“Nae,” he said. He closed the distance between them in two steps. “Nae, I want to undress ye the rest of the way.”
And then he drew off her chemise and untied the drawstring of her petticoat and let it fall to the floor.
He stepped backward.
She was before him, naked. For him, she was everything feminine and nubile. Her round breasts. Her small waist that flared to her round bottom and curved hips and soft thighs. Her cleft covered in golden maidenhair.
He burned, he throbbed, he was consumed by a wave of passion so strong he wanted to take her on the floor of the room.
“Arabella,” he said. “Ye are beautiful.”
“Hold me, Alasdair.” Her voice was husky.
He reached for her even as she stepped up to him so that their bodies collided with an unintended force and his cock, already so hard from his looking at her body, was pinned between them and he knew she could feel how much he wanted her. His hands quickly found the cheeks of her bottom and seized them and his lips found hers and he ravished her mouth with his tongue, even as he was desperate to be inside her in other ways.
She untucked his shirt from the back, undid his cravat, doing anything she could to undress him while still keeping her body pressed against his.
“I must,” he panted, moving his mouth off hers, “get ye on the bed.”
But she was past listening and wilder than she had ever been with him before. She pushed herself off him and undid his fall. She pulled his trousers down, brushing her breasts against his cock as she did so. He congratulated himself on his wisdom of having taken off his boots before she had returned to the room. He kicked off the trousers around his ankles and she undid his waistcoat and he pulled off his shirt. Now they were touching skin against skin everywhere. She grabbed his cock and straddled his thigh, rubbing herself there, groaning. He could feel she was wet on his leg.
He also groaned and said, “Let go.” Arabella released him, and he picked her up and finally got her on the bed where he wanted her.
“Come to me, Alasdair. I want you.”
He stood by the bed and looked at her again as she lay on the bed coverings, up on her elbows, her chest heaving with deep breaths, her face flushed, her breasts creamy white except for the small, pink peaks, her knees up and bent and slightly apart so that he could see the glisten of her folds among her golden maidenhair.
“Aye,” he panted.
But he did not join her in the bed as she clearly expected.
“I want to pleasure ye,” he said.
“You will.” She lay back and held out her arms.
“Nae. I want to pleasure ye and only ye. Ye have made me spend once in a carriage. Ye have made yerself spend once in front of me. I have spent in the sheets seventeen times after being inside ye. I have made ye climax with either my hand or with my cock seventeen times.”
She laughed. “I didn’t know you were counting!”
“It seems to me that the score stands at nineteen to seventeen with ye in the lead and ’tis my turn to make someone spend. And since I feel I have lived well over half my life making myself spend, I would rather it be ye. I want to kiss ye.”
“Then come and kiss me.”
His cock twitched.
“Nae. I want to kiss ye where ye spend.”
Arabella sat up.
“You do?”
“Aye.”
“How do you know about this, Alasdair?”
“Remember how I told ye that I would listen?”
“Yes.”
