Lady Moira. “That was amazing. I’m glad to say this is one time the rumors were not exaggerated. You’re every bit as spectacular as they say with that long sword of yours.”
Kenneth felt a prick of annoyance that was no doubt unwarranted. He didn’t expect more from her than swiving, so why would he expect a more interesting comment than a reference to the size of his cock?
Lady Moira had collapsed in a well-sated heap on the hay-strewn floor when he’d released her, but she’d revived enough to put herself in a slightly more elegant position on her back.
He’d forgotten all about her. Apparently, as had their interloper. He just caught the edge of her horror-stricken expression before she turned and fled out of the barn, the Devil nipping at her heels.
He let her go. But part of him actually wanted to go after her.
Lady Moira sat up. “Did you hear something?”
He shook his head and reached for his shirt, wondering what the hell was the matter with him. “It was one of the horses. You’d better fix your clothes. The lads will be returning soon.”
The lady babbled platitudes for another quarter hour while he helped her with her hair and gown before he could finally escort her out of the stables. His mind was on the other woman. Who was she? And more incredibly, why the hell did he care?
He’d never done anything like that before in his life, and he wasn’t quite sure what had provoked him to such wickedness. He didn’t usually find himself turned on by prim little wrens. But something about her reaction—the innocent arousal and not-so-innocent hunger—had fired his blood in a way that defied explanation, turning something that should have been forgettable into something…different. Memorable.
What had started out as a taunting game had taken an unexpected turn, leaving him vaguely unsettled. He’d gone too far, and he knew it. But he hadn’t forced her to stand there and watch. And he sure as hell hadn’t expected either of them to enjoy it so much.
The lass intrigued him. But all his focus right now was on earning a place in Bruce’s secret army. A lass, no matter how intriguing, wasn’t going to distract him.
Four
