The response was a growl. Followed by, “Fuck your training,” into the curve of her neck.
He raised his head and laced his fingers into her hair and jerked her head back. “I want you, Helen. That’s all. I want to fuck you. And I’m going to fuck you tonight if you’re willing, and I’m not doing it to train you for another man. Is that clear? I’m doing it because Jack Pike wants you. That’s the only reason. Is that all right?”
She shuddered. She could feel his hard length pressing against her and all she could think of was having it inside her.
“Aye,” she managed to choke out. “Aye, that’s all right.”
“Good.” And his mouth was on hers again. His hands were on her back, fumbling and grasping at her buttons, his thigh between her legs, pressing on that place. And she was shamelessly rubbing herself against him, riding his leg. There was wet heat pooling in her cleft and an ache there that was only bearable because she knew he would release it.
“Jack,” she rasped. He pulled her dress down to her waist, only her chemise covering her top half. “Jack Pike, nae here. My bedchamber.”
He picked her up, sweeping her into his arms. “Where?”
“The back, the right side.”
She clung to him as he carried her down the hall, her arms around his neck, and she had a few seconds when she could look at him, at his face. Was it really possible this god wanted her, even if it was only for tonight?
He looked down at her. “You’re not having second thoughts, are you, Helen?”
“Nae,mo luran.”
“Good.”
“I-I’m having wicked thoughts.”
His response was yet another growl and his head coming down in an almost-lunge to tear at her mouth with his and then they were in her bedchamber where she had left the lamp burning. He fell on top of her on the bed and his mouth was roving over her chest, nipping and sucking at her breasts through her chemise.
“L-let me get my dress off.”
He rolled off her and she got up from the bed and started pulling her brown woolen dress the rest of the way down, trying to be quick because he might change his mind and the ache, oh, the ache.
“I hate that dress, Helen.” He was jerking at his cravat, unbuttoning his waistcoat. Only now did she realize he was wearing very fine clothes, far finer than any she had ever seen before in her life. He was dressed like a prince.
“After tomorrow, we are burning that dress.” He threw his shoes in the corner.
“Aye.” She pulled her chemise over her head.
His clothes were off. She had a glimpse of his muscled chest with its scar. His member, darker than the rest of his golden skin, large and pointing up toward his flat abdomen. He took one long step toward her and pulled her into him so their naked bodies could not be any closer, could not be crushed together any more tightly. She could feel his hard cock pushing at her own abdomen now, insistent. His hands were on the cheeks of her bottom and he was kissing her again. Wildly. Teeth clashing, his tongue deep inside her mouth. She went up on her toes and wrapped one leg around his thigh, trying to get her cleft closer to his cock, her mouth closer to his.
His hands were running up and down her back. Up and down. Just as they had been at the stream that day. But now it was because he wanted her. He wanted to be inside her.
“I’m ready, Jack,” she managed to get out when his mouth went to her jaw, her throat, her shoulder. “I’m ready.”
He lifted her by her haunches and took her to the bed again, lying half on her, half to the side of her on the mattress.
“I want you,” he kissed her and rubbed the palm of his hand roughly over one of her breasts and she groaned, “to have enough kissing.”
“Ah-aye.”
“I want you,” he kissed her with his tongue thrusting and took his finger to the seam of her cleft and rubbed her wetness there, “to have so much kissing that you beg me to stop kissing you and to fuck you.”
“Aye,” she trembled, “please. I beg ye.”
“Say it, Countess of Kinmarloch. Say it.”
“Please fuck me.”
He rolled and knelt between her legs and pushed them farther apart. His cock protruded out, high, hard. So much larger than it had been when he had put her hand on it in Dunmore. And now he had his hand on it himself.
