She was lying on her back, he on his side next to her when they finally broke apart. Each of them gasping, their chests heaving. He was breathing so hard, he didn’t think he would ever recover. He rested his forehead against hers, fighting a war within himself that crossed the line of what he wanted to do and what he kenned was right.
“This shouldnae have happened,” he said, hating the words as they left his lips. They tasted sour, bitter. Like the lies they were.
Alana didn’t say aught. She didn’t tell him to back away. To stop touching her. To leave her alone. Instead, she reached up and, with a gentle hand, stroked his cheek. Rory closed his eyes and leaned into her soft touch.
It was heaven.
Neither of them moved. They stayed that way until Rory thought he was going to scream in desperation. In want.
When Alana lifted and pressed her lips against his, Rory kenned there was no going back. He would not return from this. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. He only kenned that he wanted to lose himself in Alana Duran more than aught he had ever wanted in his life afore.
He scooped her up in his arms, and she wrapped her legs aroundhim with a squeal. “Where are we going?” She asked, her voice husky.
Kissing the tip of her nose, he smiled. “Ye’ll see.”
He carried her through the trees, to a spring that he kenned was near there. It drained into a crystal blue pool of water.
“’Tis beautiful,” she said, craning her neck to peer into the water. The spring wasn’t large, nor was the pool. Instead, they offered an intimate place for two people to splash around, amongst other things. But most importantly, the small size of the pool meant that the water wouldn’t be nearly as cold as other, larger bodies.
Setting Alana down on her feet, careful not to agitate her ankle, he smiled and tugged off his tunic. “Ye can say nay. I willnae be angry.”
With wide eyes, she shook her head, tentatively reaching out her hands, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. Her fingertips brushed over his pectorals, making the muscles jump. She flattened her hands so her palms were splayed out over his skin as she dragged them down, lower, to his abdominal muscles, which contracted under her touch. He bit back the groan her touch elicited. He snatched her hands up and kissed her fingers greedily.
“Yer fingers are like magic, bewitching me until I cannae think straight.”
She gave him a wicked smile. “I believe I rather like the sound of that.”
“Ye are a naughty minx, Bluebell.” He pulled her closer and was happy that she allowed it and didn’t push away. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her so their lips could touch, gently, softly. So different from the feelings warring inside of him. He didn’t want gentle. He didn’t want soft. He wanted to capture her mouth in a deep kiss that would leave nay doubt of his feelings for her. He wanted to drive into her heat and lose himself in the sensation of her milking his cock.
Alana stepped away, dipping her head, and looking up at him through lowered lashes. She lifted her skirts, slowly revealing her legsas she raised them higher and higher. The pale, smooth skin of her calves teased him first, afore her knees were bared, and then, Rory sucked in a breath betwixt his teeth, her thighs. His breath escaped in a sharp hiss.
Noticing his reaction, Alana’s smile grew wider, then she dropped her skirts and covered all the treasure she had just so brazenly uncovered for him to get a glimpse at.
“Ye tease me,” he accused.
“Do I? I think no’.”
He reached out and pulled her to him. “Ye do. I dinnae like it,” he growled, and nuzzled her neck.
She pushed off his chest. “Ye didnae like what ye saw?” Her brows furrowed and she looked hurt.
“Och, no’ like ye are thinking. I enjoyed what I saw verra much. I didnae like it when ye hid yerself from my gaze.”
“Ah,” she purred, and the sound went straight to his hardening manhood, straining against his trews. “’Tis a reason for that.”
“Aye?” He questioned.
Alana nodded. “Surely, ye dinnae think I can pull my skirts o’er my head.” She chuckled. “Nay, I must slide them down my hips.”
Rory closed his eyes on a groan at her words. Did she ken how much her talk was making his body roar to life?
“Do ye need help with such a task?” He asked, his voice a hoarse whisper.
She tilted her head, meeting his gaze, and then looked toward the water, and shivered. “It looks cold.”
“’Tis no’. The water here is actually quite warm. I believe ye will find it refreshing.”
She lifted a brow as if she didn’t believe him.
