If You Dare(65)
When his voice grew husky and he said, “I want my next kiss,” she met his gaze.
“Then take it,” she heard herself murmur.
He appeared surprised, just before he cupped her neck with one hand and grabbed her waist with the other, pulling her to him. With an “Oh!” she realized he was drawing her directly back onto his lap. When he had her positioned on him, he put his hands on her shoulders to rub his thumbs over the sides of her neck.
“This is getting in the way, lass,” he said as he began unfastening her choker.
“Oh, wait, you can’t just—”
“I’ll keep it safe for now.” He carefully rolled it up and placed it in his trouser pocket.
She was about to say more, but he began massaging her up and down her back. Yet even when her lids grew heavy, he didn’t kiss her. Again, she got the impression he was relishing that he was about to.
“MacCarrick,” she said plaintively, shocking herself. It was all the prodding he needed. He leaned her back over his arm and settled her lips beneath his. His other arm brushed over her sensitive nipples, and she moaned against him. He stilled his body, as if deciding something, then brought his hand up to grasp her breast. Another moan. Soon his hand on her breast felt vital, as if she’d beg for it if he took it away.
As he kissed her deeply, stroking her tongue with his own, he palmed her, running his hands over the material of her blouse. When she writhed against him, she felt his manhood beneath her bottom, huge, jutting from his groin. But he drew back. Her thinking was so muddled, her craving for his lips back on hers intense, and beneath her…all heat and hardness. She remembered how good he’d felt in the grotto growing harder and larger directly in her hand.
She felt air on her chest, followed by his hot breath.
How had he bared her? Her blouse open, he tugged down the gauzy material of her chemise, uncovering her breasts. He stared, eyes intent.
Two nights ago, there’d been the music, wine, and darkness, but this was daylight. She could feel herself blushing from her chest up to her face and began to scramble up. “No, Anna, let me see you.” He brushed the back of his hand over one breast, then the other, as if reverently. He grated some foreign word, but the way he said it…
“I-I don’t know. MacCarrick—?” She watched his brows draw together as he bent his head to her. And cried out when he dragged his tongue over her nipple. An urgent groaning sound came from him as he set to her breasts, licking the peaks as he had in the grotto. Who had ever heard of this before?
He closed his mouth on one and drew. Her back arched from the pleasure, her bottom grinding against him. He raised his face and grated, “Still, lass. You canna know what you’re doin’ tae me.”
She stiffened. “Am I hurting you?”
“Aye. Terribly.” His face was solemn, deadly serious when he said, “You usually do.”
When she didn’t relax, he cupped her other breast and suckled.
“But I don’t want to hurt you,” she said between panting breaths. She meant it—she didn’t like the idea of him hurting, and hated that she caused it.
Against her wet nipple, he rasped, “It will no’ much longer.”
Cool air on her legs. His palm rubbed its way up her thigh, well past her garters and higher…. She stiffened in his arms and pushed at his hand. He lowered it, but still caressed her thigh.
“I need tae touch you.”
“No!”
He put his lips to her earlobe and flicked his tongue against her.
“Oh!”
His hand inched higher. “Let me touch you there.”
“I can’t. You’ll be cruel to me.”
“Never,” he bit out.
“You were before.”
“Cruel? I was no’ tryin’ tae be. But you are now.” His brogue was growing thicker.
“I am not!”
“If you knew how much I want my fingers against you…You’ve got me at your mercy, Anna. I’d give anythin’ right now.” He pressed his face down against her breasts, nipped at the peaks, making her shoot up in his arms before he soothed her back down. “Name anything.”
He wanted this that badly? “Anything?”
“Right now I’d give my land, I’d sell my soul.”
“Only touching? Nothing more?”
“I’ll only do what you want me tae.”
She was about to be embarrassed. He should be vulnerable as well. “Then I-I want to feel you, too—without your trousers—”
In an instant, and amid a fierce groan, he set her beside him. He looked to her and then nodded to his groin. When she stared helplessly at his erection straining against his trousers—how exactly did one begin this?—he twisted loose the waist fastening. He seemed to be preparing for something as he glanced around to snag a seat cushion. He placed it behind her, then eased her back, hooking the hems of her skirts with his thumbs and raising them to her waist. Again a palm against her thighs, massaging her resistance away.