The Raider (Highland Guard #8)(94)

She slid her hand down the front of his chest, trailing her fingers over the flexed muscles of his stomach, and touched him. She took him in her sweet little hand, wrapped her soft fingers around him, and gave him a perfect squeeze that made him suck in his breath as pleasure shot from the base of his spine. He made a pained sound, gritting his teeth against the fierce sensations and the nearly overwhelming need to let go.

But he didn’t. God help him, he somehow managed to keep his body under control. But for how long, with her touching him like this?

She remembered too well how he’d taught her to stroke him. Remembered how to squeeze and milk with long, hard pumps that went from base to tip.

He had to make her stop.

He didn’t want her to ever stop.

His heart hammered. The muscles in his arms almost buckled as he fought to keep himself propped over her as she tortured him with her sweet stroking. It felt so good, he just wanted to…

He felt himself pulse and knew he couldn’t let it go on. The first time wasn’t the time to test the limits of his control. “Now, sweetheart,” he said tightly. “I need to be inside you.”

Their eyes met. She unwrapped her hand from around him and let him guide himself into position. He parted her legs, letting the soft skin of her thighs rest against his. They were both still half-dressed, and her skirts were bunched up around her waist. He was tempted to rip them off her once again but didn’t think he could take one more delay.

Next time, he swore. Next time he’d take his time and do it slow and easy. But right now, all he could think about was being inside her.

She sucked in her breath when the fat tip met the silky flesh. Or maybe that sound was his, since his entire body seemed to be hit with a bolt of lightning at that first incredible contact. It took everything he had not to sink into her. To just let the sensation roll over him in wave after shuddering wave.

Their eyes met, and he could see the twinge of fear creep up behind the sated haze. A fresh wave of tenderness rose in his chest. Leaning over, he kissed her. Gently, and with all the emotion burgeoning from deep inside him. From a place he hadn’t known existed. He murmured soft words against her skin. Told her it would be all right. Told her he would care for her. Told her to trust him. He would make it good.

Even if it bloody well killed him. That he said in Gaelic.

He rocked his hips against her slowly, letting her get used to the feel of him between her thighs. Letting the thick tip tease and circle until she started to squirm against him. Until she was soft and wet and breathing hard and her hips started to lift, seeking more friction.

Every second was exquisite torture. Somehow he found the strength to hold back when every instinct in his body was clamoring to sink into that tight silken glove.

Instead he turned the rocking to a slow push.

Tight. Oh God, she was so tight. That was his first thought. The second was that she was warm and wet. The third was that his head was going to explode, he was so out of his mind with pleasure. That he’d never felt anything so good in his life. That every inch, every gasp, every minute their eyes stayed locked together he was flying closer to heaven.

He paused only once. He gazed into the big, beautiful green eyes that locked on his. Some last vestige of conscience managed to seep through, and he gave her a look in silent question. He would have found the strength to pull back if she’d asked him to. But she didn’t.

“Please, Robbie,” she whispered softly.

He didn’t hesitate again. With a hard thrust, he took her.

Mine. The knowledge was fierce, primal, and too overwhelming to deny. A lightning bolt of pleasure shot up his spine, gripping him from head to toe.

Her cry of pain tore through his pleasure like a jagged knife. He soothed her as best he could, peppering gentle kisses on her face and lips and holding himself completely still—which might have been the hardest thing he’d ever done—until her shock eased.

She stared at him, trying to blink away tears.

“I’m sorry, mo ghrá,” he said, kissing the salty dampness from her eyes and lashes. “I would take the pain from you if I could.”

Her smile was tremulous at best. “It’s not so bad,” she said so bravely, he almost laughed.

“Hardly a testament to my lovemaking skills, but I promise it will get better.”

“Anytime soon?” she squeaked, her voice high-pitched.

He brushed aside a silky lock of golden hair that had become tangled in her lashes. “Aye,” he said huskily, right before his mouth covered hers. If it killed him, he would bring her pleasure.

He’d never had to seduce a woman before, but he did so now. He kissed the pleasure back into her body with long, soothing strokes of his tongue and mouth. He teased, enticed, and told her wordlessly exactly how he would love her with his body.

Slowly, he could feel her tension ease. Her fingers were no longer clutching the bedsheets at her side but were wrapped around his shoulders. And then they were clutching him. Gently at first, and then more insistently. He loved to feel her delicate fingers digging into his arms. The visceral sensation of her pleasure heightened his own.

He tried not to think about how good it felt. How good she felt. How her body gripped him like a tight, hot glove. Or how incredible it was going to feel when he could move. When he could slide in and out, hard and deep.

But she was making it damned difficult. Her body was so soft and sweet and warm. And welcoming. Aye, he could feel her opening for him. Feel the tight clamp of her muscles begin to soften and dampen around him.