With a soft moan, she quested back with her bottom. The sound ripped into his groin, stringing his testicles tight. Dropping his head forward, he cupped her jaw, slanted her face around, and kissed her, deep and long, pumping his hard shaft against her lush behind.
He walked her forward, one hand at her waist keeping her pressed back to him, the other on her chin. He nipped at her kiss-glossed, lush lips, tasting her with slow, firm sucking pulls. He trailed more kisses over the delicate shape of her ear, down the edge of her jaw, over her neck. He continued walking her forward until he walked them into something, not caring what piece of furniture it might be, so long as he found one.
Something to lay her down on would be good.
Ah, his descendant’s desk—better still! Groping blindly, he shoved everything off it, heedless of the crashing, tinkling sounds of objects hitting the floor. Filling his hands with her lush breasts, he bent her forward, over the ornately carved, cool wood. She gasped, bracing her palms on the high-glossed desk.
He needed to be inside her. Nothing less than final, incontrovertible proof that she’d chosen him for her man would sate him now. Reluctantly relinquishing those heavy breasts that jiggled so perfectly, so womanly, with his every thrust, he slipped his hands down to her jeans. “I’m going to take you now, lass.”
She jerked and arched her delicate spine, glancing over her shoulder at him. Her eyes were as wild as he knew his must be. “Yes,” she said raggedly. “Please, Cian.”
Please, Cian. He could listen to her say those words for the rest of eternity! Die a happy man, hearing her beg carnal pleasure from him. Die trying to give it to her, any way she wanted it.
“Are you wet for me, Jessica?” He knew she was. He could smell her woman’s heat. But he wanted her to say it. Wanted to hear her talk about how he made her feel, how she felt about him.
“I always am around you.” She sounded both marveling and miffed by the admission.
“Does that fash you, lass?”
“I’ve never felt, ooh!”—she gasped when he ground himself in a slow circle against her as he slowly undid the top button of her jeans—“this way before. I’m always turned on, and I can’t seem to turn it off.”
“It makes you feel out of control.”
“Yes.” She sounded fully miffed and not at all marveling now.
“You’re supposed to be out of control for your man, lass. That’s the way of passion. Think you passion is tidy? Neat?” He laughed. “Hardly. Not in my bed.”
“What about the man?” she demanded. “Is he out of control for the woman?”
He grunted. A man could never completely lose control with his woman. At least not a man his size with a woman her size. Still, that didn’t mean he wasn’t out of control in his thoughts, in his gut. He was. Just looking at her made something in him that had always been wild to begin with, even wilder. “I’m always hard for you. I got hard the moment I saw you that first night. And, nay, lass, I can’t turn it off, either. But unlike you, I doona try to. I give into the heat. The need. The pain of the hunger. I savor wanting you, lusting for you, thinking about all the things I’m going to do to you.” He cupped a cheek of her jean-clad ass in each big palm, squeezed. His voice deepened to a sexy, hot purr: “I relish every last thought of taking you, of knowing you as completely and intimately as a man can know his woman. And I’m going to know every inch of you, lass. You want that, doona you, Jessica?”
“Yes,” she moaned.
“By the time I’m done with you, you’ll never be able to forget me. I’m going to burn myself into you so deep that you’ll bear the imprint of me beneath your skin for the rest of your life. Tell me you want me to, Jessica.” Forgive me now for sins you doona even know I’m committing.
“I want you t—oooh!” Her reply turned into a gasp when he thrust strongly against her.
He smiled with dark satisfaction. There was too much clothing between them. He needed to feel her slick and wet and tight, closing on him. Popping the remaining two buttons of her jeans, he shoved them down over her hips, baring her luscious little ass.
He sucked in a ragged breath, pushed her jeans to her ankles, but no farther, leaving her feet caught in them.
“You want to feel me inside you, lass?”
“Yes!”
“Slow and easy, or hard and fast? What would you have of me, Jessica?”
“Yes,” she wailed.
He laughed, a deep rumble of masculine triumph. A man dreamed of an unconditional “aye” from such an exquisite woman.
Lifting her hips, he repositioned her the way he wanted her. Nudging her feet back, he pushed her thighs apart until her knees bent to accommodate the angle, and stepped between them. Catching her jeans behind his boots, he kicked back, drawing them taut at her ankles, pinning her helplessly in her jeans, trapping her between his big body and the desk.