Chapter 20
Broc had never wanted to please a woman more than he yearned to please her. He wanted to possess her body and soul. She was the most beautiful thing ever to come into his life, and he didn’t want to think of what it would be like returning to a life without her.
If only for tonight, he wanted to imagine she was his... would be his until he took his dying breath.
He suckled her beautiful breasts, imagining his future bairns nourished there. He would die a happy man if he could hold her this close every night for the rest of his given days. He would do anything to please her, never let harm come to her, cherish her always.
His heart had nearly burst through his ribs when she bared herself to him so artlessly and then arched her breasts seductively toward his hungering lips.
He divested himself of his dress while he suckled her, wanting to give her time to object.
If she would deny him; he wanted to hear it now, before it was too late.
He wanted her to know his desires, wanted her to see what she’d done to him—what she continued to do to him with the simple sound of her voice. .. a mere glance...
The scent of her skin was driving him mad. His body was hard, hungry.
He tore himself away from the feast she had offered, still ravenous with desire, and looked down at her flushed face.
Her eyes were closed, her breasts arched upward, silently begging for more.
Her nipple was dark and wet and shiny from his kisses, and his mouth was left wanting, with the taste of her sweet flesh lingering like ambrosia on his lips.
Christ, she was lovely.
When he was wholly divested, she opened her eyes and gasped audibly as her eyes fastened upon his very erect shaft. For an instant, he thought she would cry out in fear. Her lips parted, but no sound came from them.
He arched a brow at her. “The wee lad would like some attention,” he told her.
Wee lad was hardly the correct description.
It was Elizabet’s turn to lift her brows.
Smiling shyly up at him, she reached down to grasp the hem of her gown. And taking a deep breath, she lifted it up over her head. She didn’t have to ask for his help. The gown was whisked away and tossed aside faster than she had time to part her lips.
“Christ you are lovely, woman!”
So was he, but she couldn’t speak to say so. The heat of his gaze left her disarmed. His blue eyes smoldered with desire, sweeping the length of her body from her eyes to her limbs, lingering lustfully upon her breast and lower...
Her breath caught, and her throat felt suddenly too thick to speak. Her nipples hardened, and her body trembled. Without another word, he reached out to touch a finger to that intimate place between her thighs.
She nearly cried out with the shocking heat of his fingertip.
He bent to take her mouth, then, and slid his tongue between her lips.
At the same time, he slipped a scalding finger between those lips down below.
The sensation of it left her dizzy. He kissed her passionately.
.. touching her gently... pressing deeper with each stroke.
“My God!” she cried breathlessly.
Her heart leapt higher with every caress.
He pulled her closer then and deepened the kiss, plunging his tongue within and ravaging her mouth with an intensity that left her weak.
“Give me your tongue,” he demanded. “Taste me.”
She did as he asked, her eyes closing in pleasure.
Broc held himself in his hand, caressing her with the tip of his shaft, reveling in the wetness she showered upon him.
In that instant, as he stroked himself between her moist, sweet lips, he craved the tightness of her body beyond madness.
It was all he could do not to push himself inside her.
But he’d encountered her maidenhead, and he wanted her first time to be pleasurable.
He wanted her wet... and wanting... wanted to lay her back upon the pallet and drink the nectar of her body.
She was limp in his arms, offering herself without reservation, gifting him with the most glorious prize ever bestowed upon man.
Groaning with desire, he laid her down upon the pallet, kissing her lips until they were as wet and swollen as her flower.
She didn’t protest, and his hands found her breasts of their own accord. She arched into them, and his body shuddered in response. Christ, it was not easy to restrain himself. It had been far too long.
He nibbled her breasts, then, seeking her sweet dew, lapped downward along the gentle curve of her belly, his heart hammering with anticipation.
His body shattered at the first taste of her, his heart constricting painfully as she spread her legs and arched her body, offering him a magnificent banquet.
The taste of her was like nothing he’d ever imagined, the scent of her like sweet pollen.
He tasted her feverishly, suckling the bud of her desire, tugging it gently into his mouth as he had with her nipples.
She cried out, lifting her legs over his shoulders, and he swore to God he would die where he lay.
“You... taste...” He forced himself away from her sweet bounty, replacing his lips with his fingers, while he nibbled and kissed his way back to her mouth. “... so good,” he finished, offering her his tongue.
His body shuddered violently as she took him into her mouth.
It was the most wicked invitation, but Elizabet was too oblivious with desire to protest his offer. She suckled his tongue, tasting herself on his lips... his mouth... while his fingers danced the most erotic dance she had ever known.
Every nerve in her body felt alive to his touch, every breath she took a shuddering breath, every tremor she felt a quiver of ecstasy.
She was helpless beneath the onslaught of sensation. Even if she’d known what to do in return, she wouldn’t have had the sense to do it, so oblivious was she.
“Spread your legs for me, love...”
Moaning softly, Elizabet did as she was told, spreading her legs so that his fingers could better dance within her.
She panted softly, her heart jolting with every single touch he bestowed upon her.
His kisses were rapturous, his caresses shocking, but she shamelessly delighted in every glide of his fingers.
He lifted his hand suddenly to their mouths and pressed wet fingers between their joined lips, lapping them lustfully.
It shocked her merely an instant, and then she joined him, her heart pounding fiercely against her ribs.
Her legs spread of their own accord, seeking something, though she knew not what.
And then suddenly she felt the pressure between her legs, and she cried out, arching instinctively, impaling herself joyfully upon his body.
His own cry was ragged against her ear. His body shuddered in answer, and he growled huskily, holding her closer.
The pain was minimal, and the sound of his pleasure only heightened her own.
Wrapping her arms about his neck, she moved her body, undulating beneath him, needing him deeper... and deeper... deeper.
Something within her belly began to coil, spiraling its way toward a center of sensation so great in intensity that it nearly stopped her heartbeat. With every stroke of his body inside her, the thread of pleasure intensified.
And then time seemed to stand still for an interminable instant, and she felt her body climax. Her consciousness shattered into a thousand brilliant pieces in that glorious instant, and she cried out, trembling in exultation.
He answered her cry with one of his own and thrust himself one last time so deep within her that she felt him pulse against her very heart. She cried out with him, her body convulsing again.
He placed a hand at her bottom and rolled to one side, spent, dragging her with him, until she lay replete atop him, still intimately joined with his body. Her own body still pulsed with pleasure, drawing from him every last drop of his seed.
The sound of whimpering penetrated her consciousness. She peered at Harpy, who sat staring at them, whining anxiously, her expression full of curiosity. Somehow, the realization that her mother’s hound had witnessed every shameless display of affection left her cheeks hot.
Harpy tilted her head, peering at their naked, entwined bodies.
“Oh, God!” she exclaimed. Her face flushing with mortification, she buried her head against Broc’s neck.
He laughed softly, the sound of his laugh wholly sated and relaxed. His hand went to her nape, massaging it gently. “Next time, we’ll put the hound outside,” he promised, and kissed her gently on the cheek, then hugged her sweetly.
Elizabet had never felt more cherished than she did at that moment. Her heart felt so big that it no longer seemed to fit within her breast.
She had no regrets.
None at all.
She dozed with her face in the crook of Broc’s shoulder while he stroked her back and combed his fingers through her hair.
Vaguely, she was aware that Harpy gave one last whine and then laid down beside them, relaxing as surely as Elizabet was falling asleep.
“I’m going to make everything right, Elizabet,” she thought she heard him whisper, but she was far too satiated to ask precisely what he meant, and then her body eased her into a blissful state of slumber.