Her back arched and she moved sinuously against him, firing his blood even hotter. Looping her arm around his neck, she buried her hand in his hair and tilted her head backward, wordlessly asking for more. He relished kissing the velvety skin of her shoulder and her neck, then trailed a hand up her bare thigh, over the flare of her hip, and along her trim waist. Luscious was the only word for her.
After skimming his hand down from her flat belly, he gently brushed his fingers through her soft curls and over her most beguiling feminine place. She gave a pleasure-filled hum and wiggled against him. Seared by such sweet temptation, he ground his teeth.
Simply remembering how he'd driven himself to her depths earlier sent a renewed ache of need through him. Her tight wetness had clasped and caressed him with such exquisite perfection he could scarce think.
Now, she parted her thighs, inviting him, indulging him, and giving him access to anything he wanted.
And damnation… how he wanted.
His arousal burgeoning even more powerfully than before, he moaned his gratitude, then covered her with his hand and stroked his fingers through her petal-soft moisture.
Turning her head, she gasped against his neck, then gave him a wee love bite. Engulfed by a mad lust, he guided himself into her. She instantly arched again, shoving her derriere backward, demanding more. He thrust upward, embedding himself halfway inside her.
Even as she cried out, he growled into her ear. Holding her thighs spread wide, he slid forward again, with aching slowness. To give her the most intense pleasure, he forced himself to maintain a slow but persistent rhythm, gliding deeper each time. Her sweet throaty moans and gasps that spoke of her pleasure near drove him mad. Along with her drenching tightness, her obvious need for him spurred his own insane yearning. He could not get enough of her. Didn't know if he ever would.
After hooking her leg back over his, he skimmed his fingertips across her slippery swollen flesh. Her moans growing louder and her head lying on his arm, she turned and bit gently into his biceps muscle. His arousal climbing, he surged harder within her, deeper.
When the peak of pleasure seized Elspeth, her body clutched at his with delicate flutters of tightening muscles. Much as he yearned to let go and dive into his own release, he was not yet ready for this to end. He craved giving her even more pleasure than she could've ever imagined, so much that she couldn't even tolerate it. He wanted her brimming over with ecstasy.
Embedded within her, holding her tight, he halted while her climax ebbed, and then very gently and slowly started moving again.
"'Tis too much," she breathed.
"Nay, I'll go slow and easy." After stroking his hand up her body under her smock, he gently squeezed her beaded nipples. "I'd love to suckle these." But in this position, he could not reach them.
Continuing to tease and torment her, he felt the moment when the kindling of her arousal caught and flamed upward again. She thrust her arse against him.
After smoothly withdrawing, he slid deep and gradually increased the pacing.
"Aye, more." Her breath caught.
The waves of pleasure covered him as he surged into her even faster and harder than before, her cries intensifying. Her muscles gripped him, tugging at him, begging for his release.
The ecstasy that latched onto him spurred him to drive to her depths, over and over. Naught would allow him to pull away. He poured himself into her with an abandon he had never before experienced. Teeth clenched, he near drowned in the flood of overwhelming pleasure.
Moments later, when the rapture released him, he sucked in an expansive breath. Gradually, his thoughts returned, shocking him with what had just transpired.
Hell, who was he? He did not even know himself in this moment. How could Elspeth have completely transformed him into a different man?
Withdrawing from her, he realized she was the first woman he had poured himself into in years. He did not want bastards all about the country. And what if he got her with child? That thought did not alarm him as it should. He couldn't fathom his own bizarre reactions to everything. Couldn't even think straight. He'd figure it out later, he decided as sleep again overcame him.
"Chief MacKenzie." His name being called from a distance awoke Cyrus.
He drew in a deep breath as he noticed the weak dawn light filtering through the windows of the tower room. When he felt the warmth of Elspeth still sleeping beside him, 'twas as if he'd been punched in the chest. Saints! What sublime perfection last night had been.
But morn had arrived, and heaven had slipped away with the darkness. The hour was later than he usually awoke, and his guards obviously wondered where he was.
He carefully rolled off the narrow cot, trying not to wake her. Once on his feet, he observed her while straightening his clothing. She was beautiful while she slept… and at every other time he'd seen her.
He could not fathom his inability to resist her last night.
"M'laird!" Sounded like Reid's voice, shouting in the courtyard below.
He didn't have time to think about his and Elspeth's explosive encounter now. One floorboard squeaking slightly, he slipped toward the door, opened it and exited. Descending the stone turnpike steps, he soon reached the lower corridor. After seeing none of the guards about, he went to the hall.
Reid entered from outside. "Chief! There you are. I searched all over for you."
"I was in the tower room serving as lookout last night but then… fell asleep." He hated to lie, but he certainly couldn't tell Reid the truth. "What's happened?"
"Fraser left."
"Aye. 'Twas the plan."
"He slipped off alone!"
