I shouldnae allow this. I mustnae let him continue—Those quiet warnings stood no chance against the horde of pleasure that marched through her. The longer Noah’s lips were locked to hers, and his fingertips played upon the harp of her pleasure, the easier it was for everything else to vanish from her mind. Bygones could be bygones. All she wanted was him. It had, after all, been her original plan to get him to fall in love with her. However, his skill in pleasing her might have been more than she’d bargained for.
He proved himself to be truly gifted as the hand beneath her skirts continued to strum, while his other hand returned to her face, cradling her cheek as his kiss ravished her mouth. His fingertips slipped gracefully from there, down her neck. His touch was like silk, causing her to tremble violently.
Saoirse tried to catch her breath, but she couldn’t, not when she wanted him so badly. All of him. The parts she had seen while he lay naked upon his bed. It was as if his tongue grazed over more than just her lips; it was like he was caressing every inch of her body, tasting her, relishing her.
Suddenly, his intimate attentions shifted. His fingers slipped further along her petals, while his thumb replaced the delicious pressure on her secret nub. Saoirse dug her fingers deeper into his hair, balling her hands into tight little fists. And as he pressed a finger inside her, she was overcome with such pleasure that she wouldn’t have been able to tell him her own name if he’d asked.
“Is that too much?” he growled, swallowing loudly.
She shook her head. “Nay. Goodness, nay.”
If anything, she wanted him to rip her clothes off her body, there and then. With the sensation of part of him inside her, she could see the fantasy so clearly as it played out in her mind. The pieces of the carnal puzzle weren’t difficult to put together.
Releasing a strangled groan, he sank another finger inside her, giving her a moment to adjust to the sensation. She was grateful for the sturdiness of his thighs, for if they’d been standing, she would surely have buckled.
“I want ye,” Noah said, gasping for air. “I want ye so much.”
She couldn’t speak, her throat closing around the cry that she wanted to unleash. So, she did the only thing she could do, to let him know she felt the same way. Grasping his face, she kissed him fiercely, bruising her lips against his.
His arm wrapped around her waist, steadying her as his fingers began to move slowly back and forth. His thumb, however, followed a rhythm all its own. And though she couldn’t explain it, it felt like every strum and circle was building to a great conclusion, like drums rolling to announce a celebration.
As that conclusion raced through her, turning her blood, her muscles, her body into an orchestra that played so ferociously that she could hardly bear it, she couldn’t have prepared herself for what came next; pure pleasure, raw and powerful, thundering through her veins.
Her nails dug into Noah’s shoulders as the bliss struck her like a wave, shaking her to her core. She’d never known anything like it. It was like every wonderful thing colliding at once.
“Noah!” she cried out, unable and unwilling to stifle herself.
He caught the very end of her cry with his lips, crushing a kiss against her mouth as the pleasure built and built. Yet, like any wave, the ocean of her body claimed it back. Bit by bit, the pleasure faded, retreating until it left her on the shores of this new experience, breathless and weak.
She slumped against Noah, as he carefully drew his hand from beneath her skirts and wrapped her in a tight embrace. She gripped him to her, kissing the heat of his neck. A swift pulse beat against her lips.
Then, to her surprise, he rose up from the chair. One arm remained around her waist, while his free hand moved to her face. Her feet touched the floor, but she doubted if she’d be able to walk without toppling over.
“What was—” she was about to ask, but he cut her off.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, gasping for air.
“For what?” Saoirse tried to say, without appearing to be overly exerted. She failed miserably: her voice ragged.
“This,” he panted. His eyes smoldered with a lust she had never seen before. Chewing on her lower lip, she noticed the way his eyes twitched as they lingered on her lips. Her mouth pulsed with every beating of her heart, swollen from Noah’s powerful kiss.
She chuckled. “I can assure ye, ye’ve got nothin’ to be sorry for.”
“Aye, I do. I shouldnae have done that,” he mumbled, grazing his thumb across her cheek.
Batting her eyelashes, she tried to control her erratic breathing, but she couldn’t. Her chest rose and fell so quickly that she wondered how it was she didn’t faint. With her head swimming and dazed, she tried to find something to concentrate on, other than Noah’s body and the manhood that strained against the pleats of his kilt.
“I’m yer wife, Noah. Ye can kiss me however it pleases ye… and touch me however it pleases me.” Her voice dipped as she tried to sound seductive.
Noah flashed a sly smile that put sparks in his eyes. It was the first time Saoirse had ever really seen him happy.
“Please, kiss me again,” she whispered.
His hand fell away from her face. “I should leave ye now.”
His voice, slow and drawn out, made Saoirse believe that it was the last thing he wanted to do. She could easily see the lust and desire warring within his gaze. It was the same war that she was battling as she smoothed her hands over his chest.
Her stomach flipped and danced as she felt how fast his heart raced under her palm. She curled her fingers into the fabric of his shirt, beneath his open jerkin. She didn’t care that they were in the music room. In the back of her mind, she knew Noah would have locked her in there with him, allowing him to do whatever he wanted to her without any prying eyes.