He loved being inside her and felt himself swell as the slick tightening of her channel gripped him like a vice. Her body tensed, and her nails dug into his shoulders. He knew the signs of a woman reaching her peak, but he would be damned if he let this bliss end so quickly, so he slowed his tempo.
“Ye all right, leannain?” he rasped, sliding into her slowly, and so very deep to the point the square of his hips met her bottom.
“Yes,” she hissed.
He thrust to the hilt, embedding himself fully and drawing out with languid strokes. Mary was flushed and warm under him, and he nearly lost himself in their joining. The wet, rhythmic slide of him inside her tightness and the ecstatic emotion that played over her face when he massaged her knot as he took her nearly did him in.
Her moans were sweet in his ear as he swept a finger over her sex, taking some of her wetness to his mouth and sucked the dew from his finger. “How do ye like it best, soft and deep or hard and fast?”
“I don’t—ah!” her nails sank into his back as he thrust in deep. Her body arched up and her toes curled at his side at his torturous slow withdrawal. He knew she was on the brink of completion and he was too.
It had taken him a massive amount of strength to stop him from releasing into her earlier but he wanted this connection to last. He kept the slow pace until her body was shivering, her skin coated with sweat and his bollocks began to burn with the need to empty his seed.
Groaning, his pace grew faster and his thumb found her nub, pressing on it mercilessly in time with his thrusts. Faster and faster he rubbed her, thrusting into her harder and deeper. On the edge, he grabbed her legs and he threw them over his shoulders to get the deepest angle into her. She cried out and went rigid, her back bowing and swore he had breached her womb.
As she clamped down on him, he covered her mouth, swallowing her scream and bestowing her with his own guttural shout. He pulled out of her heat, with a breath to spare, shoving his fingers into her slickness. When she clamped down on him a rush of wetness coated his hand while his manhood pulsed and he spilled on the sheets.
Breathing heavily, he kissed her face, her ears, her eyes, and her lips before drawing his fingers out. Her hair lay in a tangled mess on the bed but when her heaving chest calmed and her eyes opened, they glowed with wonder.
He sank to her side and took her into his arms, kissing her brow and temple. “Ye were perfect, Mary. So bloody perfect. I never wanted it to end.”
She snuggled into his chest and smiled sleepily. “Me too…when can we do it again?”
He laughed, and playfully bit at her ear, “That’s all up to ye, mo gràidh. But let an old man get his breath first.”
“You have ten minutes,” Mary said boldly even as he could hear her holding back a yawn.
“Ten minutes it is,” Leith smiled knowing that she would never last that long. And he was right—ten minutes later, Mary was fast asleep.
23
His eyes had not closed, even after Mary had drifted off. With her resting on his chest, he played with her hair and loved the feeling of her rising chest on his. The softness of her breasts was welcomed too. Her body was so soft and was the contrast of his war-honed hardness, and he loved that even more.
Ye gave me a glimpse of heaven without dying, Mary. I swear joining with ye surpasses the meaning of the word bliss.
The tangle of sheets barely covered her lower half but he wanted her breasts on him, those delectable mounds crowned with pink tips he’d suckled on like a babe.
He yearned to wake her and sample the taste of her pert buds again. His eyes liberally took in in every line, every delicate curve of her slender body. His hand lightly ran over her hip and his gut tightened when he remembered how her legs had wrapped around his waist. The joy that raced over his skin when he sank slowly inside her. Hell, it felt like coming home after a long dreary journey.
The musky scent of their joining hung heavy in the air, and the ache in his groin intensified. When she moved, sighing as she nuzzled on his chest, tender emotions tugged at his heart. Her soft skin was a pale pink from the afterglow of their joining.
Looking back when he had slowed down, stopping her rapid rise to completion, he had seen pure love in her eyes. Mayhap that was why he had slowed them, to see that look and know that this was not a joining for lust but was lovemaking instead.
Startled by a rap on the door, Leith cursed under his breath. Moving away from Mary felt like the highest sin he had ever committed. The rap came again, louder this time and fearing it would wake Mary, he slid out of bed, stopping briefly to drag his trews on and yanked the door open. “What?”
The page boy on the other side jumped. “A-a man has arrived, my lord, he says Laird Robasdan sent him a-and that he is a mind-healer from the lowlands. Says his name is Luag Magrath.”
Tarrant, ye came through for me at the best time.
Rubbing his face, he said. “Thank ye, I’ll be down shortly.”
He closed the door as quietly as he could and bolted
