Before she could form a reply, his mouth was on hers again, stealing her thoughts. He kissed the corner of her lips, the line of her jaw, the frantic pulse at the base of her throat. Scarlett’s head fell back, a soft, yielding sigh escaping her as his lips worked a magic that made her bones feel like liquid.
“Robert…” His name was a plea though for what, she didn’t know. “Aye, I like it when ye call me name,” he whispered against her skin.
His hands moved to the laces of her undergarment dress, his fingers deft and sure. “Let me see ye.”
The fabric whispered away, pooling at her waist then falling completely as he helped her out of it. He looked his fill, his eyes dark and intense, tracing the lines of her body in the dim light.
“So bonnie,” he breathed, the words full of reverence. “A vision.”
His mouth found the hollow of her throat then lower, tracing a path of fire down her sternum. Scarlett’s hands came up, her fingers tangling in his damp hair, holding him to her as he neared the peak of her breast. He teased her, his breath ghosting over one taut nipple before he finally, finally took it into his mouth.
A sharp, broken cry tore from her. Her back arched off the bed, her hips lifting in a helpless, seeking motion. The sensation was exquisite, a direct line of pleasure that pulled at the very core of her. He lavished attention on one breast then the other with his tongue and teeth until she was writhing beneath him, a litany of soft moans and gasps the only language she possessed.
“Please,” she begged, the word raw and unfamiliar on her tongue.
“Please, what, Scarlett?” he asked, his voice thick with his own desire. He kissed his way down her quivering stomach, his hands splaying on her hips to still her. “Tell me.”
But she couldn’t. She could only feel the overwhelming need, the ache building deep within her. She was wet, a slick, throbbing heat between her legs that she was acutely, shamefully aware of. It was a desperate readiness she had never known, and when his hand slid down, his palm cupping her through the soft thatch of curls, she jolted.
“Gods, Scarlett,” he groaned, the sound pained. “Yer so ready for me. Like silk.”
His words sent a fresh wave of heat through her. He parted her folds with a touch so gentle it made her want to weep. And then his finger was there, circling the very center of her need, and she cried out, her eyes squeezing shut.
“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice soft but firm.
She forced her eyes open, meeting his burning gaze. He held it as he slowly, so slowly, slid a finger inside her.
She gasped, her inner muscles clenching around the delicious, filling intrusion. “Oh…”
“Aye, just like that,” he soothed, beginning a slow, rhythmic stroke that made her whimper. “Yer perfect.”
It was too much and not enough. The coil of pleasure tightened with every pass of his hand, but it hovered just out of reach. She was panting, her body straining, chasing a release she couldn’t name.
Then he moved. He shifted down the bed, his kisses trailing over her hip bones, and she knew his intent.
“Robert, wait… ye cannae…” she protested, a flush of modesty seizing her.
He looked up, his eyes glinting in the near darkness. “I can. And I will. This night is mine, remember? And I intend to learn every taste of ye.”
Before she could form another thought, he lowered his head.
The first touch of his tongue was an electric shock. Scarlett’s whole body bowed off the bed, a sharp, wordless cry ripped from her throat. It was an intimacy so profound it shattered her. He held her hips firm, his tongue a wicked, clever instrument that laved and teased the very spot his finger had been stroking.
“Oh, God… Robert!” she moaned, her hands fisting in the sheets.
He groaned against her, the vibration sending another jolt of pure pleasure through her. “So sweet,” he muttered, his voice muffled against her skin. “Like heather and honey.”
He added a second finger, stretching her, filling her as his tongue worked its relentless magic. The world narrowed to the point where his mouth met her body, to the building pressure that was becoming unbearable. She was babbling, a stream of yes and please and his name, over and over.
“I cannae… I’m going to…” she sobbed, on the very edge of a precipice.
“Let go, Scarlett,” he urged, his voice a rough command. “Come for me, lass. Let me feel it.”
His words were the final key. The coil snapped. A wave of pleasure, so intense it was almost painful, crashed over her. She screamed, her body convulsing around his fingers, her vision whiting out as the sensations ripped through her in endless, shattering waves. She was aware of his mouth on her, gentler now, drinking her in, of his low, approving groans as he guided her through the storm.
When the last tremor finally subsided, she lay boneless, utterly spent. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her skin slick with a fine sheen of sweat. Robert moved up her body, his own breathing harsh, and gathered her against him. He kissed her forehead, her eyelids, and her swollen lips.
“Are ye all right?” he asked.
