Chapter Fifteen #3
His shoulder was next to her face and Mara found herself tracing the powerful lines of his muscles, touching the large veins that bulged through the skin.
Her small fingers moved upward, feeling the stubble of his neck and tickling the cleft in his chin.
Involved in her exploration, she propped herself up on an elbow to inspected his ears, noting that the lobes were perfectly formed.
Finding a tiny scar just under his jaw, she was in the process of examining it when Kirk groaned softly.
“You’re going to be the death of me, lass.”
She smiled. “What do you mean by that?”
His eyes rolled open, clouded with sleep. “What I mean is that I would like to sleep. I should sleep, considering I have lost a good deal of blood.” A great hand came up, cupping her chin. “But all I can think of at this moment is making love to you until the sun rises.”
She put her face in his neck, nuzzling his scratchy skin. “I thought I might lose you today, Kirk. And the thought of you going to Ireland to quell a rebellion frightens me to death. If you were to die…”
“I will not,” he said firmly, grunting as he rolled off the bed.
Pulling back the coverlet he had been sleeping on, he removed his hose and climbed into bed beside Mara.
Gathering her in his arms, he sighed raggedly at the feel of her delicious body.
“Trust me, love. Never doubt that I shall return to you.”
Her naked skin against his, Mara was giddily content. “But what if you do not? What if you die and I am left with nothing?” She wrapped her arms around his neck, bright blue eyes melding with stone-gray. “Give me something to remember you by.”
He grinned, kissing her chin, her cheek. “Gladly. Other than my body and soul, what else would you have?”
She stared off into the darkness of the room as his lips moved down her neck. “A son.”
He stopped. Abruptly, he pulled away, staring at her. “What did you say?”
Mara was resolute. “I want a son.” She touched his face, smiling in response to his shock. “Why does this surprise you? We are to be married, are we not? Whether I conceive now or on our wedding night will make no difference.”
Odd that she was reflecting his own thoughts on the night he had taken her maidenhood. A son. But not so odd considering how much they thought alike. Or how very much they felt for one another.
“But… Mara, we shall not be married until I return from Ireland,” he said. “There will not be time before I leave. And I could be gone months, lass. Time enough for your condition to announce to the world our ill restraint.”
“You would be ashamed, then?”
“Never. But I would not want you to feel ashamed or humiliated.”
“Bearing your child would make me proud.” She continued to smile.
“You once told Edmund that we take whatever child God gives us, male or female. And the same can be said for the timing of the child, Kirk. We have no control over such things. For all we know, I have already conceived considering this sin we have committed was established by God to create a child. Has that not occurred to you?”
He nodded vaguely, swallowed by the emotion from the bright blue eyes. “It has. And so has something else.”
“What is that?”
His eyes twinkled. “Your sister was right. You do have a good deal of common sense, though you like to pretend otherwise.”
Mara laughed softly. “And my common sense tells me that I want your son, no matter what the cost. A son for the great Master of Anchorsholme.”
“It could be a lass.”
“Would you be disappointed?”
“Perish the thought.”
Mara gazed at him, feeling the pull of emotion overwhelm her. Lowering her head, she brushed her lips against his. “Then give me your son, Kirk Connaught,” she breathed against his mouth. “Give me your life so that you will never, ever leave me.”
He growled, pulling her tight against him and plunging his tongue into her mouth. Mara wrapped her legs around him as he rolled on top of her, feeling his weight and power with the greatest of joy.
“Kirk,” she gasped as his lips moved to her breast. “I do love you. I love you with all my heart.”
He paused, his gray eyes filled with emotion. “Oh, Mara,” he whispered. “You know the feeling is very, very mutual. I cannot remember when I have not loved you.”
There were tears in her eyes. “When I raked my nails across your face?”
He shook his head. “Not even then.” He lifted himself so he was level with her gaze. “But if it worries you so, then make amends to me.”
She kissed his scabs, so tenderly that Kirk could literally feel her reverence. “There,” she murmured. “Better?”
“Hmm, much.” He kissed her in return, gathering her against him once more. “And it shall be better still.”
Mara wrapped her legs around his hips, feeling his arousal push at her.
Kirk’s hand was to her breast, his lips against her forehead, her cheek, as he murmured words of love and desire.
With every caress, every kiss, the fire in her loins grew and she thrust her pelvis forward, capturing the tip of his seeking manhood.
Kirk groaned, bracing himself, as he finished what she had started by pushing deep into her body.
The first heavy thrust rocked her. Mara gasped with pleasure, lifting her arms and grasping the bedpost for support as he thrust into her again and again. She was slick with passion, fully prepared to accept all of the maleness he had to offer.
“Harder, Kirk,” she breathed. “Do it… harder.”
He nearly exploded, her words of lust driving him to the brink. But he controlled himself, obeying her command by pumping firmly into her responsive little body. Mara squirmed and panted, lifting her pelvis to meet him, demanding pleasure only he could supply.
The world rocked. Mara could feel Kirk’s hand on her breasts as he drove into her, pinching her nipples into hard pellets. Her legs held him tight, squeezing him against her as the heat of desire mounted.
Mara savored the exquisite blaze in her loins, remembering how Kirk had so ably doused the fire with his magical touch. And she wanted to experience the same pleasure again. Releasing the bedpost, she pulled his mouth to her swollen lips.
“Make me feel as you did last night,” she whispered between heated kisses. “The pleasure… the feelings, Kirk. Bring them back to me.”
“In time, love.” He suddenly rolled onto his back, still joined to her. “All in good time.”
Mara gasped with the swift movement as she ended up on top of him. Kirk grinned up at her, both hands moving to her supple breasts.
“You wanted feelings, love?” He thrust his hips upward, slowly. “The make your own feelings. Ride me as I ride you.”
Hair wildly askew, Mara looked puzzled. Kirk moved again, encouragingly, until she timidly took the lead. Pushing herself up, she grinned wickedly when he groaned.
“Like this?” She slid down on him and pushed up again. Repeating the process, she watched Kirk twitch and moan. “Do you like this?”
He nodded weakly, his eyes closed. “Christ, woman. I am mere putty in your hands.”
Mara grinned. She could make her own wonderful feelings by impaling herself on him, sliding the length of his shaft and feeling her body shudder with delight.
The rhythm soon became steady, the pulse pounding, and in little time Mara felt the familiar explosion ripple through her groin.
Kirk held her hips firmly, feeling her muscles milk him, demanding his seed. He could not help but answer.