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Warmth spread across Ailsa’s chest. The flesh between her thighs pulsed and ached, and her lower belly fluttered. And when he looked at her like that, she wanted to pounce on him.
She restrained herself. Instead, rising to her feet, she unbuckled her belt. She wore two layers of sleeveless tunics—a thinner undertunic, and a heavier woolen one on top. Dropping her belt to the floor, she hauled her clothing over her head and heeled off her boots. And then, naked except for her single bronze arm ring, she climbed back onto his lap.
His rod thrust up between them, growing stiffer with each passing moment.
Trying to ignore it, Ailsa unlaced his vest and pulled it off.
She then traced her hands over the hard-muscled ridges and planes of his chest and shoulders, her fingertips tingling at the feel of his skin. She took her time, drawing her exploration out.
Finally, Darach cupped her breasts, stroking her hard nipples with his thumbs while he watched her face. His look was intense, as if he was charting her every reaction.
Ailsa shivered as he rolled her nipples between forefinger and thumb, her back arching now.
“My beautiful lass,” he breathed, as one hand slid down from her breasts, over her belly, and between her thighs to where she was wet and aching for him. “Look at you … so ready for me.”
He stroked her there, his pupils dilating as she whimpered. He then lifted her up with his other hand and slid two fingers deep inside her, curling them forward.
Ailsa gasped, bucking against him. He was touching an exquisitely sensitive place—one that made her want to bear down on him, to take his fingers deeper. However, he held her there, sliding his fingers in and out, and hitting that spot each time he thrust deep.
A raw sound vibrated through the alcove. Was that her?
She was writhing now against his hand, desperate for more.
Grunting her name, Darach slid his fingers free, raised her over him, and pushed her slowly down upon his now rigid prick.
This position brought him deep, so deep she ached.
Breathing hard, as sweat rose across her skin, she lifted her chin.
Their eyes locked, and she saw the beast rise in the depths of his gaze: the irises had turned gold, the pupils now vertical slits. His grip on her hips tightened.
Excitement arched up through Ailsa in response.
And then, still holding his gaze fast, she ground herself down on him.
Aye, that was it. She craved to be closer to him.
Take all the time you want. He had no idea what his words meant to her—how ‘seen’ he made her feel.
The ache in her womb started to pulse.
Placing her hands on his shoulders, she pushed herself up his length before bearing down on him once more.
The force of it stole her breath, made her spine arch, even as her nails dug into his skin.
He hissed, his fingers clenching against her flesh, and he took over, lifting her up this time and then driving her down.
Ailsa shuddered. The ache shifted now, slipping into a pulsing sensation that made her belly twist.
She raked her fingers down his back then, hard enough to hurt.
He jolted against her, a low, deep growl rumbling through his chest.
Glancing down at where his hands still gripped her, she saw the tips of claws, pushing through the flesh between his knuckles.
The beast was rising, but she wasn’t scared.
She knew he could leash it, could let it out just enough to thrill her.
