Page 55 of Forever My Lass

He was certain her threat was a bluff, but he’d not been willing to take the chance. He needed her too much to deny himself the delights of her beautiful body. A low moan whispered out of her, and he responded to the cry by increasing the pace of his strokes. Her muscles tightened around him with an intensity that caused him to draw in a sharp hiss of air.

Christ almighty, the woman already had him on the edge of spilling his seed. Almost as if she could read his mind, her body contracted around him again. A hot, velvety vise could not have felt more punishing or intensely pleasurable. Soft fingers dug into his buttocks as she urged him to move faster.

Unable to refuse her, a foggy cloud of red-hot desire swept over him, and his body drove into hers at a blistering pace. Nothing existed outside of the soft musk of her desire, the taste of her sweet mouth against his, and the small mewls of rapture pouring out of her. The quiet moans grew in strength, and she bucked upward and cried out his name.

Shuddering beneath him, her hot core gripped him tightly before it eased only to flex around him a second later with greater strength. With each contraction around his cock, she pulled him closer and closer to his own release. Fast and hard, he pounded his body into hers. His ballocks drew up and tightened against the base of his cock until he uttered a restrained cry of release and throbbed inside her.

For a long moment, he hovered over her, his hands braced on either side of her. She was still shuddering around him, and he jerked as a hard spasm clenched at him pleasantly. Forehead pressed into hers, he breathed in the sweet, fragrant heat of her and enjoyed the ragged sound of her breathing. It was a sign that he’d satisfied her as much as she had him. Her beautiful breasts rose and fell rapidly as the aftereffects of their lovemaking slowly subsided.

Iain kissed her deeply then rolled away from her and fell backward into the mattress beside her. The silence stretched out between them with only their breathing breaking the quiet. Iain turned his head toward Madeline to see her staring up at the ceiling. Stretching out his hand, his fingers brushed across her cheek. She inhaled, then exhaled a deep breath before she looked at him. For a brief second, he saw an emotion flicker in her gaze that puzzled him.

“Do ye regret giving yourself tae me, mo bhòidhchead fuilt dorcha?” The question tugged a small smile to her beautiful lips.

“No, I have no regrets.” She paused for a second as a frown furrowed her brow. “And I think it’s time you tell me exactly what mo bhòidhchead fuilt dorcha means.”

Iain chuckled at her mangled pronunciation. The glare she sent him made him laugh harder. He reached out to slide his fingers through her short, silky hair.

“It means my dark-haired beauty.”

“Oh.”

He smiled at her soft gasp of surprise as her eyes widen, and pink color flooded her cheeks. A second later, she turned her head away from him. Iain went up on one elbow to lean down and kiss a cheek still aflame with color. Something resembling tenderness barreled through him.

“Ye disapprove, mo leannan?”

“What does that one mean?” She didn’t look at him. The pink in her cheeks flared again, and he chuckled.

“Sweetheart.” When he defined the Gaelic word, he waited for her to smile at him, but Madeline continued to stare up at the ceiling. Puzzled by her silence and stoic reaction, Iain eyed her with curiosity. “Do ye find that objectionable?”

“Objectionable?” Madeline jerked her head toward him as if he’d pulled her out of her thoughts. What he thought might be sadness flickered in her gaze. It vanished the moment she laughed.

“Not at all. What woman doesn’t like to be called beautiful.”

She looked back up at the ceiling again. There had been just the slightest bit of skepticism in her voice, and he frowned. Annoyed by her reply, Iain narrowed his gaze at her. Did she really believe his compliments were frivolous or insincere? They weren’t.

“I would nae say something I dinnae believe, Madeline.” At the quiet indignation in his voice, she turned her head to meet his gaze.

“Then I’ll simply say thank you for the compliment.”

Her remorse mollified his irritation, as he stared into her lovely eyes. Once more he thought he saw sadness flicker in their brown depths before she looked away. It made it impossible for him to shake off the idea she was hiding something from him. From the first moment he’d met her, Madeline had been an open book. Her facial expressions, her posture, and her eyes had always given him enough information for him to determine what she was thinking.

But tonight was different. There was a distance between them that hadn’t been there prior to today or even this morning. She’d locked off a part of herself that he couldn’t see, let alone touch. Even when she’d responded to his caresses a few moments ago with such wild abandon, he was certain she’d been holding something back from him.

“Madeline, will ye nae tell me what troubles you?” The soft question was answered with a harsh breath of exasperation blowing past her lovely lips. The look she sent him was almost one of antipathy.

“Christ almighty, Iain, I’ve already told you there is nothing wrong.” The barely restrained sharpness in her voice would have made others think she was simply irritated at his pressuring her. But the emotions that flashed and vanished in her gaze only strengthened his belief she wasn’t telling him the truth. Something was wrong, he was certain of it. Frustration sailed through him as he gritted his teeth at her obstinate refusal to tell him what he wanted to know.

“Your eyes betray you, mo bhòidhchead fuilt dorcha.”

His response made her stiffen, and Madeline’s gaze locked with his for a long moment. In a swift, unexpected movement, she rolled over on top of him to straddle his waist. Pushing him deeper into the mattress a mischievous smile with just a hint of exasperation touched her mouth.

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?”

Not even a fey princess could have smiled at him so enticingly. He’d seen this particular smile before when she was teasing Grace or Ainslie. The only time she’d ever directed the power and brilliance of it in his direction had been the day after his return from Aberdeen.

The smile on her rosy lips as she’d taunted him during their game of croquet held the same force now as it had that day. He’d been willing to swear a sledgehammer had hit his chest, but tonight something about her teasing was different. The mischief tilting her lips wasn’t reflected in her brown eyes as she stared down at him.

The thought had barely filtered through his brain when she lowered her head and kissed him lightly. Before he could respond or deepen the sweet touch of her lips against his, her mouth glided over his cheek until it brushed against his ear.