Chapter Twelve #3
Mhàiri let out a soft, feminine sound. She was not sure what she wanted, but with each kiss, each touch, something stirred inside of her, flooding her with aching demand. She turned and arched toward him, a wordless invitation.
Need slammed into him, hard and painful, but Conan took a deep breath, fought, and won.
He wanted to take things slow, but he was already having trouble holding on to his control.
His shaft was hard and throbbing to the point of pain, but he wanted to make this good for her. He needed to make this special.
He could see the worry in her beautiful green eyes as she watched him.
She bit at her lower lip in a nervous gesture, and his gaze dropped.
Mesmerized by the sight, he wanted to bite that lush lip and soothe the sting away with his tongue.
Instead, he gently cupped her face, and his thumbs rubbed her cheeks slowly.
Conan was overcome by a surge of possessiveness.
He would be her first. And he wanted tonight to be so good that he would be her last.
Mhàiri was sheer perfection. His mouth watered at the sight of her full breasts.
He wanted to taste them until she cried out, and he would, but first he simply wanted to know the silky feel of her skin.
He brushed the backs of his hands against the swell of her breasts and smiled when she shivered in response.
He bent his head and glided his mouth over hers. A hungry sound escaped him as he demanded entry. Her arms latched around his neck, and she willingly gave in, opening for him as she pushed her body deeper into his.
That small action was his undoing. There was no way he could stop now. Conan wanted to devour her, consume her. He was drowning in a desperate need to have her, and he wanted to take her deep into the dark depths so she would never be free of him.
He went to work, undoing the rest of the laces of her dress, stripping her from her gown, letting it and the chemise underneath fall to the floor.
His mouth descended. The feel of her skin caused every muscle in his body to become tight with sexual tension.
Never breaking the kiss, Conan swept her up into his arms and entered his private chambers, heading directly to his bed.
Breaking off the kiss, he laid her down.
He eased back and simply stared at her quivering body laid out before him.
He had wanted her since he had first seen her standing in that small cottage doorway.
She had a body made for loving. Her waist was small, but her hips curved out slightly, creating a sexy contour to her body.
His gaze lowered to her dark mound and saw proof of her desire.
He couldn’t wait to touch every inch of her and slowly drifted a finger down her neck through the valley of her breasts.
Mhàiri instinctively arched herself against him as his hand moved across her stomach to the curve of her hip. He heard himself utter a thick, husky groan. “You are so beautiful,” he muttered, awed.
Mhàiri felt her whole body respond to the heavy, sensual weight of his eyes on her.
She wanted to live in this moment forever.
Conan wanted her. He had not yet promised her marriage and commitment.
But that was something she would worry about later.
Right now, she was solely focused on the massive male doing his best to make her breathless.
She moaned as her body heated to his touch, and the sound of his answering groan filled her with ecstasy.
He needed to claim her now. Unable to bear not touching her skin to skin, he stood up and removed his clothes.
Mhàiri had a few seconds to collect herself while he was in the process of removing his shirt.
She was beginning to comprehend that she was naked in Conan’s bed when he whipped off his leine and the sight of his muscular chest distracted her thoughts once again.
Massively built, with thick, corded muscles, Conan was impressive.
She wondered if the rest of him matched his size and girth.
He jerked his tartan off, baring all to her, and her light green eyes watched him with rapt fascination. Kneeling on the bed, Conan braced a massive arm on either side of her head, pausing before he sank down for another passionate kiss.
Mhàiri reached up as if to trace the hard lines of the muscles on his abdomen, hesitating before she made contact.
“Touch me, Mhàiri,” he said, part command, part plea. He had to hold back a groan when her hands softly began to stroke over his skin. His body felt hot, tight with tension. He was so hard, he feared he might burst.
Reaching out, Conan cupped one of her breasts in his hand so her nipple poked at the very center of his palm. “You are lovely, Mhàiri. You are so much more than I even dreamed.”
He was determined to make Mhàiri his. To seal her to him with passion and so much pleasure that thoughts of any other man would be impossible. Slamming his lips down on hers, he ravaged her mouth. He kept kissing her until he could not hold back any longer.
Mhàiri’s heart fluttered as she felt Conan stretch out beside her, his larger, heavier frame dwarfing hers.
His lips felt so good she could barely think of anything else.
She wanted to touch, to taste, to feel every inch of him, but she didn’t know what to do.
She tried to grab on to him, and he took both of her hands in one of his and raised them over her head.
Conan pulled away from her lips, his hot mouth trailing down to her neck. A whimper of need escaped her parted lips as he nipped at her earlobe, so he immediately repeated the action.
With his free hand, he ran one finger along the swell of one breast. “So soft,” he murmured as his fingers stroked over her skin.
Mhàiri jerked in surprise, but he caught her gasp in his mouth as he kissed her again.
Mhàiri’s heart thudded in her chest, and her blood roared in her ears as his eyes met hers, blazing with a hunger that made it hard for her to breathe. Shifting lower, he captured the nipple of her right breast in his mouth, tugging lightly at the peak with his teeth.
“Oh my God, that feels so good,” she moaned.
He hummed as he curled his tongue and drew her nipple into his mouth, suckling deeper. When Mhàiri shuddered, Conan moved to the other breast, kissing a soft line to the pink nub, flicking it carefully with his hot, wet tongue, pulling it fully into his mouth.
Mhàiri was on fire; she had never felt like this.
Her entire life, logic had ruled her actions.
Everything was thought out and calculated.
Sensation had never superseded control. But Conan’s touch was overwhelming.
She was not a master of her reactions. She needed more, and Conan was the only one who could give it to her.
She arched into his touch, desperate to feel his lips glide further down her body.
Conan switched to the other nipple, freeing her hands so he could slowly work his fingers down to her core and stroke her silken folds.
He trailed a single finger softly over her slit and then moved his finger inside her ever so slightly while stroking her outer flesh with a careful thumb, watching her melt.
He could not remember wanting anything more than this.
Mhàiri was giving herself to him, body and soul, in this one timely siege.
Mhàiri began undulating her hips to his rocking finger.
His lips returned to her breast as his fingers made slow, maddening movements.
The pressure began to build. Then he delved another finger inside her.
She cried out as it overwhelmed her, making her breaths short and fast, and her heart pound against the wall of her chest. She squeaked out a moan and opened wider for him.
The power he had over her was amazing. Her brain was usually a constant haze of thoughts and ideas, but when Conan touched her, there was nothing but him.
Tremors began in her belly, her muscles tightening, and then, without warning, her body shattered into a million tiny pieces. The only thing holding her together was him.
Conan let out a low growl as he watched sheer pleasure wash over her as her tight sheath clenched around him.
He wanted her to scream his name, to tell him that she was his.
He needed her to be as desperate for him as he was for her, and he damn well wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted.
The sounds of her moans were like the sweetest music, making him determined to drive her up again.
Hooking his hands beneath her knees, he slid her body down to the end of the bed, then knelt between her parted thighs.
Hungry for her, he leaned forward and used his tongue to lick at her juices.
He heard her cry out in shock, but didn’t stop.
He pushed one of his fingers into her and found her warm and slick.
He groaned while she sucked in a sharp breath.
He loved her reactions. He parted her tender folds with two of his fingers, once again stretching her to be ready for him, for she was so tight he knew he would lose his mind as soon as he was inside her.
Mhàiri arched off the bed, her back bowed as he drove her to another climax.
“It’s too much!” He drank down her passionate cry and felt her nails score his back.
Conan wanted to say that she was wrong, but he was past the ability to speak.
He had already waited too long to have her.
He was throbbing painfully. Pulling his fingers from her, he rose to his feet.
He reached for her waist and moved her back on the bed so she was lying in the center.
He moved over her, covering her perfect body with his.
Entering her, he found she was even smaller and tighter than he had thought, but oh so hot and so wet. His massive arms started to quiver. He did not want to hurt her.