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“Blair.” She whispered it.
He resumed the torturous caress. “Again. Say it again. Louder.”
She raised her voice a little. “Blair.”
“Better. And you will scream my name when you find your release.”
“My…?”
He took that most sensitive nubbin between his fingers and he squeezed. Something clenched within, deep in her core, and Roselyn longed for his fingers to be inside her tight channel again. She yearned to be filled, stretched, owned.
“Could you…? Blair, I need…”
“I know.” He continued to roll her sensitive flesh between his fingers, whilst he used his free hand to open that most secret place and plunged two digits into her again.
It was too much. Roselyn could no longer speak, could not even form a coherent thought. She could only feel as irresistible shudders rocked her slight form and her inner walls clenched helplessly around his fingers. She arched further, lifting her hips, pleading for something, anything…
“Oh, Blair. Blair, Blair,Blair!” She let out a keening wail as the sensations peaked and her body convulsed, then, gasping, she stilled.
Blair settled beside her and gathered her into his arms. Her bottom still hurt, indeed, her skin throbbed mercilessly from rubbing against the mattress but she did not care. Nothing mattered in that moment apart from the need to burrow as close into Blair as she could, to seek his warmth, his strength.
He kissed her hair. “That was just a taste of what I can offer you. Will you stay? With me?”
“I…” She buried her face against his chest, realising for the first time in this entire encounter that he was also naked. “Oh. Oh…” She splayed her hand against his chest and curled her fingers in the light dusting of hair she found there.
“You fancy a spot more explorin’? I canna say I blame you, in the circumstances.”
“May I?” Where did this unaccustomed boldness spring from?
“Aye, lass. You have spread yourself for me so ‘tis the least I can offer in return.”
“You are looking at me, but I cannot see you.”
“You can, with your fingers. And you have other senses which I ken you use to good effect.”
She smiled. “‘Tis true that I can hear you, and I can feel you. I recognise your scent whenever you are close.” She eased herself gingerly to her knees beside him, acutely conscious of his eyes on her nude and newly sated form. She leaned over and kissed his shoulder, then, on impulse, darted out her tongue to taste his skin. “You taste like wood smoke, and the forest at dawn.”
“Indeed,” he murmured. “Could I convince you to lie back and spread your thighs for me once more an’ I’ll tell you what you taste of?”
The very thought was scandalous. And wickedly enticing. Roselyn’s head whirled and she actually swayed as she contemplated the forbidden thing he seemingly wished to do to her, but when she inhaled his heady aroma again it was with a renewed determination to make different discoveries.
“I believe, sir, that I should thoroughly understand the goods on offer before making my choice.”
“I thought as much.”
“You will remain still for me? As I did for you?” She hoped, but was uncertain of his response. The McGregor was accustomed to control. He was not a man who would readily obey.
“I shall, aye. You deserve as much.”
“Thank you.” She shifted and placed both hands on his shoulders. “May I straddle you?”
She thought his answer might be somewhat obscene, though the strangled epithet was purely Gaelic in origin.
“Sir? Blair…?”
“Aye lass, you may if you wish but I willna be accountable for the outcome.”
“Just my hands. And my mouth.”
