That simply would not do.
She wound her arms around his neck and pressed her soft curves to him. She felt her heart beating fast, and his shaft hardening.
Suddenly she twisted out of his arms and sat up. While he was watching as if waiting to see what whim had seized her, she wriggled, freeing her gown, grabbed the hem with both hands and tugged it over her head. Then she set about untying the string of her petticoat and wriggled out of it, letting it drop to the floor beside the bed. After quickly unlacing her shirt, she snatched it over her head and dropped it beside her petticoat.
Naked, her hair tumbling over her shoulders, she smiled up at him, tempting him with hands cupping her breasts, moving herknees apart. Legs bent, she lay back on the pillow, resting on her fur cloak, teasing him with her eyes.
“Have ye lost all of yer lust, Edmund? Fer I’ve enough for two.”
He snorted. “Ye’re a wanton creature, Annora Munro. And, if ye dare, I’ll show ye me lust.”
His rigid manhood sprang to attention beneath his kilt and she took it in her hand.
“Ah,” she muttered admiringly, weighing his hardness, “I see ye still desire me.”
He laughed as he descended on her, lavishing wild kissed down her throat, across her shoulders, while his fingers toyed with the nub of her breast, making it pucker, sending rapturous shivers through her.
She pressed her breast against his hand and moaned his name, her eager hands stroking across the muscles of his chest until she reached his hard little nubs. She toyed with him ruthlessly, as he’d done with her, and took his nub into her mouth to nibble with her teeth, reveling in the sound of his moans.
She stroked his shaft and he moaned louder.
“Lass, what are ye doing tae me,” he said in amazement.
She laughed in his mouth and kissed him again.
“Take me, me husband, I’m nae a fragile doll. Me blood runs hot in me veins and I long fer ye.”
Reaching up she fumbled with the buckle of his belt, her fingers working on it until she pulled his belt free and released his kilt.
Wearing nothing now, but his shirt, he knelt on the bed and rolled her over so that she was on her back gazing up into his eyes.
Leaning on his elbows he looked down at her, a smile quirking his lips.
“I love yer boldness, lass. And I love ye fer all yer wanton ways.”
She gave a delighted laugh. “And I love ye Edmund MacNeacail, fer all yer wicked ways.”
“Is this one of those wicked ways,” he asked, tracing a finger over her breast to its nub and circling it with finger thumb.
“Mmm. Mayhap. Dinnae stop, let me think on it.”
He tormented her delicate senses a little longer, so that she gasped in a breath and moaned softly, tangling her legs with his.
“What about this? Is this one of me wicked ways?” He traced a row of kisses down her belly until he came to rest among the curls of her mound. His tongue snaked out to tease the little bud of pleasure above her thighs.
“Oh. Mayhap that is a very wicked way of yers.”
His fingers dipped into her wetness, stroking her.
She flung her head back and cried out. “Wicked indeed.”
After that she found it too distracting to speak at all as her senses were flooded with bliss and every movement of his brought rapture.
Poised on the brink of ecstasy, she whispered “Wait.”
He hauled in a deep breath and stilled his hand.
“I want ye, MacNeacail,” She could scarcely breathe the words for wanting him so badly. “I want ye tae take me someplace I’ve never yet been.” She wound her legs around his back, and he shifted so that his shaft dipped into her entrance.
