Chapter 33 #3
She discovered something unexpected and stilled her hand.
“You are a little wet,” she said.
“Aye.”
Arabella realized she had never stroked him for so long. At this point, he was usually inside her.
“I’m sor—” Alasdair started.
She whipped around, transferring her hold on his cock from one hand to another, and blocked his apology with a kiss.
After the kiss, he said, “It means I am aroused. I cannae control that.”
Good, no apology. Her training was working. Unless, of course, he learned to start saying he was sorry just to get her to kiss him. She would have to be alert to see if he ever became that canny. But for now, the kiss just seemed to remind him that she did not want his apologies.
“Oh, Alasdair.” She kissed his nose. “When are you going to learn the things I love most about you are the things you can’t control?”
Her angle was better now, and she could hold him both as loosely and as firmly as she liked. And she could look down and see the glistening at the tip of his member and rub the palm of her hand in the wetness and then drag it down the length of his member.
“Like . . . what?” Alasdair choked out.
“Your auburn hair, especially the lock that flops down and covers your left eye. Your dimples. Your hardness. And now this little bit of wetness that tells me even more that you want me.”
He groaned and closed his eyes.
“Alasdair, what do you want?”
“I want . . . to be inside ye and to spend inside ye and make a baby.”
“How wonderful,” she cooed, “because I want that, too.” She released him and lay flat on her back.
“Now?”
“As long as you promise this will be a long night in a lifetime of long nights and you will reconsider my desire to kiss you—everywhere.”
He kissed her mouth and grinned. “I promise.”
He fumbled a bit, getting on his knees between her legs, and she spent that time looking at him, taking him in, paying particular attention to the parts of him she could not see when he was dressed.
His shoulders and his long arms that matched those long fingers.
His pale skin, flushed over his shoulders and his chest. His chest with its soft copper hair.
His flat abdomen that led to his other copper-colored hair and his engorged cock.
As she breathed in, she shuddered. She was consumed by her need for him.
She salivated and gulped. She felt her nether regions drip.
He had just made her spend in the most wonderful way, and, so soon, she was ready again.
She leaned forward and kissed him over his heart.
“Feel me with your fingers, Alasdair,” Arabella whispered into his chest. “Feel how wet I am.”
He would do anything she asked. He felt her, and she lay back on the bed and exhaled with a sound that was halfway between a sigh and a moan.
“Put a finger in me.”
He did that, looking at her face, her breasts. His Arabella. His wife.
“What does it feel like, Alasdair?”
“It feels like heaven. Smooth and soft and wet and warm.”
“Mmmm. And now,” she said, her voice rough, “I want something bigger.”
He withdrew his finger and grasped his own cock and put the head at her entrance.
“I want you,” she said.
Alasdair felt certain he would have staying power. After all, he was a man of experience now. And he wanted their coupling to last as long as possible, so he went as slowly as he could. But far too soon, far too quickly, he was all the way inside her and withdrawing and plunging and withdrawing.
She said, “My husband,” and lifted her hips to him and he was adrift in a sea of pleasure that had as much to do with his heart as it did his cock.
“Ahhh,” she said.
A bead of sweat ran down his temple.
“Does it feel good, Arabella?”
“Yes.” She flattened her palms on the sides of his ribcage. “Please.”
He thrust.
“Uhhh,” she said and raised her hips.
He did it again.
“Nnngh.” She gave the sweetest of little grunts.
This spurred him, and he thrust again, feeling quite wild now, and once more and another time to boot and she was grabbing his buttocks, pulling him into her, and he was mindlessly bent on a single driving urgency and she was saying his name and he was saying he loved her and a spasm ripped through his body and he felt himself spend inside her glorious tightness.
He fell to the side of her, still inside her, and she immediately turned her head to look at him and put both her hands on both sides of his head.
“Alasdair,” she said.
He could not speak.
“Alasdair, we are going to have such a good married life together. And dozens of redheaded babies.”
His lips found hers, and he kissed his beautiful wife.
Later on, he did reconsider his position about her mouth on his member. The ability to correct oneself in the face of a compelling argument was one of the many gifts that came with being the not-stupid man.
In the morning, the total score stood at twenty-three to twenty-two, Arabella having kept her lead, narrowly.
As per Alasdair’s system, points went to the one who caused the climax, not the one who had it.
They agreed coitus counted as a point to Arabella if only Alasdair climaxed and a point each if they both climaxed.
Arabella felt quite accomplished in keeping her lead because Alasdair had a decided advantage since she recovered more quickly than he did.
But she kept her mouth shut. It was not nice to gloat that her physiology allowed her so much more pleasure than his did. But she honestly gave him all the points he earned and just worked that much harder to keep her lead.
When the sun rose, two naked, wrung-out specimens of the human race sprawled on the bed, Alasdair on his back, Arabella on her stomach with her upper body and her cheek on his chest. She was completely still. One of his hands was making lazy circles on her back.
She felt very sure they had made a baby sometime during the night.
She raised her head. “Alasdair?”
“Aye?”
“Would you like a draw?”
For a moment, he looked confused. And then he understood and smiled and carefully rolled over, flipping her onto her back.
“Which way would ye like me to earn my point, Arabella? I dinnae think I can be inside ye right now but maybe my hand or my mouth would do?”
“Your hand, Alasdair, your marvelous fingers so I can kiss your mouth and look at your face at the same time.” After all, the baby had been made, and the poor man deserved some rest.
“And I can tell ye I love ye as ye shake,” he murmured and put his hand between her legs, and she felt those gentle fingers begin to explore her already wet folds.
“There are two conditions, however,” she said.
He stilled his hand.
“Conditions?”
“First, we end the game in a draw and give up keeping score.”
“Aye.”
“And you admit you were wrong. Entirely. About women having lust.”
His face and neck turned the most delicious, deep, dark red, and he was naked, so she could observe the blush did start at his neck and spread upwards, but sadly, from his chest down, he did not blush at all.
“I have been wrong about many things, Arabella, but I can admit I was more wrong about that than anything else, as ye have proven.”
“Oh, Alasdair, I do love you,” she said and threw her arms around his neck and kissed him with an ardor that matched the intensity of their first kiss in this room fourteen hours earlier.
He began to touch her in the way she liked and her breathing turned into panting as they kissed and she groaned into his mouth.
“You should know, Alasdair . . . nothing . . . uh . . . arouses a woman more than a man . . . yes . . . who can admit he is wrong.”
“Then I will be sure to be as wrong as often as possible, Arabella, if only so I can admit it for yer pleasure.”
“Oh, but Alasdair, I can feel it is for your pleasure, too.”
And, sure enough, the feel of her on his fingers, her groans, her kisses had made him hard again, and his cock was poking into her thighs.
“I have nae seed left, Arabella. I am empty. And tired.”
“I have an idea,” she said.
She turned her back to him and nestled her bottom just above his member. She got up on her elbow and took one of his arms and put it under her and clamped his hand to her breast. Then she reached between her legs and stroked his cock several times and put it inside her wet entrance.
“I will push back on you. You don’t have to do anything except what you were already doing with your hand before.”
She climaxed more quickly than he did, but he got even harder when her walls clutched at him, and so although he had thought it was an impossibility, there was some seed left to spend.
“Ye ken what this means,” he panted in her ear.
She smiled. “I’m still winning.”