Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“Come, lass, warm yerself by the fire.” Kenneth led her by the hand to stand at the hearth.
He stoked the fire and threw on more logs. Once the flames were leaping high and the fire roaring, he turned to Selene, who was standing close in the glow of the firelight, arms wrapped around herself and her teeth chattering.
“’Tis time fer ye tae shed those sopping clothes, me lady. It will ne’er dae fer ye tae catch yer death.”
Already unbuttoning his jacket, he could scarcely contain a grin as he divested himself of the wet garment and reached for the brooch holding her cloak together at her neck. Unfastening it, he tossed it and the cloak aside, leaving Selene standing only in her night-shift and robe.
She kicked off her wet slippers as Kenneth untied the cord holding her robe, peeled it from her shoulders and let it fall to her feet.
“And what of ye, Kenneth, standing there drenched to the bone?” She gave a soft chuckle and reached to undo the buckle on his belt. “It will do me no good at all to be warm and snug while you are heading for a cold, wet grave.”
Save for the thundering of his heart, he remained obligingly still as she undid the buckle and tugged on the belt so that his kilt descended to somewhere below his knees.
Chuckling he stepped out of it, seized the length of plaid and tossed it across a chair.
He reached for her again. “Now, if ye please, let me relieve ye of that damp shift.”
As she stood before the glowing fire, captured in his gaze, the lacy fabric of her shift was rendered almost transparent, her curves visible beneath the fabric.
Her firm, round breasts with their puckered pink nubs were clearly displayed to his gaze and even the dark triangle between her thighs was on view beneath the delicate fabric of her wet shift.
His eyes raked her body, as she stood before him seeming quite unashamed.
With her eyes on him, she slowly licked her lips, red and swollen as they were from their kissing. Molten hot blood raced through every vein in his body.
He swallowed. Never had he viewed such a rare beauty. He could scarcely tear away his gaze from the wonders before him, his unruly shaft hardening, lust and desire coursing through him as he beheld her exposed as she was to his eyes.
He reached a hand to ruck up the hem of the delicate, lacy fabric above her knees.
“Lift yer arms, Lady Selene, I want ye naked before me.”
With only the slightest of smiles on her lush lips, she obediently raised her arms so that he could draw the shift over her head and shoulders and off.
Then she stood naked before him, her skin glowing in the palest pink in the firelight, her breasts thrusting high, her still-damp curls tumbling over her shoulders and down her back.
He groaned, reaching for her and drawing her glorious nakedness close to his aching hardness to join her lips with his as their kiss deepened.
She pressed closer, her hands tangling in the hair at his nape, his hardened shaft nudging her belly. As they both lifted their heads from their kiss, he gasped in a breath and trailed kisses along her jaw and down the delicate arch of her neck.
He traced his rough hands over the satiny skin of her shoulder until, emboldened by the sound she uttered from somewhere deep in her throat, he stroked down to cup her breasts.
Those same soft breasts that had taunted and tormented his thoughts and his dreams ever since that first ride when he had held her between his thighs on Arkan’s saddle, her curves brushing his arm with every step.
They kissed again and he tweaked the hard, puckered nubs between his forefinger and thumb, savoring the hitch in her breath as he increased the pressure, his shaft turning to steel as she arched her back and pressed her breast to his hands, moaning and sighing and groaning his name aloud.
Then, keeping one hand on her waist to hold her steady, he went lower, his fingers making a trail from her breast to her navel.
He moved his hand from her waist to grasp her rounded buttock and drag her against him, while the other hand explored the mound of curls between her thighs.
He pushed his hand to her thigh, opening her to him.
She cried out his name reaching a hand to his hip, pressed now so close, and her fingers found his shaft and gripped it, stroking up and down his length.
She gasped. “So hard… yet… velvet…”
“Ah, lass, ye dinnae ken what wildness ye’re causing.” He ground out the words, his passion on fire for her was like a madness he could scarcely control.
“If I do to you the same as…” Her sentence disappeared into her moans and sighs as he slid his finger between her thighs and along her slick, wet folds, circling the hard little nub, make her cry out his name.
He took one of her knees in his hand and raised it so that her foot rested on the chair and she was wide open to him. Holding her steady, he slid a finger along her wetness and entered her, slowly at first, only the tip of his finger. She shifted her hips and placed a hand on his.
“I need ye there…” She pressed her hand against his so that his finger penetrated deeper. Then she wriggled slightly, arching herself, her head thrown back so that her long curls swept almost to her knees.
His breathing was hardly more than a series of gasps, his wanting a fierce pain in his groin, but she was a maid and he was taking her mAidanhead and he must go slow.
Stretching her with a second finger he thrust gently. But she moaned again and cried out, grabbing his hand, thrusting her hips to meet his fingers.
“Kenneth. Please. Don’t stop.”
He thrust again, and again she moved her hips to meet his hand. He touched her core, circling it with his thumb as his fingers went deeper.
“I think ye are ready for me, lass,” he managed.
“Oh yes.” She moaned again. He slid his fingers out of her wetness and, clasping her tight, he lifted her and laid her spreadeagled on the rug before the fire.
As he knelt before her, he pulled off his shirt and joined her in his nakedness.
Waves of pleasure quivering through her, Selene looked up, smiling dreamily. He was magnificent, the flickering firelight playing over his taut muscles, his wide shoulders, the breadth of his chest with its smattering of dark hair, his mighty arms.
Her eyes widened as they came to his jutting shaft. She gasped.
“You look very fine to me, Kenneth MacDonald. But that…” She pointed. “It is so large I don’t believe it could fit inside me.”
Rolling back on his heels he nodded. “Aye, lass. I believe I will fit. Ye are made for it.” His voice was husky with desire.
She seemed to freeze.
“However, I understand that ye’re a maid, and that ye are offering me the precious gift of yer mAidanhead. So, if ye’re afraid, I’ll nae take ye.” He sighed. “Nay matter how me body aches fer ye.”
She reached a hand for him and he leaned in and grasped it. “Just as my body aches for ye, Kenneth,” she whispered. “But these feelings…” she gave a tiny moan and shifted her hips, gazing into his eyes, clutching his hand as if it was her lifeline. “It’s just not what I expected.”
He leaned over her and she ran her fingers over his shoulders and across his chest, toying a little with the rough, dark hairs, marveling at his strength.
“I’d been told that there is no pleasure in lovemaking for a woman. It is all for the man’s desire, and that wives must do it as a gift to their husbands.”
He let go of her hand and shifted his position so that he lay beside her. “Aye. I believe I’ve heard of such nonsense.”
“Well, there is great pleasure for me in your touch,” she said, sighing against him. “So, I believe it is nonsense. And, to be truthful, my body has a glorious, wanton hunger for you.” She tangled her legs against his and paused, giving it a moment’s thought. “Does that make me wicked?”
“Wicked?” He gave a soft laugh, rolling over to take her in his arms. “Nay lass. Ye’re nae more wicked than a sweet robin singing her song at our window. Ye’re just built fer pleasure as she is fer song.” He lowered his head to kiss her mouth.
At the touch of his lips, all Selene’s questions banished in a rush of desire for him. She was lost in the kiss and the feel of his skin against hers and his hand sliding over her breasts.
Gasping, she held him close as he stroked over her belly with deft, searching, fingers, and down to the place between her thighs that was throbbing with need for him.
He parted her, pushing his fingers inside her, and she moaned, arching her back, blazing with her own fire, shifting her legs to give him access to her most hidden parts.
“Aye lass, are ye ready fer me?”
“Mm.” There were no words. Her body was alight, his touch igniting every part of her from fingertips to toes and everything in between. She could think of nothing else but her desperate need for him to take her.
She writhed against him. Feeling his hardness nudging her mound, she drew her legs apart, letting him slide against the wetness of her folds.
Groaning, he paused at her entrance, but she urged him, raising her hips a little so that his tip slid inside her.
“I dinnae wish tae hurt ye…” he managed.
But she was past all thought now. She raised her hips, thrusting against him.
As he entered her, he cried her name, a desperate, passionate sound that took her to some place she’d never been. A wild, treacherous shore where the waves built fiercely as she rode bliss with them with every thrust.
This was ecstasy she’d never imagined or dreamed of, sweeping her to some unknown place, cresting the surging waves in final, glorious, moments. Now there was only Kenneth, his touch, his scent, his body joined with hers and his cries and spasms matching hers.
Afterwards, spent, they lay by the fire in each other’s arms, until at last they drifted into sleep.