“I may have been a virgin up until four days ago, but sailors are prone to boasting loudly about their experiences with their wives and ... other women.”
He could see she was thinking. Her face showed she was not completely opposed to the idea.
“And afterward, can I kiss you where you spend, too?”
“We’ll see,” was all Alasdair would say, barely able to allow himself to think of Arabella’s mouth on his member.
And then he pulled her to the edge of the mattress so her legs dangled down and leaned over her and suckled briefly at each one of her nipples. She sank her fingers into his hair and he trailed a line of kisses from her breasts down her abdomen to her navel and then her thatch of maidenhair. She released his head, and he knelt down on the floor by the edge of the bed and put her small legs over his shoulders. He could feel her thighs quiver.
“You don’t have to do this, Alasdair,” she whispered toward the ceiling.
“Dinnae ye want me to? Because I want to, Arabella. I very much want to.”
“I don’t know.”
“Ye must promise to tell me if ye don’t like it. I might do it wrong. But I want to do this to ye, very much.”
She put her head up and looked at him. “I’m sure I’ll like anything you do, Alasdair.”
He turned his head and kissed one of her thighs.
She put her head back on the mattress.
He turned his head the other way and kissed the other inner thigh. Her skin here was so soft, so warm, so sweet. So delicate. And the smell of her arousal was getting stronger.
He slowly kissed his way up her legs, alternating between the right and the left thigh. There was no hurry. Had she not just promised to be in his bed forever?
But he had not counted on his wife. She was squirming. And were those mews he heard from her? She was eager.
He had reached her flower. She was open, wet, aroused. He kissed her softly on her outer petals. The mews from Arabella now turned into full-throated groans. He used his tongue then on her inner petals, lightly lapping at her dew, tasting her. He was not surprised to find that she was sweet here too, but there was also a tang, a saltiness and a musk that made him want to bury his face in her, to coat his nose and cheeks and lips with her.
He made his tongue soft and he felt all of her folds. He found her entrance and he used his tongue to lightly probe at it.
She made a sound that was close to a strangled scream.
He raised his head. “Did I hurt ye?” he said.
“Noooooo,” she gasped, “I am just ... in such a state!”
“Should I keep going?”
“I should think so,mo leannan. Definitely.” She reached down and laced the fingers of her right hand with his left.
He knew her most sensitive place was her glans clitoris. She had showed him that and called it her bud and he had touched her there with his hand many times himself in the last few days. He went back to her flower, and using the most delicate of touches with his tongue, he found the hard bud near the top of the crease. He licked there and felt the bud enlarge and harden under his tongue and she immediately became more wet, her outer and inner lips began to swell and she became very, very still.
Despite the swelling of her flower, he did not know if her quietness and stillness were good signs. So he licked again. In the same place.
“Yes,” exhaled Arabella.
He thought he should try to copy with his tongue what she had done to herself with her finger in front of him and what he had done with his own fingers. He licked the bud lightly at first—not knowing how much pressure he should give—but she raised her hips to him and pushed into him. So he licked more firmly and he let go of her hand to use both of his forearms to push her thighs down more firmly into his shoulders, her bottom into the bed, so that he could keep her in place.
He let himself range more freely over her flower now that he had pinned her. He wanted her aroused, he wanted her to spend, but he also selfishly wanted to know all of her. He would move his tongue off her bud and down her lips and then back up to her bud. He licked the edges of her introitus and then made his tongue pointed and firm and put his tongue inside her introitus. His cock twitched, wanting to be where his tongue was. Then he withdrew his tongue and used only his lips to mash against her labia, coming back to her bud.
He cast his gaze up toward her face but all he could see was the heave of her round breasts. He wished for six hands so that he could hold her breasts, pin her pelvis down, put his fingers inside her, all simultaneously. Make that eight, so that he could also cup the smooth cheeks of her buttocks and raise her flower to his lips.
But he also longed to see her face. Next time, he would put a pillow under her head so he could see her face, so that he could have some hints as to what she was experiencing. A pillow was more achievable than the extra hands.
Although he held her firmly down at her hips, her upper body was arching now, the curve of her spine surely separating from the bed, her nipples pointing even more skyward.
