The hard pad of his finger found the taut tip of her nipple, circling it through the thin linen of her chemise. She gasped in surprise when his mouth replaced his finger. The soft wet warmth of his kiss sent shards of pleasure straight from her breast to between her legs. God, it was incredible! The sensations were like a burst of warm pleasure showering over her in an effervescent rain. But when he sucked the tight bud, drawing it gently between his teeth, her gasp became a deep moan.
He chuckled against her. “This,” he answered, “is the only thing I want to think about.” He sucked her again, circling his tongue over the throbbing tip. “I want to suck your lovely nipples in my mouth until your body weeps with desire.” He drew his fingers down the flat of her stomach and cupped her mound gently in his big, strong hand. No hesitation. All raw sexual energy. The possessive gesture filled her with an acute sense of destiny—as if this was meant to be. “I want to touch you here,” his finger swept the seam of her womanhood through the cloth, “and make you wet until you are ready for me.” Her body answered with a rush of heat and dampness in the very place he had stroked. “And then,” he leaned his head over to kiss her neck, whispering in her ear, “and then I want to be inside you and make you come apart.” She arched and twisted at his wicked words, shivering as his tongue and lips found the sensitive part of her neck below her ear.
He lifted his head to look into her eyes. The handsome, hard angles of his face looked even more dangerous in the shadows. “Does that frighten you?”
She shook her head. “Nay.” The fear had fled the moment he’d touched her. Her heart was fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird as she struggled to find the words. “I want that, too. I like how it feels when you touch me.”
He stilled. She swore she could feel his gaze grow hotter, more intense. She blushed, wondering if she’d said something wrong. But then he was touching her again and she forgot everything but the pressure of his mouth on her breast and the hot friction of his hands covering her body.
Tor had to keep reminding himself that the passionate woman writhing in his bed was essentially a virgin. But when she moaned and arched under his mouth and hands, silently begging him to kiss her breasts harder, it was all too easy to forget.
His naughty talk to distract her from her questions had worked—he’d been outside because a few of the men had arrived early, necessitating a midnight trip to the broch—but it was she who’d had the last laugh when her response had distracted him.“I like how it feels when you touch me.”Christ, how could he not react to that?
The innocent honesty of her words only increased his hunger for her. Part of him had wondered whether he’d only imagined her responsiveness that night. He hadn’t. If anything, he’d underestimated its sensual allure.
Virgin, he reminded himself, trying to slow down the pounding in his blood, the primitive call he longed to answer.
He’d wanted to bed her since the first time he’d laid eyes on her. But he swore after his rough handling during their first encounter that he would make it good for her. Very good. Slow and gentle. Hot but controlled.
This was what he understood. In the darkness. Man to woman. Nothing but passion—primitive and raw. He knew how to make a woman ache for his touch. How to make her moan. How to make her weak with pleasure. He knew what she needed and would give it to her. And in return she would give it to him. Nothing more. Nothing less. Base needs satisfied.
In bed, Christina Fraser was no different than any other woman. His need for her was hotter. More intense, perhaps. But lust was lust, and nothing he couldn’t control.
He was a passionate man. She was a passionate woman. It was as simple as that. Passion in the marriage bed was something to be grateful for—his first wife had not been so eager. It was nothing to concern him.
But he couldn’t stop staring at her mouth. Even in the darkness, the lush sensuality of her plump pink lips beckoned. He rebelled against the intimacy—kissing wasn’t something he usually thought about.
But he could taste the rest of her. He untied the opening of her chemise, no longer content to have a barrier between his lips and her skin. She smelled incredible. Warm and flowery. He inhaled deeply, her delicate scent enfolding him in its sweet embrace.
She cried out at the first touch of his mouth on her bare skin, and his already rock-hard erection grew even harder.
At the first tentative touch of her hands on his back he froze. The demanding press of her fingers, kneading the taut muscles of his upper arms and shoulders, made him feel like he was jumping out of his damned skin. She liked touching him. A sharp clench of desire clouded his vision for one mindless moment as lust spiked inside him.
Control. Forcing his blood to cool, he scooped her gorgeous breasts in his hands, holding them to his mouth, taking turns devouring each one. His cock pulsed hard against his stomach and he took relief, rubbing himself gently against her hip as he suckled, the gentle friction stoking the fires even higher.
I can do this. But he’d never felt so aroused in his life. Her innocent responses were more erotic than the experienced moves of the women he usually bedded.
He licked her nipple, the honey-sweet taste ambrosia on his tongue. His chin scraped against the sensitive skin as he kissed her harder. Sucking and swirling his tongue around the taut little point until her hips started lifting against him.
His hands were all over her body. He couldn’t stop touching her. Her skin was so soft, her body lush and sweetly feminine.
He groaned. God, she was incredible. So natural and free in her passion. But it was getting harder and harder to check his instincts, to ignore the hunger and craving burgeoning inside him. His body was on fire, his head pounding. Rationality became harder to find as the red haze of lust crashed over him.
His hands skimmed over her hips and down her legs to lift the edge of her chemise. He heard the short hitch of her breath as his fingers swept up the velvety softness of her inner thigh. Her fingers dug into his arms. She seemed suspended, poised for his touch.
The knowledge of how much she wanted this did something to him. Something that went beyond masculine satisfaction or pride. It filled him with a heavy warmth that reached down deep inside him and tugged. At that moment, nothing had ever felt more important than giving her pleasure.
But not yet. The only thing he wanted more than release was to make it last. He teased the moment out, feeling her body quiver as he caressed the baby-soft skin near her core with a feathery circle of his fingertips, drawing near, then pulling back. Accustoming her not only to his touch, but to her own desire. He wanted her to recognize what her body wanted. What it needed.
He mimicked the movements of his finger with his tongue on her breast. Flicking out to brush against her, then pausing, allowing the warmth of his breath to blow over the damp, sensitive tip.
She moaned and whimpered, each sound making it harder and harder for him to concentrate as blood pounded in every inch of his body.
Her skin was hot. He knew that if he could see her face, her cheeks would be flushed with pleasure, her wide, sensual lips parted erotically.
She was so damned aroused. Her body shook with it. God, she was going to come apart the first time he touched her. His cock pulsed, beading with anticipation. It took every ounce of his restraint not to wrap her legs around his hips and thrust up high inside her, letting the hot, tight fist of her body milk him to oblivion.
Every muscle flexed as he fought for control, his own release hovering too damned close to the edge. “Tell me what you want,” he said through clenched teeth, his finger caressing achingly close to her heat.
