Chapter 23 #2
Scarlett, her blood singing, her mind a haze of want, managed a breathless reply. “Aye… well… ye’re nae exactly… unburdened.” Her own hands fumbled with the fastenings of his tunic, her fingers clumsy and eager.
He let out a low, guttural sound that was half laugh, half groan.
“Let me, lass. Before ye drive me truly mad.” He sat back on his heels, his gaze burning into her as his own hands went to the leather belt at his waist. The buckle gave way with a soft clink, and he tossed it aside, the sound followed by the rustle of his tunic as he pulled it over his head.
The firelight caught the planes of his chest, the ridges of muscle and old scars, the dusting of dark hair that trailed down his stomach.
Scarlett’s breath caught. She had seen him bare-chested before but never like this, with the intent that hung so heavy in the air between them.
His arousal was a clear, formidable line straining against the confines of his trousers, and a fresh, liquid heat pooled low in her belly.
“Yer turn,” he commanded, his voice thick.
He leaned over her, his fingers making quick, surprisingly deft work of the laces at the front of her dress.
Each tug, each loosened string, felt like a small surrender.
She could only watch, her heart hammering against her ribs, as he parted the fabric, his knuckles brushing against the sensitive skin of her sternum. A soft, involuntary moan escaped her.
“Robert…”
“I ken, lass,” he soothed, his eyes dark with a shared fever. “I feel it too.”
He peeled the dress from her shoulders, down her arms, until she was left in only her thin linen shift.
The cool night air kissed her skin, raising goosebumps, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his gaze.
He looked his fill, his eyes tracing the outline of her body, the shadow of her nipples against the thin fabric.
“God, ye’re bonnie,” he breathed, the words filled with a reverence that belied the crude hunger of moments before.
He didn’t remove the shift yet. Instead, he lowered his head and pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the fabric just over her breast. She cried out, her back arching off the bed, her hands flying to his shoulders to anchor herself.
The damp heat of his mouth, the faint scrape of his stubble through the linen, was an exquisite torture.
“Please,” she begged, not even sure what she was asking for.
He understood. With a final, agonizingly slow pull, he drew the shift up and over her head, tossing it to join the growing pile of their clothes. And then she was bare before him, bathed in the fire’s glow.
For a moment, he simply stared, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The raw hunger in his eyes was tempered with something akin to awe. “Scarlett,” he whispered, her name a prayer.
Then his hands were on her, skin to skin, and she gasped at the contact. His palms were rough, calloused from sword and labor, but his touch was devastatingly gentle as he cupped her breasts, his thumbs sweeping over her taut nipples. A sharp, needy sound was torn from her throat.
“Ye like that?” he murmured, lowering his head to replace his thumb with his tongue.
“Aye… oh, aye…” she moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair, holding him to her.
He laved and suckled, first one breast then the other, until she was writhing beneath him, a litany of pleas and whimpers falling from her lips.
The coil of pleasure tightened deep within her, a desperate, gathering storm.
He kissed a blazing trail down her stomach, his hands stroking her flanks, her hips, her thighs, learning the shape and feel of her. When he settled between her legs, she instinctively tried to close them, a sudden flutter of shyness overtaking her.
“Shhh,” he soothed, his hands firm on her inner thighs. “Let me see ye, lass. All of ye.”
He gently urged her legs apart, and the cool air, and the heat of his gaze on her most intimate place, made her shudder. “Robert, I…”
“I willnae hurt ye,” he vowed, his voice gravelly with promise. “I will only make ye feel.”
And then he lowered his mouth to her.
Scarlett’s world exploded. A sharp, broken cry ripped from her lungs as his tongue found her core. A shocking, wet, devastating pleasure shattered all thought. Her hips bucked off the bed, but his strong hands held her fast.
“Oh, God… oh!” she sobbed, her hands fisting in the furs.
He didn’t answer with words, only with the relentless, skilled stroke of his tongue.
He licked and suckled, exploring her folds, finding the sensitive, aching nub at her center and circling it until she was mindless, chanting his name like a mantra.
The pressure built, higher and higher, a terrifying, glorious precipice.
“I cannae… I’m going to…” she gasped, her body tensing, bowing.
He growled against her, the vibration sending her spiraling further.
“Let go, Scarlett. Give it to me.”
His command was her undoing. The world turned white behind her eyes as the climax seized her, violent and rapturous. She screamed his name, her body convulsing under the relentless waves of pleasure, shaking apart in his arms.
As the tremors began to subside, he moved up her body, his own trembling with the force of his control. He kissed her belly, her sternum, the frantic pulse at her throat, before finally claiming her mouth again, letting her taste herself on his lips.
She was boneless, floating, but the hard, insistent press of his hardness against her thigh brought her back to the moment. The need was still there, banked but not extinguished.
“Now,” she breathed, looking up into his wild, darkened eyes. “Robert, now.”
A groan tore from him. He positioned himself at her entrance, the broad head of his hardness nudging against her slick, sensitive flesh. He was watching her face, every muscle in his body corded with strain.
“It might… just at first…” he warned, his voice strained.
She reached up and cupped his jaw, her thumb stroking his cheek. “I am yers,” she whispered, echoing his words. “Take me.”
With a final, shuddering breath, he pushed forward.
There was a brief, sharp sting of intrusion, a fullness so profound it stole her breath. She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders. He stilled instantly, his body rigid above her, sweat beading on his brow.
“Breathe,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Just breathe for me.”
She did, and as she relaxed around him, the sting faded, replaced by a deep, stretching pleasure. He felt huge inside her, filling her completely, claiming her in the most primal way possible.
“Move,” she pleaded. “Please, Robert.”
He needed no further encouragement. He began to move, a slow, deep rhythm that was both an apology and a claiming. Each stroke stoked the embers of her pleasure back to life. Soon, she was meeting his thrusts, her hips rising to meet his, their bodies finding a perfect, ancient cadence.
The bed creaked in time with their joining. The air was thick with the sounds of their passion: their ragged breaths, the slick, wet sound of their union, her soft, high moans, and his low, guttural groans.
“So tight,” he gritted out, his face buried in her neck. “So perfect for me. Ye feel… God, Scarlett…”
She could only moan in response, her senses overwhelmed. The friction was building again, a new, deeper climax coiling within her. She could feel his control fraying, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, more desperate.
“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice raw.
She forced her eyes open, meeting his blazing gaze. In that moment, there were no secrets between them. Only truth.
“I’m close,” she cried out, her body tightening around him.
“Aye, come for me, lass,” he growled, driving into her with a new, devastating intensity. “Let me feel ye.”
His words, his touch, the feel of him moving deep inside her, it was all too much. Her second climax shattered her, even more powerful than the first. A raw, screaming cry was torn from her as she convulsed around him, her inner muscles milking his length.
The sensation was his end. With a final, powerful thrust and a hoarse shout of her name, he poured himself into her, his own release a violent, shuddering wave that seemed to go on forever.
He collapsed against her, his full weight a welcome anchor, his face buried in her hair as they both struggled for breath.
For a long time, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing and the crackle of the fire. The storm inside them had passed, leaving a profound, trembling peace in its wake.
Slowly, carefully, he shifted his weight to the side, gathering her against him, so her head rested on his shoulder. His heart still hammered against her ear, a wild, steady rhythm that slowly began to calm.
He pressed a kiss to her damp forehead. “Are ye all right?” he asked, his voice rough with spent passion and concern.
Scarlett nodded, her body humming with a deep, sated warmth. She traced the line of a scar across his chest. “Aye,” she whispered. “More than all right.”
She spoke softly. “What happens now?”
Robert’s fingers traced idle circles on her shoulder. “Now,” he said, “I do what I should’ve done from the start, protect what’s mine. Ye. Our home. Our life.”
Her heart swelled. “So ye’re saying rule number one might already be broken,” she teased. “If a bairn comes from tonight…”
He caught her hand, kissed her knuckles. “Then the council will live with it. I’ll face them all, Scarlett. But I’ll never let anyone touch what’s ours again.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes. “Ours,” she repeated, smiling through them.
He brushed a damp curl from her forehead, his thumb lingering against her skin. “Aye. So do I.”
“Sleep,” he murmured, pulling her close. “Ye’re safe now.”
Scarlett nestled against him, her fingers resting where his heartbeat steady beneath her touch. “I daenae think I’ll ever get used to this,” she whispered. “The sound of ye breathing beside me.”
He smiled against her hair. “Then I’ll just have to keep doing it, so ye can try.”
Her laugh came faint and drowsy. “Daenae stop, then.” “I won’t,” he promised.
As the last of the candlelight faded, she drifted into sleep against him. Outside, dawn touched the castle walls with pale light. The rules were gone. There was only this. His heartbeat under her hand, steady and real, and the quiet that finally, after everything, felt like home.