Page 70 of Walk on the Wildsyde

“I’m glad,” he said, amused by how quickly she had taken to such decadent treats. “But I’m going to make it even better,” he added, aware there was a wicked note in his voice.

She regarded him sceptically but said nothing until he showed her the cake of soap in his hand.

“Oh,” she said, swallowing visibly. “I… I can do that myself, you know.”

Hamilton bit back a laugh at her obvious confusion. “Dinnae fash, lassie. It’s my duty to care for ye now, as yer husband, ye ken. So, will ye let me do so?”

“If… If you want to, certainly,” she said. “It’s only Mrs Macready and Flora never mentioned that… that you would,” she added hesitantly.

“Aye, well, I’m glad they gave ye the basics, I suppose, but I reckon they’ll have left a good deal out that we shall explore together.”

“Like washing me.”

“Aye, exactly.” Hamilton lathered the soap in his hands and then frowned as a thought occurred to him. “They didnae frighten ye?”

She smiled at that and shook her head. “No. They were very kind, though Flora made me blush terribly,” she added with a laugh.

“Not as much as I shall,” he promised her, leaning in to press his mouth to her lips.

She welcomed his kiss, far more practised now as she slid her tongue against his, welcoming him to explore further. With reluctance, Hamilton drew away, eager to touch what was so tantalisingly displayed before him.

Moving slightly behind her, he slid his soapy palms over her shoulders and arms, forcing himself to wait and revelling in the feel of her slick skin. By the time his hands coasted over her breasts, his cock was clamouring for attention, and the sound of her quick intake of breath did nothing to ease its plight. His own breathing was hardly steady either, and not for the first time he congratulated the Scot’s race for wearing kilts, so his straining body did not have to suffer the confines of breaches. He sighed, caressing and squeezing the delicious swells, delighting in the feel of the hard buds of her nipples as they tightened at his touch.

“Oh, that’s blissful,” she said dreamily.

“Aye,” Hamilton replied, in perfect accord with the statement. “Lord, but ye are perfect,” he whispered, nuzzling into her ear and nipping at the lobe.

“Not in the l-least,” she stammered. “I have knobbly knees,” she said sadly.

Hamilton raised his head, staring at the knees before him, which looked as smooth and lovely as the rest of her. “Ye have rocks in yer heid if ye think that. I never saw such pretty knees, and I have an excellent pair of my own by which to judge,” he added, for the sole purpose of making her laugh.

It worked, and she slanted a look up at him. “You really do,” she admitted.

“Aye, my da says Ma married him purely on account of his knees.”

She burst out laughing at that, which made his hands slip on her glistening skin and her soft parts wobble enticingly. “She did not!”

“Aye, it’s true! I swear it. Ye ask her yerself,” he told her, suddenly distracted by having found her belly button. He wriggled a finger inside and she squealed, doubling up.

“No! No!” she protested.

“Ah, ye are ticklish,” he said with satisfaction. “That’s interesting.”

“I am and you are not to tickle me,” she said, trying her best to sound fierce and failing utterly.

“Whatever ye say,” he murmured in her ear, licking the outer shell and watching shivers race over her skin. He fell silent then as his hands coasted lower, sliding into the little thatch of curls. He cupped her with his hand, a possessive sense of delight stealing over him. “I remember that night, when I touched ye for the first time? I have thought of it every night since, much of the daytime too. Do ye think of it too?”

“I could hardly forget such a thing,” she said, her voice muffled by his shirt sleeve, for she had turned her scarlet face against his arm. “And yes, of course I have thought of it.”

“I remember every moment, every caress,” he said, his voice growing hoarse. “I remember how ye came for me so prettily. Do it again, lassie. Show me how ye like my touch.”

She did as he asked, rewarding him by spreading her legs wider and raising her hips, seeking his touch and sighing with pleasure as he happily gave her what she wanted. Hamilton groaned as he slid a finger inside her, feeling her soft flesh closing around him and imagining how it would feel to lose himself in her. The impatience to do so was a sore temptation, but he was not about to rob either of them of pleasure of anticipation, so he continued to touch her slowly, carefully, knowing they had all the time in the world. His free hand toyed with her breast, pinching her nipple gently and caressing the plump swell that fit his hand so perfectly. Clara responded to his touch without reserve, making his heart soar with the trust she put in him, with the simple pride of knowing such a woman loved him.

“That’s the way,” he urged, kissing her temple. “Give yerself over to pleasure, to me.”

She did, taking him at his word, crying out and convulsing under his touch as the water around her rippled and sloshed against the sides and she clung to his arms, making his shirt sleeve sodden, not that he gave a damn. The sight of her taking her own pleasure was the most marvellous thing he’d ever seen in his entire life. Hamilton leaned over the bath, capturing her mouth, kissing her hard and deep, mad with joy and lust and need as the desire to pull her from the bath and take her there and then on the tiled floor was temptation beyond bearing.

He was breathing as hard as she by the time the waves of pleasure subsided, his body aching with need. “Come then, mo leannan. Out ye get, or I shall have to climb in with ye and it will be a bit of squeeze, I’m afraid.”