Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
And now it is me turn to please ye, wife.
Isabelle’s breath caught as Declan’s words echoed in her mind. A nervousness passed through her. It was all too much to take in at once.
First the sight of his nude form, then of his rigid flesh. It had utterly shocked her. However, touching him and bringing him to bliss pleased her greatly.
He drew her close, his arms strong around her. His lips found hers in a kiss that was fierce and demanding yet strangely tender beneath the fire.
She felt warmth spread through her chest, every nerve alive under the press of his hands, the heat of his body pressed against hers. Her fingers tangled in his long hair, holding him closer, wanting to memorize the strength and presence of him.
“Ye are maddening, Isabelle,” he murmured against her lips, the words rough and yet full of longing. “And ye make it impossible to stay away.” His voice trembled as desire and frustration mingled.
Every brush of his hand along her arms, the gentle grip on her waist, made her pulse race. She shivered under the intensity, the closeness of him awakening a part of her she hadn’t realized existed.
Declan tilted her chin, forcing her gaze to meet his, and his eyes burned with hunger and need.
“Look at me, Isabelle,” he commanded softly, and she obeyed, caught in the gravity of his presence. Her hands traced the hard planes of his shoulders, marveling at the taut strength beneath his skin.
“I am terrified of being pleasured, and yet I cannae resist ye,” she admitted, her voice breathy.
He pressed a little closer, arms sliding around her, holding her against him, and she felt the warmth of his chest, the power in the sweep of his muscles.
“Ye drive me mad with that delicate hand of yers,” he growled though the words softened against her hair.
She pressed her forehead to his, feeling the heat of him seep into her own skin, the rapid beat of her heart matching his.
“Then perhaps ye will have to learn to live with madness, me Laird ,” she teased, daring him, and his hand tightened slightly at her waist in response.
Their lips met again, softer this time, exploring, teasing, lingering, and Isabelle felt a thrill shoot through her as he held her.
Every brush of his fingers across her arms, the gentle sweep along her back, made her pulse quicken.
“Ye are mine, Isabelle, and I will protect ye, but I also want to taste ye more,” he murmured, voice low and rough, pressing his forehead against hers.
Isabelle let her hands roam over his chest and arms, feeling the taut muscles beneath, and marveling at the power he radiated.
“I’ve never felt like this before,” she whispered, voice soft, nearly lost in the heat of the moment.
He lowered his hand to her breast, brushing his lips along her cheek, and she gasped at the intimate closeness.
“Nor I,” he admitted, “and I’ll never tire of it nor of ye.”
He pulled her day dress off, leaving her in her almost sheer nightshift. He pulled her nightshift up slowly, and Isabelle was confused.
What is happening? Will we go too far?
She let his hands roam gently along her legs up to her thighs, his thumbs tracing soothing patterns as if anchoring her to him.
“Ye’ve a fire in ye that cannae be tamed, Isabelle,” he said, voice rough, “yet I will try.”
She leaned back as he opened her thighs gently. She found it shocking inhaling his scent, feeling her body relax in the embrace, yet trembling under the intensity of his gaze.
“Dinnae be afraid of me touch, Isabelle. Yer virtue will remain intact,” he said.
She felt his hand move between her thighs, and she lost control. Her breath sucked in, sharp and fast. His dark eyes locked on her as he moved his thumb against a place that felt most tender to his touch.
“Aye, there it is, lass,” he said.
She bit her lower lip as his thumb moved in soft circles. Her thighs opened wider as she sat on that chair, unsure of why she was doing what she was doing.
“Ye are mine, Isabelle, and that means all of ye. This, yer most sacred of places, is mine and nae one else’s,” he whispered, the heat in his words making her stomach tighten.
A blush heated her face. He cupped her gently, thumb brushing along her rosebud, and she felt a delicious warmth flood through her.
“I dinnae ken what comes over me…” she confessed softly, voice trembling.
“Nor I,” he admitted, teasing her flesh, “and I dinnae wish to find out for fear of losing my wits entirely.”
Isabelle moaned softly, heart fluttering, letting herself melt into the safety and intensity of him. The sensation deep in her belly growing with every pressing of his thumb.
“Does this touch please ye?” he asked.
“Aye, beyond words I can say,” she whispered.
“I dinnae ken I can stand it any longer. I must have a taste of ye,” he said.
With those words, he swiped everything off the table with his long arm. Isabelle was startled by his intensity. He picked her up as if she weighed nothing at all. Her arms went around his shoulders as he lifted her.
Then he set her down on the table.
“I must see all of ye as ye have seen me,” he groaned.
With a move so sudden, she did not know what was happening, he ripped her nightshift in two, down the middle.
“Declan!” she gasped, utterly stunned by his move.
He stepped back a moment. She watched as his eyes roamed freely over her breasts, her pink buds taut with passion, then further down to her soft mound of curls between her thighs.
He growled, “Ye are a bonnie, lass. Wars could be started over such beauty.”
Isabelle felt vulnerable and embarrassed by her nudity, yet filled with lust at the same time. She had never thought of herself as beautiful, nor did she think he ever could, but there was no time for her ponderings.
He pressed his lips against a breast and fondled the other with his large hand. Isabelle swelled with desire. She had never felt such flutterings of delight ignite her skin.
In the next moment he kissed down her belly. She felt him grab her feet and place them on the table, bending her knees.
“What are ye doin’, Laird?” she whispered.
“What I’ve wanted to do since I first saw ye. Tasting ye,” he groaned.
He plunged his face between her thighs. Isabelle released a loud moan. She had no idea this was what a man did with his wife. He pressed kisses against her and moved his tongue along her sacred place.
She felt a dizziness overcome her. One hand, she buried in his long hair while she placed the other on the table to rest on. She opened her thighs wider, allowing him to please her.
The same way he had moved his thumb over her tender spot, he now moved his tongue.
She felt pleasure deep within. Isabelle was unsure if this was a normal feeling for such an act as it bordered on bliss and a tickling sensation.
“Oh, Declan. What is this feeling? I dinna ken what it is,” she whispered.
“I do, lass,” he groaned. “It is meant to be this way. Enjoy it. Allow yerself to climb toward mounting that will burst into a release. Ye shall see.”
Isabelle bit her lower lip. She wondered if restraint might be a better path because allowing this to continue simply felt too good.
“I… there’ s…” but she could not bring herself to stop it. Instead, she moaned wildly under his touch.
“That’s it, lass. Let me pleasure ye as ye have me,” he whispered.
She felt his tongue flick on her tender button with more pressure. A gasp escaped her. The wetness gathering between her thighs shocked her.
The pulsing continued to grow. She felt like she could hardly stay in place.
Declan looked up at her. Isabelle saw his eyes focus on her jiggling breasts as she moved.
“Ye will drive me mad moving like that, Isabelle,” Declan said.
Isabelle didn’t know how else to move. Her body seemed to do what it wanted whether she wanted it to or not. She watched as he reached a large hand up to one breast and gently squeezed her rosebud. Isabelle moaned louder. The pleasure from being touched in so many places set her on fire.
“Declan… something is happening… ” she whispered between heavy panting.
Declan didn’t respond. He only moved his tongue faster. His fingers brushing her breast with skill.
The trembling built to an explosive release. A tremor tore through Isabelle. Her entire body shuddered. She moaned so loudly, she thought the entire castle might hear, yet in that moment, she did not care.
“Oh, Declan,” she moaned over and over again.
A delicious warmth came over her.
She felt him lick her softly, drinking her juices. She lay back on the table, unable to do anything else. The flood of pulses and vibrations continued to flutter within.
If this is what’s meant to happen between husband and wife, then I look forward to the day of consummation.