“I’m glad.”
“Move your hand up and down.” Although he wasn’t sure how long he’d last if she did.
After a vibrant pause, she obeyed. Fire engulfed his body, and his balls tightened to agony, but he couldn’t summon the words to stop her.
“Tighter,” he growled, his hands fisting in the bedclothes.
Diarmid watched Fiona learn how to touch a man. Her face was stern with concentration, but the hectic color in her cheeks betrayed how what she did stirred her.
He cupped one lovely breast. She shivered under his touch, and the rhythmic squeezing faltered before she resumed his torment.
His thumb teased her nipple until it pearled. He wanted to take her into his mouth, but if he did, she might stop touching his dick.
She leaned in and kissed him. Her lips moved over his with a luscious sweetness that threatened to tip him over the edge.
“Fiona…” he groaned when she lifted away, her name both plea and demand. He raised his hand to catch her shoulder. “I cannae…”
“Show me, Diarmid.”
He caught her hand and lifted it away from him. “Lie back.”
As she complied, he couldn’t mistake her eagerness. He prayed this time she’d reach her climax. With him so close to the edge, he wouldn’t wager on it.
When he shifted over her, she opened her legs to welcome him. He bent to kiss her, silently asking for permission to continue. She returned his kiss, running her hands up and down his back, then to his shock, catching his buttocks and squeezing them.
With a shaking hand, he stroked her cleft. She was slick and ready. He wanted to bring her to orgasm again, but he’d reached the limit of his control. His urgency to be inside her made him blind to everything but the woman beneath him.
“Don’t make me wait,” she said breathlessly, hands clenching on his arse. ?
?I’ve never felt like this before.”
A reminder, should he need one, of what was at stake. Diarmid clasped her hips in tender hands. With a gentleness that belied his fierce need, he tilted her toward him. Instead of plunging into her as hunger demanded, he slid forward carefully. When hot wetness clasped the head of his cock, he tensed every muscle against spilling himself. With steady power, he forged ahead, until he was seated fully inside her.
Diarmid rose on his elbows to see her face. Fiona was flushed, and her mouth was red and parted as she gasped for air. With a sigh, she closed her eyes, and angled up in wordless encouragement.
He needed no better incitement.
***
Fiona felt cherished and complete, in a way she never had before. When she shifted, Diarmid settled more deeply. He stretched her, touching places Ian had never come near to discovering.
Also new was the emotional connection, even stronger than a physical connection that left her floundering. The mercifully rare encounters with her first husband had never impinged upon her essential self. Now her essential self was naked and vulnerable. The strangest element was that she wasn’t afraid, when fear was the air she’d breathed every day for the last ten years.
Diarmid’s thrusts shook her body and pressed her into the mattress. After that extraordinary explosion of delight when he kissed her between the legs, she recognized the swirling rise of arousal. But this was better because he was with her. Every time he slid deep, he became part of her in some way she didn’t understand, but couldn’t deny. The union extended beyond two bodies in a bed to verge on the holy.
When she lifted her hips to meet him, an immediate thrill rewarded her. Muttering something unintelligible, he caught her waist. Firm hands took her with him as he rolled onto his back. Now she was kneeling over Diarmid, with his body hard and insistent inside her.
“What on earth…”
Before she could shift away, he seized her hips in adamant hands. “Ride me, Fiona.”
“I can’t…” she said, even as this position pressed his length against new and needy parts of her.
A smile eased his tension. “Aye, ye can.” As the smile faded, dark eyes met hers with a piercing alertness that she felt to her bones. “This act has never been yours. Now it is. Use me for your pleasure.”
This agony of gratitude she suffered felt like so much more. He understood her better than she understood herself. If she wasn’t so avid for his possession, the idea would terrify her.
“Diarmid…” she said in a broken voice.