20 ONLY YOU AND ME
“EASY, LARA.” ALAR stroked his fingers up the inside of one of her thighs. His fingers brushed the nest of soft auburn hair between her legs then, and she squeaked. He glanced up at her, his iron gaze glinting, before he stroked her again in the same place. This time, she bit down on her lower lip.
She couldn’t believe she’d made such a noise.
And then, his finger slid down, into the cleft between her spread thighs.
She gasped, a tremor rippling through her.
In response, Alar murmured something she didn’t catch under his breath. A moment later, he parted her with his other hand, exposing her fully to his hot gaze.
Lara’s eyes flickered shut, humiliation washing over her. What an idiot she was. Why had she insisted they do this?
He started to caress her with the pad of a finger then, stroking, rubbing, and circling. Gently.
Sensation clutched at her lower belly, and her eyes snapped open to find Alar looking up at her, watching her reaction. “How’s that then?”
She stared back at him before swallowing hard. Words failed her.
In return, he favored her with a wicked smile. He lifted his other hand then, and, while continuing to stroke her, slid a long finger into her. “And this?”
Lara shuddered, and she bit down hard on her lower lip. Gods!
He moved his finger in and out of her before inserting another.
A moment later, he curled his fingers up, touching a place deep inside her that made her choke back a gasp.
She became aware then of just how aroused she was.
Legs splayed wide, she stared down at where his hands slowly worked her.
Wet sounds filled the alcove. This shouldn’t feel so delicious, but it did.
Her thighs started to tremble, tension coiling low in her belly.
Her gasp filled the alcove as she climbed to the brink. She couldn’t help it; she was pushing her hips against him now, encouraging him deeper, while his finger circled the swollen pearl of flesh above her hungry quim.
“Aye,” he murmured, a rasp to his voice. “That’s it … let go.”
A moment later, she did. Her head fell back, her body shuddering as pleasure crested like a wave and then pulsed through her loins.
Trembling, she collapsed onto the sheepskin, panting. She looked up at Alar then, but he wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he was watching the fire, his gaze wide.
“What is it?” Lara gasped, breathless from her climax.
“The fire in the hearth just flared bright,” he replied. “As did the burning cressets.”
She froze. Shit. Had the flames surrounding her responded to her loss of control? No, that couldn’t be right. “It’s windy outdoors,” she answered, still breathless. “There must have been a draft.”
He inclined his head, considering her explanation for a moment before accepting it. And then, as she lay there, spread out before him, her body flushed and damp with sweat, he rose smoothly to his feet.
A moment later, he started unlacing his breeches.
Lara couldn’t help it; her gaze slid down his lean torso to where the bold outline of his erection pressed against snug leather. Earlier, she’d panicked at the sight of his leather-clad groin, but she didn’t now. Instead, curiosity wreathed up.
She couldn’t believe she wanted to see him, but she did.
Alar pushed down his breeches and kicked them aside. His shaft had sprung up against his belly—long, thick, and slightly tapered. Its end leaked. Alar sank to his knees before her and took himself in hand, sliding his fist up and down its swollen length.
Lara started to sweat.
What a sight.
“Are you ready?” His voice was throaty, his gaze ravenous now. “Or shall I tease you for a bit longer?”
Sweat beaded across her chest at the sensual promise in his words. There was a traitorous part of her that wanted to rise to the challenge and ask him to do just that. However, she reminded herself that they needed to get this over with.
“I’m ready,” she replied huskily. “If you are?”
The smile he gave her then made her pulse go wild. “Oh, aye,” he murmured. “You have no idea, lass.”
The Mother preserve me.
He shifted between her spread thighs once more and positioned the slick head of his rod at her entrance. But as he did so, fear flickered up again. It had hurt when Dunchadh took her. Hot, tearing agony that went on and on. Would there be pain now too?
Holding her gaze, a teasing smile still tugging at his lips, Alar eased himself into her. She’d tensed, and was tight, but he didn’t rush her. Instead, he slowly rolled his hips, gently pressing against her.
And eventually, she opened for him.
Once again, his calmness quieted her fear, as did his ability to bring humor into this intimate moment.
However, the feel of his solid heat sliding deep, stretching her, made a whimper claw up her throat.
When he was all the way in, he let her adjust to him. Moments slid by, and then he undulated his hips. Pleasure rippled through her lower belly. Wetness flooded her loins, and she started to tremble.
Alar stared down at her, sweat glistening on his forehead and cheeks. He wasn’t smiling now. Instead, his lean face was taut, his skin pulled tight across his high cheekbones. He almost looked as if he were in pain.
“Are you all right?” she asked breathlessly.
“Aye.” His grey eyes gleamed as they held her fast. “Words fail me.”
Lara couldn’t help it; she gave a soft snort. “Well, that’ll be a first.”
His lips twitched. “Sometimes, talk isn’t what’s needed.” And then he began to ride her in slow, deep strokes, holding her thighs apart as he did so.
Lara swallowed a groan. She’d only recently peaked, but with each thrust, something started to build inside her once more. Her eyes fluttered shut. The way he filled her, stretched her. She wanted more of him. And like earlier, she pushed up against him then, encouraging him.
Grunting, Alar pushed one of her legs up, holding it fast under the knee, so that he could penetrate deeper.
She bit down on her lower lip, her thighs trembling as tension coiled again. Moments later, wild pleasure twisted in her womb. She gave a strangled cry.
He rolled his hips and plunged into her again. “That’s good, is it?”
“Gods!” she gasped.
His lips curved into a wicked, sensual smile. “The Five aren’t here tonight, Lara,” he murmured. “Only you and me.”
The gravelly edge to his voice made her stomach muscles clench. His words were blasphemy, yet they sounded like a promise.
He took her in deep, measured strokes that stoked the fire in her belly.
Lara stared up at him, transfixed. She had no idea sex could feel like this. After Dunchadh, she’d looked upon a man’s prick as an instrument of domination and torture. Tonight, she discovered that not all lovers were like her first husband. Some actually wanted to give their woman pleasure.
And as Alar took her, his own self-control frayed.
Panting, she continued to watch his face, fascinated. His expression was raw, almost feral. Sweat now gleamed upon his torso, his lean frame quivering as he climbed toward his own climax. “Fuck!” he choked out.
His reaction unleashed her, and she bucked against him, slapping a hand over her mouth to smother a cry.
Alar thrust deep one last time while his body arched back.
The cords of his neck tightened, and a nerve flickered in his cheek. He squeezed his eyes shut, his body trembling as he spilled inside her.
“I meant to be gentler than that.”
Lara pushed herself off his sweat-damp chest, her gaze settling on Alar’s face.
He lay on his back on the sheepskins. Following their coupling, they’d collapsed there—and to her surprise, he’d pulled her close.
There they’d lain, the rasp of their breathing joining the crackle of the hearth. “You were gentle,” she assured him.
Alar pulled a face. “At the start maybe … but then I got carried away.”
Her belly fluttered. Aye, he had. And curse her, she’d enjoyed seeing his mask slip.
“Thank you,” she said, averting her gaze then. “I was dreading that more than you know.”
He huffed. “I won’t take that personally.”
“Please don’t.”
Her hand slid across his smooth chest, tracing the lines of the wolf’s head tattoo.
Once again, those eyes seemed to stare directly at her.
Unnerved, she slid her fingertips up, across his collarbone, to the silvered scar upon his throat.
She shouldn’t be touching him so boldly, but in the aftermath of their coupling, she couldn’t help herself.
The memory of his tale about being strung up on that pine and left to die made something deep in her chest tighten.
Her fingers continued their leisurely progress, up, to the second scar. This one slashed down from his forehead to almost parallel with his mouth. “Will you tell me how you got this?” she asked softly.
He didn’t answer, and her gaze lifted to meet his.
He pulled a face, and she braced herself for his refusal.
However, a moment later, he surprised her by answering.
“When I was a bairn, my mother and I lived amongst others … in a village near Dorne Forest. We shared a bothy with my grandparents. My grandfather was a woodcutter … a big man with a soft heart.” Something flickered in the depths of his iron eyes then.
“He suspected that his grandson wasn’t right .
My mother refused to speak about my father …
but my grandparents had an idea of what had happened. They never shunned us though.”
He paused then, his jaw tightening. “As I grew from an infant to a child, the villagers grew suspicious. They whispered that I was strange and sly … that the woodcutter’s wild daughter had fucked someone she shouldn’t have.”
Lara winced. His expression had hardened now. Suddenly, she wished she hadn’t asked about the scar.
“One day, my grandfather took me to the village market,” he went on.
“I was no older than four … and excited by all the sights and sounds. But then, one of the villagers … the ironsmith … came at me with a blade, shouting that a half-blood couldn’t be allowed to live.
He slashed my face … but when he tried to stab me through the chest, my grandfather stopped the blade.
It severed a large vein in his neck … and he bled out then and there. ”
Lara stiffened, her skin prickling at the brutality of his tale.
“The local chieftain had the ironsmith hanged for what he did … but things were never the same between our family and the villagers after that.” Reaching up, Alar traced that silvered scar with his thumb. “And there you have it.”
Lara swallowed, her throat suddenly tight. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Irritation flickered over his face. “Why? It wasn’t your doing.”
“No, but I shouldn’t have asked.”
His lips quirked then. “You’re curious about the man you married,” he replied, his voice softening. “It’s understandable.”