Oh, wait, nay. ‘Tis because I forgot to breathe.
Right.
Sucking in a breath so fast it made her lightheaded, she fumbled for her gown’s laces. Mam made sure the castle’s secret passages were kept clean, so at least neither of them had to worry about dusty clothes.
They came together in the center of the room, lips tangling and breaths mixing. He was nude, and Lara couldn’t help dropping her hand to feel his hard length. ‘Twas like steel encased in velvet—not at all like Treenis—and when he groaned, she caught the sound with her lips.
She was still wearing her chemise, although it hung off one shoulder. Alistair made short work of that, peeling it down so he could cup her breast and brush a pad of his thumb over her nipple. Mewling, she arched against him.
He held her with one strong arm, and somehow she’d lost her hold on him and was instead gripping and tugging, trying to pull him closer. But when he dropped his mouth to her other breast—the one still covered with the thin linen of her chemise—she blurted his name.
Chuckling, he continued his gentle torture, suckling at her nipple through the material. The wet linen clung to her in the most intriguing ways, and when he blew a cool breath across it, she shivered in need.
‘Twas him. She needed him.
He stripped the chemise from her shoulder, allowing it to pool around her waist. Then he shifted and it fell to the floor, and his hand was cupping her curls. One finger unerringly found the bud of her pleasure, and when he pressed against it, she jerked and almost came undone in his arms.
She wanted this. She needed this.
But first…
With a gasp, she planted her hands on his shoulders and pushed. Obviously, she caught him by surprise, because when he lifted his head, his eyes were still hazy from passion.
“I have to show ye something.”
He blinked. “Aye?”
Squirming, she convinced him to release her, although it took a moment to remember how to stand on her own—her knees were so weak and the ache between her legs so fierce. Why, on her way to the bed, where she kept her personal things in a box under the mattress, she had to press her thighs together to keep the liquid need from soaking her legs.
He’d moved closer, and when she straightened, carrying her secret, he stopped and frowned down at the object in her hands.
‘Twas made of highly polished wood, rubbed lovingly with wax to make it as smooth as the ridges would allow. Other than those gentle ribs, ‘twas the size and shape of her forearm.
And looked exactly like a cock.
“Is that what I think ‘tis?” he murmured, raising a brow at her.
“This…”—she lifted the object, as if presenting a medal—“is Treenis.”
“Treenis,” he repeated blandly. Then again, “This is Treenis?”
She smiled impishly. “A penis made from wood. Treenis.”
Eyeing the thing with speculation, Alistair hummed. “It looks to have been made from an entire tree. Treenis.”
Her smile grew as she waggled the thing. “And ‘tis ribbed for my pleasure!”
Between one blink and the next, Alistair’s expression turned wolfish. “Show me,” he commanded, and she was glad for the chance.
She scrambled up on the bed and placed one hand behind her to support herself. Then she lifted her legs, planted her bare feet on the coverlet, and spread her knees. She knew from the way he sucked in a breath that the image she presented was as erotic as she suspected.
With her free hand, she dragged Treenis along her dripping core, spreading her arousal over the fake cock to make its entry easier. And then, holding his gaze, she slid the thick object into her entrance.
He sucked in a breath the same time she did.
“Ye see?” she moaned, pulling Treenis most of the way back out again. “Ye have nae reason to be jealous of my little friend here.”
He wasn’t looking at her face. “I dinnae ken,” he murmured, reaching for his own cock and stroking it a few times, his gaze intent on where she slid Treenis in and out of her dripping entrance, “I’m suddenly feeling verra jealous.”
“Of this?” Teasing him, she dropped back against the bed, so that she could use her other hand to touch herself. As she watched him, she played with the nub of her pleasure with one set of fingers and kept time with the fake penis with the other.
The need built to the point where, with a groan, she thrust her arse off the bed, her weight balanced on her shoulders and the balls of her feet.
“Is that enough?” Alistair was panting now, his fist pumping around his cock as he watched her. “Is that all ye want?”
“Nay,” she moaned, and pulled Treenis from her entrance. “I need ye, Alistair. Now!” she commanded, tossing the wooden cock away and reaching for him.
‘Twas apparently all the encouragement he needed. With a muttered curse, he reached for her, falling atop her, and then he was in her. They both froze for a moment, then loosened.
“Aye, love,” he murmured. “Just relax and let me take command.”
“But ye dinnae—” She gasped, then wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and her legs around his hips. “Ye dinnae like—”
He was smiling above her. “I think I can manage this, Lara. Trust me.”
So she did, and neither of them lasted very long. She felt her own muscles clenching, tightening, pulling, moments before he roared her name. They both found bliss together, his strokes getting shallower and shallower, until at last, they lay, panting, in one another’s arms.
‘Twas a long moment before he rolled off her with a groan, pulling her with him. She ended up splayed across his chest, their legs tangled, as he pulled the coverlet from underneath his arse.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured against her hair, one hand stroking her arm. “I’m sorry I made assumptions about ye.”
She smiled against his skin, knowing she’d already forgiven him.
