Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
She tastes like honey.
Kieran couldn’t get enough of her. That first kiss was more than he could have ever imagined—more intoxicating, more overwhelming, more monumental than any kiss he had ever had before. He couldn’t remember a time when his need was all-consuming like this, demanding that he give in to his desires.
He could not stop it. It was as if a wave was dragging him along deeper and deeper into the sea with no hopes of escape when he finally kissed her. He had held back for so long that now that the dams were broken, and he didn’t think he could ever build them back up.
And when Lydia kissed him back, giving in to him, he couldn’t help the growl that tore itself from his lips.
The painting forgotten, Kieran let his hands drag over the length of Lydia’s body, caressing the dip of her waist, the curve of her hips, eager to touch her everywhere he could.
The scent of her, lavender and rose and something sweet underneath that which seemed to belong just to her, drove him mad with desire, and so did the tentative touch she gave him when she laid her hand on his chest.
The touch was hesitant, uncertain, as if she struggled with what she wanted to do and what she thought she should do.
And yet, it was more endearing than any touch from an experienced lover, and Kieran couldn’t help but lean into it as he deepened the kiss, licking past the seam of her lips into her mouth.
The act seemed to catch Lydia by surprise. She gasped against him, her lips parting as she let him explore her, her body melting against his own in his arms. With a grunt, he pulled her even closer until their bodies were flush against each other, and he could feel the contours of her body on him.
When he pulled back, he only did so enough to look at her, his hand trailing from the back of her neck down her chest, tracing the swell of her breast. Lydia gasped, her eyes wide as she watched the path his hand took, but she didn’t stop him; he could tell she didn’t want him to.
Silently, he pulled her toward a plush couch that he had pushed to the side of the room to make space for his easel, laying her over the deep red velvet.
Lydia’s breath came in short, quick huffs, her breasts threatening to spill out of her petticoat with each one, and Kieran would be lying if he said he wasn’t mesmerized by the sight, his trews growing uncomfortable the more he watched.
“I want ye,” he told her, his voice barely a whisper. “And I shall have ye. I shall show ye precisely why ye mustnae make demands.”
Lydia looked up at him with wide eyes, her rosy lips slightly parted and glistening. She said nothing—only drew in a sharp breath, her gaze tracking every movement Kieran made.
And when he cupped himself through his trews in an attempt to alleviate some of the pressure, her gaze darkened, her tongue darting past her lips to lick them.
Does she even ken what she’s doin’ to me?
Kieran doubted she did. None of her responses were manufactured, none of them seemed on purpose. But it was as if she was made to tempt him, as if she was sin incarnate, and he wanted nothing more than to plunge himself inside her, to take her as a man takes his wife.
He had denied himself too long—and he would continue to deny himself because he didn’t think Lydia was ready for this yet.
As much as he wanted her, as much as he craved her body, he wanted her to be the one to surrender to him, willingly, desperately, to reach the point of wanting it so much that she didn’t care about pride, and she didn’t care about begging.
Nothing of hers would be taken by force; nothing would be given reluctantly.
But that didn’t mean he couldn’t still have his fun with her—and give her the pleasure she deserved.
With a trembling breath, he reached for her, his hands cupping the swell of her breasts with a moan.
Under him, Lydia arched into the touch, her back peeling off the couch, and Kieran’s manhood gave a sympathetic twitch at the sight of her like this, flushed and panting already.
He could only imagine the moment when he would finally be inside her—the way she would cry out his name, the way her body would cling to him, parting to take him deep.
For now, he was content with kissing a line down her neck, nibbling on her sensitive skin until she squirmed and moaned under him, her hips moving up to meet his seemingly on their own.
His hands tugged impatiently at her petticoat, all but tearing it off her; he wanted to see all of her, wanted to get rid of her clothes, but he didn’t have the patience for that.
He only had enough patience to loosen it enough and pull it down to her ribs, exposing her breasts, her nipples hardening immediately at the touch of the cold air.
Lydia let out a soft gasp at the rough treatment, one that turned into a moan when Kieran leaned closer and wrapped his lips around one hardened nipple, sucking the nub into his mouth.
Her hands came to tangle in his dark hair, pulling at the strands, and Kieran’s body came alight at that touch, desire coiling deep inside him, demanding release.
He had little choice but to reach inside his trews, his fingers wrapping around his length to give himself a few slow, leisurely strokes as he scattered kisses on her breasts, taking his fill of her—impossible as that seemed.
“I wish to taste ye,” he said, dragging the flat of his tongue over the swell of her breast before he circled the tip around the peak of her nipple. “Spread yer legs for me. Be a good lass now.”
Lydia flushed a pretty pink at the request, heat flooding her cheeks. When she didn’t move, though, too embarrassed to do as she was told, Kieran grabbed her knee and pushed her legs apart himself, only for her cheeks to turn an even deeper red.
“Ye’ll listen to me when I tell ye what to do, aye?” he asked, his lips hovering only inches from her own. “Because I ken what ye’ll like. I ken that if I touch ye here—” he reached between her legs to drag a gentle finger over her opening “—ye’ll like it.”
And like it she did. Lydia let out a moan so loud that she startled herself, her hand coming up to clamp over her mouth. When Kieran teased her, rubbing his finger over her folds, he found her already dripping with need, the feel of her driving him mad with desire.
“See? Ye do like it,” Kieran said, sounding just as breathless as he felt. When his finger reached higher, rubbing that sensitive spot on her mound, Lydia shook and reached for him, her fingers digging into his shoulders with a hiss.
“Daenae… daenae stop,” she said, and Kieran gave her a grin.
“I had nay intention.”
Instead, he pushed her skirts up, pooling the fabric around her thighs as he settled between her legs. There, her opening pulsed for him, her skin glistening, the sight of her irresistible.
And when he finally pressed the flat of his tongue against her, tasting her for the first time, he cursed himself for waiting this long.
The first touch of Kieran’s tongue against her core had Lydia gasping for breath.
The touch was as foreign as it was pleasurable, heat and desire coursing through her body at the warm, slick drag of his tongue.
The sight of him between her legs, her dress disheveled, her breasts and her mound exposed to his gaze, was obscene, but that only stoked the fires of her desire, making her crave more.
It was the last thing she had expected when he told her he knew what she would like, but he was not lying—Lydia did like it, more than she ever thought possible.
Never before had she felt such pleasure, the kind that pushed every other thought aside until all that remained was the brush of his tongue against her folds every time he licked into her, the gentle push of it past the right of muscles at her entrance.
Kieran seemed to enjoy it, too, pressing into her like a man starved, as if he was desperate for her, desperate to reach deeper, to pleasure her until she was shaking with it.
And shake she did, her thighs trembling as Kieran teased her, sucking on her sensitive spot until she cried out his name and once again had to press her hand over her mouth to cover her shouts.
Heat flooded her cheeks at the thought that someone could hear them.
They were a married couple, that much was true, but the idea of a servant passing by the room and hearing her in the throes of passion was as embarrassing as it was exhilarating, sending a shiver down her spine.
Everyone would ken what he’s doin’ to me. Everyone would ken I’m his.
After that, it didn’t take long for her to explode.
There was no other word for it—her orgasm ripped through her, pleasure flooding her body as she convulsed around him; a scream torn from her lips as her core pulsed in time with her heartbeat.
It seemed to last forever, dragged out by Kieran working her through the aftershocks, pleasuring her still even when she was already too sensitive and shying away from his touch.
When he pulled back, his mouth and chin shiny, his eyes dark, she found that she wouldn’t mind being touched again after all, even if it was still too soon.
For a few moments, he only watched her as she tried to catch her breath. Then, his gaze never leaving her, he reached into his trews and cupped himself, the sight drawing a moan out of Lydia.
She wanted to touch him—she craved it. And yet, when she reached for him, she was hesitant, too inexperienced to know what to do.
But Kieran was quick to guide her. With a soft sigh, he released himself, pushing his trews lower until his manhood sprang out, straining against his stomach, and Lydia’s eyes widened at the sight.
He was long and thick, so much so that she couldn’t possibly understand how a coupling with him would work. She had heard the maids speak of it before—the way a man takes his wife—and now, she thought that surely, they had to be mistaken.
Above her, Kieran chuckled, perhaps realizing her apprehension. “Daenae fash,” he told her. “When the time comes, ye’ll be more than ready for it. I plan to give plenty of practice.”
“Practice?” Lydia asked, her voice coming out in a squeak.
“Aye, practice.”
She could only imagine what Kieran intended to do with her.
For now, though, he only reached for her hand, guiding it to wrap around the length of his manhood.
Lydia was surprised by how rigid the muscle felt, how velvety the skin was, how he pulsed in her hand when he gave a gentle squeeze at her fingers.
Soon, they shifted on the couch, Kieran sitting and pulling her closer until she was kneeling next to him, watching as the tip disappeared in her fist with every upstroke.
Kieran let his head fall back with a sigh, and Lydia took a moment to watch him—the way his eyelids littered shut, the soft curve of his mouth punctuated by the short beard he sported, the shape of his neck as he leaned back.
Then, her gaze moved lower, taking in the hollow of his neck where sweat had pooled, the slight thatch of hair she could see peeking out of his collar, the swell of his arms as he still guided her hand and reached for her with his other hand, pulling her into a searing kiss.
Lydia’s heartbeat thudded in her ears, her stomach tying itself into knots at the thought that came unbidden to her mind. She wanted to give him the same pleasure he gave her, but she was too nervous to do so. What was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to start?
He’ll show me… he’ll tell me what I have to do.
Slowly, hesitantly, she dipped her head until she could give the tip a kitten lick, the touch of her tongue feather-light, barely more than a whisper. But it was enough to have Kieran growling, his hand slapping against his thigh, fingers curling around it hard.
He looked as though he was straining to control himself, and Lydia couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride.
“That’s it,” he said, his voice rough with need. “Part yer lips. Take it in yer mouth.”
Lydia did as she was told, letting her lips part around him.
It was a strange sensation, the weight of him on her tongue, the soft skin that was such a contrast to the rest of his body that was hardened and scarred by years of training and battles.
She tongued at the shaft, trying her best to imitate what Kieran had done to her, and before long, he was moaning and writhing under her, gripping onto the edge of the couch as if he could hardly stop himself from thrusting up into her mouth.
It wasn’t long before he grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her up into another kiss, the sudden movement jostling her.
She gripped onto his shoulders, his hand moving furiously over his length as he chased his orgasm, and soon, he spilled hot over Lydia’s thighs, a moan of her name tumbling from his lips.
Afterwards, the two of them sat there, panting as they tried to catch their breaths. Kieran let out a soft chuckle, one that Lydia couldn’t help but echo, warmth suffusing her skin from his touch.
“I dinnae ken it could be like… like this.”
“Ye havenae seen anythin’ yet, lass,” Kieran said. “Just ye wait.”
Lydia couldn’t even imagine what he had in store for her, but she did know she could hardly wait.