Through the storm of arousal swirling through his veins, he registered that she seemed content to remain in Scotland with him. Then all coherent thought fled as she stood in front of him and began to undo his belt. The lingering seduction was taking its toll on her, too. Her usually deft hands were unsteady, and
the time she spent loosening the buckle turned into an exercise in excruciating self-control for Hamish.
Finally… Finally she slid the belt free. His blue and gold Douglas plaid slid to the floor in a colorful heap.
"Goodness me…" she whispered. "No wonder you’ve been huffing and puffing like an overworked draft horse."
He gave a grunt of wry amusement. "Goodness has nothing to do with it."
"Oh, I hope not." She reached out and curled her fingers around his throbbing dick. Reaction jolted through him and turned the world red hot. He thrust his hips forward in encouragement.
Her hand formed a fist and began to move up and down, milking him. He closed his eyes, giving himself up to flaring delight. She’d touched him before, and he’d shown her what gave him pleasure. Now she turned those lessons upon him with a few variations of her own that had him shaking and panting like a man in a fever.
"If you…keep doing…that…this is going…to be…a quick encounter," he bit out as he braced against spilling into her hand.
Her thumb teased the sensitive head, already slick with moisture. "I love that I make you burn."
Her voice rang with new confidence. He opened hazy eyes to see her drop to her knees in front of him. Surely she wouldn’t…
By God, it turned out she would.
A long guttural sound of surrender escaped him, as she fitted her lips around the head and her fingers encircled the base. He staggered and reached for her shoulders.
The slide of her tongue on his swollen flesh struck him like cannon fire, then the world turned scarlet as she tentatively sucked. When she increased the pressure, he tangled shaking hands in her thick hair.
For endless blazing seconds, Hamish submitted to her clumsy, arousing, glorious attentions. He was so close, yet he couldn’t come in her mouth. She’d blasted through barriers he’d imagined no lady would cross. But that would be a step too far. He couldn’t bear to think that anything he did might repulse or frighten her.
"Emily…" His fingers tightened on her scalp. "Emily, sweetheart, you must stop."
With voluptuous slowness, she released him. He’d always thought her pretty. Now on her knees before him, her hair a tangled mess, her eyes heavy with desire, and her mouth damp and swollen after pleasuring him, she was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.
"Don’t you like it?" Her husky question almost made him lose himself.
"I like it too much." He bent and kissed her with a succulent carnality that did nothing to promote control. Her lips tasted of salt and musk. The knowledge that she’d been willing to do that for him shuddered through him like a tidal wave.
"Lie on the chaise longue," he said roughly, too stirred up for politeness.
Dark eyebrows arched with a haughtiness that reminded him of the girl he’d known in London. She’d been exciting then, but he’d never have imagined quite how exciting she’d end up becoming. "No, you lie on the chaise longue."
Disbelief turned Hamish as still as a rock. "What the devil…"
"I want to sit on you."
"Sit?"
She looked disconcerted. "Won’t the physics work?"
What an Emily question. He’d laugh, if he wasn’t so close to the brink. "Yes, it will work."
"Then?"
He seized her in his arms and kissed her with all the astounded gratitude rushing through him. He’d called her exciting? He’d had no idea.
"Hamish…" she gasped, looking delightfully rumpled.
He released her and arranged himself on the chaise. When he spread out before her, her sizzling survey made his cock even harder. He struggled to hold himself in. In return for her extraordinary generosity, he owed her pleasure. Anyway, he wanted to be inside her when he spilled his seed. A week of wedded bliss had convinced him that nothing compared to the feeling of his wife’s muscles gripping him as he lost himself.
She crossed to straddle him, hitching her skirts to give him a glimpse of the sweet nest of curls below her stomach.