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When he paused, she said, ‘That’s the fourth time you kissed me.’
‘I didn’t know you’d been counting. You didn’t say anything about the other times. Do you like it?’
‘Aye, enough to want to do it again.’ She reached her mouth to his, and he responded.
‘Was I the first man you ever kissed?’ he said.
‘Aye, did I do it wrong?’
‘No, of course not. You are perfect, so perfect in fact that I find myself unable to stop doing it.’
A good while later, as Kenna grew hotter and hotter, Conall put his head into the nape of her neck and breathed, ‘Be careful, Kenna. You don’t want to awaken the beast in me.’
‘Don’t I?’ she replied, hardly believing she had said such a thing.
Recklessness overtook Kenna. This freedom, the first she had ever had, might not last, for she had never been a lucky person. If her family caught up with her, she would be dragged back to be de-flowered by a foul old man, or her father would kill her. There was every chance she would die before she ever knew what it was like to have a man she desired. So she determined to taste whatever life had to offer while she had the chance. If she was to gift her maidenhead to anyone, it would be Conall.
Yes, he would be the one. She thought of him inside her, his hands, brisk and strong, moving over every inch of her, exploring all she had to give. At that moment, she decided that she would let him take her, with no promises made, no expectation of love or certainty of a future. And if she died tomorrow or the next day or the next, she would have no regrets. It could only be him, for, with Conall, she knew it would be glorious.
His hardness was pressing into her, his mouth claiming hers, so all she had to do was offer herself to him, just give in to temptation and have him. Slowly, fearing rejection, she opened her legs.
‘Please, Conall, I want it to be you. I want you to be the first and the last.’
He did not hesitate, and when he started to make love to her in earnest, kissing and touching her all over in the darkness, he was so passionate that Kenna felt as though she was being devoured by a big, black beast. Flashes of lightning lit the cottage, giving his face a wicked look as he readied himself to enter her.
‘You are so very lovely, Kenna. Are you sure you want me?’ he gasped into her mouth.
She had wanted Conall from the first moment she saw him, flung at her feet in the mud. She had let herself dream of this moment with him and had imagined it would be a quiet, gentle thing, but it was not. She felt frantic and desperate. She wanted to couple with him so badly, overcome with a throbbing, passionate need and with death and ruin stalking her. Now it was exciting, wild and wonderful in its intensity.
Conall knew he shouldn’t have done it, but Kenna made him feel things he had never felt before. He was a confused mix of emotions. Tenderness, admiration and gentleness warred with base lust of the most overwhelming kind and an urge to take, to possess, as though she were some tender piece of meat and he a slavering wolf. This lovely girl, soft, pretty, kind, had seen him at his lowest ebb, seen his utter humiliation, his pain, his fear. For some strange reason, he wanted to wipe that from her mind by taking her and showing her how he could be as a lover, masterful, in control of her pleasure. He wanted Kenna at his mercy, begging him not to stop. He wanted to make her realise her own beauty. More than anything, he wanted to be her lord and master. His pride demanded it.
Conall stroked her upper leg slowly, carefully, as if he were calming a skittish horse while his thumb found the smooth curve of her hips. He felt his way all over her, finding her mouth and following the curve of her throat down to her budding, sweet breasts. They were small and seemed eager in his hands, just filling them, the nipples so soft as to be almost made of nothing until they hardened under his stroking thumb. His mouth found one and as her arousal grew, the feel of it under his tongue reminded him of the feel of the blackberries in his mouth, puckered, firm, oh so sweet. He could not pull away, and he sucked and stroked as her moans grew louder, her fingers digging into his hair. There was heat coming from her where her sex was pressed against his chest, and he could smell Kenna’s womanly scent, musky, tantalizing and irresistible. Smiling to himself in the dark, Conall moved lower.
At first, when he spread her legs, and his fingers found her, she sat up and protested. ‘Conall you can’t. ‘Tis too shameful.’
‘Trust me, you will like this.’
He opened her gently and ran the tip of his finger over her slowly, ever so slowly, again and again, circling it around until she grew slick under his hand. When she gasped and arched her back, he replaced it with his tongue, all over her, and she became helpless under his touch. All she could say was ‘oh, oh,’ before she laid back down, moaning louder as, over and over, he licked and gently stroked her, revelling in her sweetness. Warming to his task, Conall spread her legs wide and held her down as she peaked against his mouth, so hard, so completely, it turned his cock to stone. Nails, like little daggers, dug into his shoulders, and it made him wild with desire.
He shouldn’t do it, but she aroused him so. He felt as though there was a raging beast of lust inside him, more than he could control, and so he wiped his hand across his mouth and dragged her down until his mouth found hers again. All she could do was gasp out his name.
Conall took her hand and pulled it down to his cock. Her cold fingers encircled it boldly. ‘Oh,’ she said, and he could almost feel her smile in the darkness. ‘Harder Kenna, squeeze me harder, hold me tight.’ She squeezed her fingers around him, and he grew tight with desire. He opened her legs wide.
‘Say my name, Kenna, when I take you, say it. Scream it out, for there’s no one to hear, save me and the storm.’
‘I’ll do anything you want, Conall, anything,’ she gasped.
Anything. Like let him dishonour her, push himself inside her, hurt her and not just physically. Kenna was limp in his arms now, compliant and so trusting. Cold shame washed over him. How could he abuse such trust? Should he? Was that all he was, after everything she had done for him, everything she had risked to save his life, just a debauched, selfish nothing, a dirty user of women, someone who would befoul her purity?
‘Don’t stop, please. I want you to,’ she begged.
Conall hesitated, breathing hard into her face, his weight crushing her small, soft body.
‘No, Kenna. I shouldn’t. I…I can’t do it.’
‘But I want you to. I said you could.’
‘No.’ His voice was gruff with the effort of controlling his desire. ‘No, I can’t. This was a mistake.’ He pushed himself off her and lay staring up at the ceiling, breathing hard.
