But he wasn't listening, appearing captivated as his fingers glided over the line of her jaw. "So delicate," he said absently, seeming not to realize he'd spoken aloud. Somehow she knew this wasn't a mere seduction. He was exploring her, his eyes dark with curiosity. "I've no' had a woman like you before."
"Like me?"
"So slight." He traced the shell of her ear, making her shiver. "I'm almost afraid to put my hands on you."
"Oh, don't say that."
"I saidalmost . Nothing could stop me from taking you tonight." He trailed his fingers down, running the pads over her collarbone. As he brushed lower, her breaths grew harried, her chest rising and falling madly under his touch. When he reached the edge of her tight bodice, he worked his fingers inside. Slowly delving, pressing deeper...deeper...until the tip of his forefinger met her throbbing nipple.
"Oh, my God," she moaned, clutching both of her hands on the back of his neck.
"Delicate...and sensitive." He languidly rolled her swollen nipple, rasping, "You like that."
Her eyes fluttered closed, and she nodded.
When he withdrew his hand she wanted to keen, but she was mollified to see that he'd begun an attempt on the laces of her bodice. The ties, however, were thin and difficult to manage even for her. After fumbling for several moments, he gave a growl of frustration and curled his big fingers inside the fabric.
When she realized he was about to yank, she opened her mouth to sputter her outrage - she'd gone into debt to afford this dress! - but then, he released her. With a frown of concentration, he endeavored it again.
Something in her softened toward him - even more. "Let me, Scot," she said, removing his hands with a tender kiss to each palm.
At different points in the evening, she'd noticed that he would hesitate, drawing back for the briefest moment as though to take time to think. He did that now. She'd begun to wonder if she was behaving incorrectly - thiswas her first affair - or if what was happening between them was just completely different from what he was used to. She suspected the latter.
Once she'd freed the laces at last, he pulled wide the edges of her gown. As he unhurriedly tugged down the gauzy cups of her corset to bare her, she swallowed.It's dark. He can't really see me.... When cool air caressed her br**sts, she willed herself not to turn her face away or to cover herself with her hands.
He hissed something in a foreign language, possibly Gaelic.
"What did you say?" she asked nervously.
"I said I'm goin' tae kiss these all night." He ran the backs of his fingers over both of her ni**les, his gaze flickering over her face, gauging her response. She sucked in a breath and felt the tips hardening even more, right before his eyes.
Then he cupped her with his hot, scratchy palms. "You could no' be softer." He covered her small br**sts completely, kneading until she grew sensuously warm and wet between her legs.
Exactly how had she been living without this?
When he removed his hands to shrug out of his jacket, she found herself arching forward for them. He made a grated sound that might have been a chuckle. "Greedy lass," he said, but she thought he was pleased. He returned his hands to her. "Then undo my shirt for me." He might have been making fun of her, but she didn't care. Her need urged her on.
As she struggled with his buttons, he leaned down to nuzzle her ni**les, his hot breaths making them throb, but he didn't suckle her, only teased until she was squirming on his lap, writhing over his jutting erection.
He finally set upon her br**sts with his hot mouth. "Oh, my God," she whispered as he dragged his tongue over her stiffened nipple. When she vaguely perceived his hand under her skirts, his fingers ascending from her knee to her thigh, she said, "Scot, I...please go slow. I want you. Oh, God!" she cried as he closed his lips around her aching peak, sucking her hard. "B-but can't we go slower?"
He drew back. "Why?" he asked, seeming genuinely confused.
"I just think...maybe I would be more comfortable."
"I've been long without a woman," he said, his voice strained as he removed her from his lap to the bench. "I'll do it slowly for the rest of tonight." He wadded up his jacket and placed it behind her. "But for now, I need tae be inside you." Her other nipple received the same fierce attention as the first as he pressed her back.
"Oh, God...that feels nice." The way he touched her was proprietary, possessive - and a bit...rough. So why was she arching in delight? "But, Scot...you see..."
He leaned up then, meeting her eyes. "What is it?" His shirt gaped open, displaying his chiseled torso to her fascinated gaze, and she lost track of what she'd been about to say.
She couldtouch him. This was what she'd wondered about,dreamed about. She frantically yanked off her tormenting gloves to caress him. She sighed with delight when the muscles of his chest tensed and flexed to her touch so perfectly, as if she'd trained them over years.
She placed her palms flat and rubbed down over rigid indentations and swells, in a heaven of sensation, her fingertips tingling with delight at each new texture...his firm, smooth skin...the crisp hair in a trail just below his navel. She savored his reaction - his lids sliding shut, his jaw slackening.
Nearly dumbstruck with pleasure, she scarcely noticed that her skirts were suddenly rucked up to her waist.
Chapter 6~7
Chapter Six
Ethan burned for this, finally to have a woman after so long. Though it had never been his way, he wanted her throughout the night, to take her again and again. To kiss every inch of her ravishing body.
Before sending her along.
"Oh, my word," she murmured, still seeming enthralled with his chest.
Her fingertips brushed him as though with reverence. He didn't understand this tenderness - it was foreign to him - yet he couldn't stop her.
"Your heart's thundering." She laid her hand over the center of his chest. "Are you nervous?"
"I'm no'nervous," he lied, his voice unaccountably gruff. It had been so long that he feared he'd shame himself with one thrust. And for the first time in his life he cared about what his partner would think. He wanted not only to pleasure her but also to impress her. He wanted to be the best she'd ever had.
"You said you've been long without a woman. A very long while?" she asked.
"Aye, a verra long while," he answered, shocked that he'd told her the truth.
"Well. I'm sure we can muddle through this together," she said, sounding calm, but she'd begun trembling. He wasn't the only one who was nervous.
Yet once his fingers skimmed up her smooth thighs to dip into the slit of her pantalettes, she relaxed. At his first touch between her legs, he shuddered with pleasure. "You're wet for me," he rasped, so damned excited by her. With one hand, he petted her br**sts, and with the other, he ran his forefinger up and down her sex, taking her wetness to circle her little clitoris.
She cried out, arching her back. Soon she was undulating her hips with need, growing more wanton with each of his strokes. He wanted to taste her there, to delve his fingers inside her, but he knew he'd come immediately.
He absently recognized that two hours ago, he'd feared he was quit of this feeling, and now, with her...
Ethan was about to spill like an untried lad.
He had to take her before it became too late for him. When he removed his hands to hastily tug her pantalettes from her, she wriggled her chest to put her breast back under his palm.
My God, she's a hot little piece.He couldn't imagine what riding her would be like.
With her undergarments removed and her skirts bunched at her waist, she shivered and whimpered with abandon. One coaxing press against her inner thigh and her knees slid open, without teasing. He began to wonder if her ungoverned responses - so unpracticed and therefore unfamiliar to him - wereinnocent responses. He'd never been with a virgin and didn't intend to start tonight.
No, she kissed like a courtesan, accepting it when he took her mouth deeply, wetly. But just to be certain, he unfastened his trousers, releasing his sensitive shaft with a choked groan. "I want you tae stroke me." A virgin's touch would be hesitant, tentative.
She nodded and took him in her soft palm - his first contact in so long; he couldn't prevent himself from bucking into her grip.
With her brows drawn, she eased her other hand down to expertly heft and tug his sack. When she thumbed the wet slit of his penis in slow circles, his eyes rolled back in his head. All doubt dispelled, he grated, "That's enough. You're going to see a man spill his seed if you doona stop."