She groaned his name.
Ailean began to suck slowly and deeply. When he’d given one breast his thorough attention, he moved to the other one, sucking until she groaned beneath him.
Finally, when she was starting to pant and tremble, he moved farther down her body, over her belly, to the nest of dark-golden curls between her thighs. He stroked her there with his knuckles, his pulse quickening as she opened for him.
Breathing harshly now as he fought to keep his self-control leashed, he slid her legs over his shoulders and parted her wider still.
“Please,” she whimpered. “Touch me.”
He lowered himself between her spread thighs. He’d planned to go slowly here too, and draw out her pleasure once again, but the sight of her sex bared for him made him snap.
Growling, he plowed her with his tongue.
Fiona gave a throaty cry, lifting her hips off the pallet. “Oh God … Ailean!”
He didn’t reply. He was too busy. Too hungry for her. Too desperate to taste her.
Within moments, she shattered against his mouth.
Breathing hard, he rose from between her thighs. She stared up at him, sweat glistening on her forehead, her face flushed from the force of her peak. “Ye wicked man,” she teased huskily.
“Aye.” His lips curved. “And that’s not the end of my wickedness.”
“Really?” Pushing herself up, she reached for him, one small hand curling around him. “Maybe it’s time I was wicked too.”
She gave a soft groan as she touched him that made him bite down on his lower lip. Christ—if she continued to make sounds like that, he’d spill here and now. But he wanted to be buried deep inside her when he came.
“Yer prick is scalding hot,” she murmured, her expression rapt as she gazed down at its glistening crown.
Ailean muttered something under his breath—curse or plea, he didn’t know. He was too far gone. All he could focus on was the firm pressure of her fingers sliding up and down his shaft. When she bent her head and licked the tip, heat gathered at the base of his spine. And then, the firm, soft suction of her mouth on his rod made his eyelids flutter.
“Fiona—” His body trembled as he pushed her back gently but firmly onto the sheepskins, spread her thighs wide, and thrust into her in one movement.
She gasped his name in answer.
In the past, he’d liked to watch their bodies meet as he swived her. It was erotic, and he’d enjoyed feeling in control. But tonight, he didn’t want to observe; he wanted to lose himself with this woman.
He lay over her, holding himself up on his elbows so he didn’t crush her, his mouth finding hers as he rolled his hips and beganto move inside her in teasing strokes. He had to take it slow. He was on the edge now.
Bracing on one elbow, he reached up, taking her hand and entwining his fingers in hers. He then pressed it into the sheepskin as he continued to ride her.
And as they moved together, he stared deep into her eyes. “Mo ghràdh,” he whispered.My love.
In answer, she sighed his name.
Their lips found each other once more, urgent and fevered now. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, mimicking each smooth glide inside her.
Fiona wrapped her legs around him, urging him on. Her heels dug into his arse. Her breathing turned ragged. She arched up, grinding herself against him as if she could never draw him deep enough. He felt her slick heat clutch around him.
It was too much.
Bracing himself, he drove into her again and again until his vision dimmed and he let himself go.
Fiona watched the sun rise over the water.
She and Ailean stood together leaning against the well, both wrapped in sheepskins and wearing nothing else but boots on their feet. They’d slept little during the night, yet she wasn’t tired. Indeed, she’d never felt more alive, more at peace with herself and the world around her. Never had a dawn looked so beautiful.
The sky turned from indigo to gold, delicate ribbons of rose unfurling. Frost glittered around them, and their breath steamed in the sharp air, but Fiona hardly felt the cold.
