Page 51 of The Laird's Secret Bairn

“No kissing,” she reminded him, breathless.

“I remember the rule, lass.” His thumb traced slow circles against her pulse point. “It still stands, then?”

“It stands.” A pause, her breath catching as his hands slid to the hem of her skirts. “Though I couldnae rightly tell ye why anymore.”

“I ken why, even if ye willnae say it.”

Skye kept silent.

“Are ye comfortable, lass?” His voice was low, careful in a way that undid her more than any bold words could have. “Tell me if ye’re nae. I’ll stop the moment ye ask it of me.”

“I’m comfortable.” The words came out barely above a whisper, her hands already fisting in the fabric of her skirts, anticipation coiled tight in every inch of her. “Please, Dougal.”

It was a far cry from the woman who had been unsure the first time they had been together. She had seemed so confused, surprised by everything. But this time he could see her desire. She was no longer confused. She craved the pleasure he was offering her, craved release.

But Dougal was not a fool. He knew she was inexperienced. The fact that he was the first one to touch her, the first one to make her climax, filled him with a desire he had once thought dead and nonexistent.

He pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to the inside of her knee, feeling her shiver beneath his touch, and told himself once more that a month was nothing.

But he was already beginning to doubt it, and the doubt sat strangely in his chest, unfamiliar as most things about her had become since she’d first arrived at the castle, pages in hand, her stubbornness bright and unmistakable in her eyes that first evening.

He didn’t have to wait long for her to do or say anything. She was already breathing heavily, her body trembling in anticipation of the pleasure he was about to give her. She was becoming so wanton that he grew half hard right then.

The desire had been there the first night he had tasted her. It was about giving her pleasure. It was about taking her apart and putting her back together.

She let out a desperate whine and jerked her hips as he trailed playful kisses up and down her inner thighs. Sometimes his lips would come close to her sex, but then he would move right back to her thighs.

Another whine of frustration escaped her, but he paid it no mind. He was going to give her pleasure at his own pace.

He kept teasing her until she was dripping, her legs quivering with anticipation. Then he slid one finger over her swollen nether lips. She cried out, and he chuckled, positive she was about to break down and beg him for more.

Dougal pressed a firm kiss to her bud, and she jerked, biting back a whimper.

“Daenae stifle yer moans,” he murmured against her, his warm breath tickling the lips of her sex.

She cried out when he pressed another kiss to her bud, before his tongue slid down to her entrance, teasing it. Her hips bucked, wanting more pressure and friction. She needed him to touch her deeper, needed him to give her release.

He continued teasing her, his tongue flicking against her bud while his fingers teased her entrance. She babbled, begging him for more. His soft, teasing touches were driving her insane, and she couldn’t stand it.

It hadn’t even been that long. How was she so close to losing it already?

Finally, he slid his tongue inside her. His thumb pressed firmly against her swollen bud, making her eyes almost roll to the back of her head.

Between his thumb and tongue, she was a mess. Words spilled past her lips, but she could not make sense of them. She sank her teeth into her lower lip and spread her legs as far as she could, giving him better access.

He cupped her buttocks and buried his face further into her sex. She cried out as his tongue thrust in and out of her, pushing her closer to the edge.

How was he managing to stay so calm?

This woman was going to be his undoing. Dougal could see that now.

His length was throbbing within the confines of his trousers, but he ignored it. His sole focus was to make Skye climax once again.

She shattered with a sharp, breathless cry, her body arching hard as the climax crashed through her in powerful waves. Dougal held her through every pulse, his mouth still working her until the last tremor faded and her hips finally stilled.

When it was over, she nearly slumped in her chair. He pulled down her skirts and then helped her to her feet. Only then did Dougal ease away, gently drawing her skirts back into place before rising and helping her to her feet, steadying her with a firm hand at her waist when her legs threatened to give way.

“We should go to bed,” he said, his voice thick with desire.