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She didn’t know if things would work out for them, but then, they might not even survive the coming battle. Best she just lived in the moment. It was all they had.

The kiss drew out, growing hungrier, wilder. Then, with a soft cry, Ailsa tore her lips from his and shoved herself off his lap.

“Ailsa?” he reached for her, alarmed. “What—?”

“It’s all right,” she gasped. “I need this.”

Dropping to her knees before him, she reached up and deftly undid the laces to his breeches.

He murmured a curse, yet didn’t move to stop her, and when she glanced up, she saw his gaze had hooded, his chest rising and falling sharply.

Of course, he wasn’t going to stop her.

They’d lain together twice now, and she’d been desperate even then to taste him.

Now she would.

His shaft sprang free of the tight leather, jerking as she wrapped her fingers around its girth, scalding hot and as hard as a rod of iron.

The sight of it made her mouth flood with saliva.

Breathing hard, she traced a fingertip down its straining length, letting him feel the sharp tip of her nail.

He made a sound in the back of his throat, and she smiled.

She liked having him like this.

Completely in her thrall.

Sliding her finger down, she scraped it over his balls. They tightened under her touch, and a groan tore from him.

Emboldened, Ailsa raked all the nails of her left hand gently over his bollocks, feeling him shiver under her. “You like that, do you?” she murmured.

“Aye,” he ground out, eyelids flickering. “Don’t stop.”

Her smile widened. She had no intention of doing so.

Still stroking him, she bent her head and took the crown of his rod into her mouth.

He tasted slightly salty, musky.

Another cry caught in her throat as her tongue traced around the swollen tip. Then she leaned farther in, sliding herself down on him, taking him in as far as she could until her jaw creaked and her eyes watered.

And then, still raking her fingernails over his balls, she started to slide herself up and down his engorged rod.

Darach made a choked noise, arching his hips to meet her as she worked him in slow, gliding strokes. His hands tangled in her hair, gentle yet firm, as he helped her set the right pace.

And as she sucked his prick, molten heat gathered in her loins.

Gods, she loved this. Using her mouth on him made her feel both submissive and powerful.

She increased the tempo slightly, feeling him swell further, the tip of him hitting the back of her throat now.

And then his prick jerked in her mouth—and he arched up in a violent climax, his curse echoing off stone.

Ailsa drank his seed down, swallowing furiously before licking the length of him clean. To her surprise, he was still at half-mast, and when she finally looked up from her ministrations, she found him watching her, eyes still hooded, chest rising and falling shallowly.

“That,” he growled, “was fucking incredible.”