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“If you say so. I have no wish to rush you, but I’d be obliged if you might be getting on with it.”
“You are in a hurry to leave. I understand, you have duties, as laird. Perhaps we might resume this later.”
“And perhaps you might cease your prattling and let me fuck you. But failing that, please be assured I am in no particular hurry to be away.”
She stifled a giggle. She had no need of the gift of sight in this moment. She knew by the growl in his voice that he suffered and could only surmise that she was the cause. “Then I shall continue.”
Slowly, carefully, she lifted her knee and stretched her leg across his stomach. She was pleased to find him lean and sharply contoured and she was able to settle herself comfortably on his abdomen. The taut planes of his stomach pressed against her exposed core, reigniting her arousal. She rolled her hips to rub against him, conscious of her wetness, and she wondered at the unaccustomed pleasure to be derived from simple friction. Her palms found his shoulders again and she measured the width of them between her hands. Beneath her fingers the muscles and sinews flexed. He was solid, firm, and she detected both health and strength in his chiselled form. Despite his size and power though he had been gentle with her, almost from the moment they met.
“I know that you are tall, a full head taller than I am. Your shoulders are broad, yet your hips are not.”
“I am built for fighting, and for riding.”
“I suspect you have other fine qualities also.” She shuffled back a little, intending to explore his sculpted stomach, but came up short as something large, thick, and very solid pressed between her smarting buttocks. “Oh! Your… er, I believe that your, your… Shall I move, Blair?”
“My cock.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“I hesitate to call attention to your limited vocabulary, madam, but the word you are flailing about in search of is ‘cock.’ My cock, to be exact. And yes, please do feel free to move, though now that you have discovered that part of my anatomy I would prefer if you remain in contact with it. If you find the current position a tad uncomfortable given your recent chastisement you might like to take my cock in your hands.”
“But I do not know how…”
“I would be delighted to offer suggestions, my lady, if required. This is, after all, a voyage of discovery on your part and I would hate to hamper your quest for knowledge.”
Her curiosity was fuelled by his comment. Roselyn knelt upright and reached behind her so that her fingertips grazed the shaft of his engorged cock. It was a word with which she was, in fact, perfectly familiar, though she had never before found the need to utter it in any context not concerned with poultry. The angle was awkward though, and she could not manage to do more than explore the smooth texture of the skin which covered his erect penis.
“You may find it easier if you turn around,” suggested Blair helpfully.
“Of course,” she murmured. “Quite so.”
Chapter Seven
In fact Roselyn opted to settle back on the bed beside him, though her sole focus was the hard length of male potency now cradled between her hands. She had nothing with which to compare, but if she wrapped just one fist around it her fingers would not meet so she judged him to be large. She ran her hands the length of him, from the base of his cock to the rounded, smooth head, then back down again. He let out a long sigh which she interpreted as indicating approval. Accordingly, she repeated the action, then again for good measure. Blair’s cock lurched in her hands.
Roselyn was startled. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Nay, lass. That was good. Mind, should you be moved to reach a little lower and cup my balls I should not complain over much.”
Ever a diligent scholar, Roselyn was quick to heed his direction. She sought his balls and attempted to hold them in one hand though they seemed to possess a will of their own. Even so, she commenced a slow, steady massage whilst continuing to pump her other hand up and down the length of his shaft. She quickly realised that the head, that bulbous and smoothly rounded cap, was weeping with cool, slick liquid and becoming wetter with every stroke. Roselyn ran her thumb through the gathering moisture to spread it everywhere she could and she assumed that Blair’s moans signified his approval of that strategy.
His aroma enveloped her, the air redolent with the scent of arousal. Was it his, or hers? She could not be sure but it did not matter. The musky tang clung to her and she bent toward him to better inhale. The odour was heady, addictive… she needed more.
An idea occurred to her. He had said he would taste her, but why should she not know his flavours too? The scent sang to her of spices and freshness, but with a quality she believed to be uniquely male. She would know it better, understand this new experience more completely if she were to make use of all her senses. It was practical, prudent even… She grasped him firmly in her hand and leaned down even more.
At first she was tentative, just drawing the tip of her tongue through the wetness which coated his cock.
Blair muttered that Gaelic word again, adding in several more before he wrapped a great hank of her hair around his hand. He did not pull on it though, nor did he force her head forward. He simply held it, held her.
Gaining in confidence, Roselyn savoured the salty taste on her tongue, then she parted her lips. She took him in, just the head at first. His cock stretched her mouth, but she managed. She sucked on it as though it were a sweetmeat, and decided the similarities were striking enough. The taste was exceptional, a spicy tang which grew stronger as she increased the suction. She turned her face to the side so the head slipped into the pocket of her inner cheek and she was able to take more of the shaft. She used her hand to pump that portion remaining outside, at the same time squeezing the heavy orbs which nestled against her other palm.
Blair tightened his grip on her hair, which heightened her arousal. She was powerful, in control of what was happening between them, but only so long as he permitted it. At any moment he could haul her off or ram her face down, forcing her to take him deeper. He did neither, though he twisted more of her hair around his hand.
He thrust up with his hips, not hard, but enough to signal that he wanted more from her. Roselyn found added momentum, squeezed a fraction harder, sucked that little bit more.
“Sweetheart… you need to stop now.” His tone was muffled, pained almost.
Roselyn released him from her mouth. Had she done something wrong?
