Carnal Gift (30 page)
A voice of caution reminded him that lust was not love.
But he didn’t see lust in her eyes. He saw only longing. “Brighid.” He lifted her chin, forced her to meet his gaze, ran a thumb lazily over her tearstained cheek. “Are you certain? What you ask cannot be undone.” “Aye.” Her voice was a tremulous whisper.
“So be it.”
Sexual desire, too long denied, ripped through him, and the batde to refuse her became a battle not to frighten her with the force of his need. She was a virgin. She deserved a first time that was slow and sweet and gende. He would give her that.
Brighid looked into the eyes of the man who was about to make love to her. A fleeting feeling of elation was replaced by something that felt very much like fear. “Don’t hide your beauty.” He drew her arms away from her breasts, kissed her fingertips. “Mo
Bhrighid alainn.”
My
beautiful Brighid.
Where had he learned such words?
Bhrighid alainn.”
My
beautiful Brighid.
Where had he learned such words?
She felt her nipples tighten under the heat of his gaze, closed her eyes, tried to breathe. “I-I don’t know what to do.”
She heard him chuckle, felt his arms encircle her. “Just let me kiss you.”
His lips were gentle as they brushed over hers, his body warm and strong. He tasted faintly of drink, smelled of pine soap and man.
It felt right, so right. Soft breasts against hard chest. His mouth against hers. His fingers twined in her hair.
She gave herself over to the magic of his embrace, to the heady rush of freedom she always felt in his arms. Her hands found their way up the muscled length of his arms, over his shoulders, to the sculpted planes of his chest. His skin was soft, the shifting muscles beneath like bands of steel. She found and stroked the ridge of his scar with her fingertips.
He groaned, deepened the kiss, crushed her against him.
She sensed his urgency, felt an answering demand inside. The raw power of his masculine hunger pressed against her belly, setting off sparks deep within her. She had dreamed of this, wanted this for so long, perhaps since the first night she’d met him. Was this what all women felt in the arms of their lovers? Burning need. Unbearable heat. Sweet desperation. He scooped her into his arms, carried her to the bed, placed her gently on the soft, linen sheet. But he didn’t join her right away.
Instead, he stood over her for a moment, his heavy chest rising and falling with each breath, his gaze fixed on hers. As she watched, he grasped the edge of the towel, pulled.
It fell to the floor.
He stood completely revealed, his shaft full and thick against his belly.
She had only gotten a glimpse of him before and couldn’t help staring. She’d heard whisperings of the pain women experienced on their wedding nights. Now she understood why.
“You have nothing to fear.” His voice was a caress.
“I’m not afraid.”
“Breagach thu.” liar.
He stretched out beside her, gathered her in his arms until their bodies were pressed intimately against one another, warm skin against warm skin, the thick length of his arousal against her belly, one of his legs thrust casually between hers.
Then he slanted his mouth over hers, thrust deep with his tongue. The sensations were almost too much to take in at once—the velvet glide of his tongue, the hardness of his muscled thigh against the soft inner flesh of hers, the sweet rasp of his chest hair against her breasts. She heard herself whisper his name, whimper. When his calloused palm caressed her breast, her whimper became a moan. She pressed her breast deeper into the heat of his hand, eager for more, as his fingers flicked her nipple, teased it, shaped it into a rosy bud. When had she become so greedy, lapping up pleasure the way a cat lapped milk? But, oh, she wanted more. When he stopped, she almost cried out in dismay. But soft, hot lips quickly replaced calloused fingers. Jagged bolts of heat shot through her all the way to her core. She clung to him, almost afraid of the sultry sensations his touch conjured inside her, as his tongue flicked first one sensitive bud, then the other. “Jamie!” “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to taste you.” He cupped one breast, drew its taut crest into his hot mouth, sucked.
The wonderful shock of it made her body arch. The soft pull of his mouth, the rough caress of his tongue caused liquid heat to pool between her thighs, as he suckled first one nipple, then the other. She writhed beneath him, her fingers laced through his wet hair. “Oh, Jamie!”
“Mmm.” He scattered kisses across the underside of her breasts, molded them with his hands, his thumbs reaching to tease their wet, sensitive buds. “I want more of you.”
When he took her nipple into his mouth again, she felt her insides quiver. Her entire body seemed on fire. The heat between her thighs had become a blaze, and she felt an aching emptiness inside.
“You taste so good, Brighid!” His lips continued to tug on her nipples, while one of his hands began to explore her belly.
Fire licked her skin wherever he touched her—the curve of her hip, the hollow of her waist, the rounded flesh of her lower belly. She wanted him to touch her, needed him to touch her as he’d done in the library, his hand between her thighs.
As if to torment her, his hand repeatedly moved nearer to, then farther from, the place that burned hottest for him. Slowly, ever so slowly, he caressed her lower belly, tickled the flesh of her inner thighs, brushed lighdy over her woman’s curls until she cried out, desperate, breathless, reckless with need.
As if through a fog, she realized he was doing this on purpose to tease her, taunt her, increase her arousal. He knew more about her body than she, knew how to unlock its secrets, how and when and where to touch her to fuel her hunger.
When at last his hand cupped her sex, she lifted her hips to meet his caress. “Oh, Jamie, aye!” The pressure was sweet as the heel of his hand moved in slow, smooth circles. Her hips moved of their own accord to match his rhythm, as delicious new sensations began to unfold in her belly. She writhed beneath his touch, whimpered, whispered his name. “Jamie! Jamie! Jamie!”
His lips left her breasts, found the sensitive skin of her throat. “I’m going to open you now, but slowly.” As he spoke, his voice deep and husky, he lifted one of her thighs, draped her leg over his, prepared her for his more intimate touch.
She fought the impulse to draw her thighs back together. Never had she felt so exposed. Then his fingers slid between her slick woman’s folds, parted her, began to stroke the sensitive nub hidden there, and she felt only delight.
“Oh, Jamie! Aaah!” Tremors of pleasure rushed through her at this exquisite, new feeling. The aching emptiness inside her grew sharper. Her whimpers became breathless moans as he rhythmically flicked a finger over her bud, circled and teased her. And when she thought she must surely die, he slid a finger deep inside her. Aye! This was what she wanted, what she needed. His deep groan mingled with her own cry, as he stroked her deeply, caressed a part of her that had never been touched before but yearned to be touched. “You are so wet, love.” His teeth nipped her earlobe, her throat. “Soon, I’ll be deep inside you, but I want you to feel it first. I want you to know how good it is. Come for me.”
His English words made no sense. Come for him? But her mind was too full of mist, too fogged with desire for her to work it out. And when he slid a second finger inside her, stretched her maiden’s barrier, she could no longer think. There was nothing in the world but Jamie, nothing but the way he made her feel. “Oh, Jamie! It ... feels ... so ... good!”
“And it only gets better, love.” Gently, persistently, he stroked her, slid his fingers in and out of her slick sheath, his fingers wet with her moisture. His thumb pressed relentless circles against her swollen pearl. “I’ve wanted you for so long,
a Bhrighid,
so long.”
a Bhrighid,
so long.”
Something overwhelming began to build inside her, something reckless and hot. She was being washed away, carried to some perilous edge. She tried to draw her thighs together, tried to hold the precipice at bay. He shifted his leg so that its weight held hers firmly apart. “You can’t escape it, Brighid. Surrender. Give yourself to it.”
Her fingers dug into the muscles of his back as she fought to keep her hold on the world she knew. She heard his whispered endearments, her own frantic cries. “That’s it, Brighid. Take it!”
She gasped, cried out, as the fire within her drew itself into a tense ball in her belly, then exploded outward. A shower of sparks. Searing bliss. Waves of desperate pleasure rippled through her, buffeted her with sensation too good to be true. “Jamie!”
He moaned with her, trailed gentle bites along her throat, his fingers thrusting deep inside her, prolonging her bliss, until she lay weak and panting in his arms.
“Mo Bhrighid bhdn.” My fair Brighid. He rained kisses across her brow, her cheeks, her breasts. If she hadn’t felt him, warm and strong, beside her, she’d have thought she was floating. She opened her eyes, met his gaze, saw the intensity burning in him. And it dawned on her that everything he’d done so far had been intended to give
her
pleasure. He had yet to sate himself. She was touched by his tenderness, astounded at what she’d just experienced. She’d had no idea it could feel so good for a woman.
her
pleasure. He had yet to sate himself. She was touched by his tenderness, astounded at what she’d just experienced. She’d had no idea it could feel so good for a woman.
She must have spoken that last thought aloud, as he chuckled, smiled at her. “You’ve had but the merest taste, my sweet. Are you ready for the feast?” His voice was deep, husky, laden with sexual promise. She didn’t know if she was ready, but his question, the tone of his voice, made her belly lurch. Then she realized with a start his fingers were still inside her, felt a blush creep over her skin, looked away.
“Look, at me, Brighid.”
She fought to lift her gaze to his.
“You’ve no reason to feel shame, sweet.” He gazed down at her, slowly withdrew from her, began to caress her tender bud with fingers made slick from her own juices. “Everything about you is beautiful, made for a man’s touch, my touch.”
It felt so good, better than before.
The fire that had burned down to embers burst into eager flames inside her, as his fingers slid quickly, easily over that most sensitive spot. She ran her hands over his chest, drinking him in. “Kiss me, Jamie. Please!” When he took her lips again, his kiss was savage, relentless.
It was a kiss meant to claim her, not seduce her.
It left her bruised, breathless, longing for more.
It was everything she needed, everything she wanted. She realized that whatever he’d been holding back had now been let loose. He had given, and now he would take.
Like a mighty wave, his passion washed over her, besieged her, marked her soul. Had his weight not anchored her fast to the bed, she’d surely have been swept away by the force of it. His body pressed against her, flesh against burning flesh. His arousal strained against her belly. A jolt of answering heat. A taste of fear.
Would it hurt? She couldn’t imagine having him inside her without pain.
Even were it so, she wanted him. She needed him.
There was no turning back now.
Still kissing her, he stretched his body over hers, settled between her thighs. “Open your eyes. Look at me, Brighid.”
Her gaze locked with his. His eyes were dark with passion, his pupils wide.
She felt the thick head of his shaft tease her cleft, withdraw.
Then he nudged again, withdrew.
He felt silky soft, hard as steel, as he probed her again and again, each time going deeper, stretching her a bit more. Her hunger grew with each small thrust, until she was making little mewling sounds and her nails dug into the muscles of his shoulders.
She could see in his eyes, in the strain on his face, exactly what his control cost him. His brow was furrowed, and breath hissed from between his clenched teeth. The next time he entered her, she followed instinct and lifted her hips to meet him.
She felt him press against her virgin’s barrier.
With a groan, he thrust, breeched it.
She cried out, squeezed her eyes shut.
The pain was white hot.
He captured her cry with his mouth, held himself still within her, whispered reassurances, his voice deep, soothing. “From now on, only pleasure, love. I promise.” But already the pain was gone. Instead, she felt an erotic sense of fullness. He was inside her, a part of her. And in that moment it seemed to Brighid their bodies had been destined to join together in just this fevered way.
They were one, she and this strange, wonderful man, this
Sasanach.
Sasanach.
Slowly he withdrew. When he entered her again, she couldn’t help moaning as he stretched her, filled her, made her complete. And just when she thought he’d buried himself totally, he withdrew, then pushed himself deeper still, until she could feel him against her womb. He was deep inside her now, all of him. “God, Brighid!” He sounded as if he were in pain. “You are so tight. So hot.”
His rhythm began to build, stroke upon stroke, each thrust making her hungrier, more desperate for the next. How had she lived without this? How had she lived without him? Never had she felt anything like this melting ecstasy, this fevered yearning.
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