“I want you fully ready,” he says. “Ready to take me.”
“One more question?” I ask, then remembering what he’s instructed. “Please?”
He nods. “Aye.”
“Will it hurt?”
He holds my gaze, and his hand cups my breast. “It will hurt like this,” he says. “Pay attention.”
Pay attention? I’m hardly distracted. But I nod.
He brings his mouth to my nipple, clamps the peaked bud between his teeth, and gives a quick, sharp bite. I hiss in pain, but before it’s even registered, he’s suckling my nipple. The pain quickly shifts to pleasure. My pulse spikes, and I’m trembling beneath him.
“It will hurt, lass,” he says, his voice tender but determined. “And then I’ll make it better. But before then, I’ll ensure you’re ready for me.”
I wonder what that means, but I’ve exhausted my limited questions. So I only nod. Holding my gaze, he returns to my breasts, licking and suckling, weighing them in his rough, large palms, until wetness forms between my thighs, and I’m swollen with need. Is this what he means? I’m slick and swollen and aching, though I’m still a little nervous.
He rocks his hips against mine, then kisses me, gently at first before he slides his tongue in my mouth. I shiver at the intimacy, my pulse racing. My eyes close involuntarily as I drown in his kiss, and my heart beats quicker.
He takes his mouth off mine to whisper in my ear, the guttural Gaelic of his homeland, and somehow the words prepare me as much as his ministrations.
“Spread your legs, lass.”
I open my legs, welcoming his expert, purposeful touch. While suckling my nipples, he fingers my swollen folds. My hips writhe as ecstasy builds, needing more, so much more, when he dips his fingers lower. It feels so intimate, I duck my head from him, suddenly shy and nervous.
“Look at me, Caitlin,” he orders, just as he thrusts two fingers into my core. “Christ, you’re sopping.”
Does that mean I’m ready?
I feel ready. But how would I know?
He sounds pleased with that, though, so I only nod. His eyes crinkle at the edges and he cups my jaw, bringing his mouth to mine again. My pulse quickens at the softness of his lips and roughness of his whiskers, his masculine scent pervading my senses. There’s a hopeless possession in his kiss, as if he’s staking his claim with his mouth on mine, and I can tell he’s holding himself back, that he doesn’t want to hurt me.
While still kissing me, he drags the heel of his hand down my belly, past my pelvis, and gently fingers the curls at my entrance, before he glides his fingers in my core once more. He pumps gently, in and out, sending frissons of heat and awareness through me.
Like that. It’ll be like that, only his fingers are… much, much smaller.
All I’ve learned of human anatomy and biology, I learned from old, hardcover books from the library I read when I hit puberty. The dusty tomes were clinical and detached, and hardly prepared me for what I’m about to do.
He brings his mouth to my ear. “I want to fuck you, sweet girl. I want my cock inside you. Now.”
I nod. Even though I’m holding my breath in anxious fear, I want that, too. I want to feel it. I want to own this. I want the togetherness.
“I won’t ever forget this, Caitlin,” he whispers, his brogue thick with lust and need. “I won’t ever forget how you gave this to me. That you trusted me.”
“I will love you, Keenan. I may already.”
As soon as I say the words, I want to take them back. Is that the least romantic thing any woman on the verge of giving up her virginity has ever said?
“I will love you as well, Caitlin. And I may already.”
Then we’re laughing and holding each other in this quiet interim before our moment, his forehead touching mine and our breaths mingling like wind and fog.
“Are you ready?”
I don’t know. Am I? But trusting him means taking this leap of faith.
So I swallow my fear, and take a deep breath, and whisper the words I know he needs to hear. “Yes, sir.”
It was the right choice.
He holds me to him, chest to chest, my naked skin against his hard, firm body. Bracing himself on one arm beside me, he glides the tip of his cock at my entrance, stroking up and down until I tremble with anticipation. I’m holding my breath, bracing for the pain he promised, but he takes it so slowly it’s maddening. Just the very tip, then again. I spread my legs further, as if to silently welcome him in, and he takes the invitation. His hands come to mine, our fingers entwine, and he pushes his swollen cock inside me.
I gasp with the pain and sensation. I’m splitting in two, the ache between my thighs growing when he pumps his hips. He said he’d make it better.