Oh, St. Kelsi’s eardrums, did she ever! With a needy sort of mewling sound—which might’ve been embarrassing to admit under any other circumstances—Robena planted her weight on her heels and pressed her arse off the blankets, trying to get closer to the object of such pleasure.
Mayhap, if her body hadn’t already been so desperate for him, this would’ve taken longer. But as ‘twas, she felt her orgasm building behind her core, each gentle ministration of his tongue—his teeth! His lips!—sending her ever closer.
“So soft,” he murmured. “So wet. So wet for me.”
“Aye!” she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut. “Kester, aye.”
He was being so gentle, as if knowing her nerve-endings were raw with need. ‘Twas that consideration, more than anything else, which sent her over the edge.
Well, that, and the fact he happened to close his lips around her clitoris at that exact moment.
So really, it was that. And the fact he slid an extra finger into her. And the consideration.
And really, all of that together? She was powerless to resist.
With a gasp, she arched against his mouth as her pleasure burst over her, bright colors swirling behind her eyes. She bucked, but he continued his torture, and then he hummed.
And really, how was a woman supposed to handle a man as desirable as Kester humming?
She screamed his name.
The colors continued, but she remembered to breathe, and after a thousand pounding heartbeats, she felt herself beginning to come back down to earth.
That was when Kester pulled his fingers from inside her, lifted his head, and crawled up her body.
Really, there wasn’t any other way to describe it; one moment, he was lying between her thighs, supping at her, and the next, he was looming over her, his weight braced on one hand as the other stroked his cock.
“I cannae hold back, Robena,” he gasped.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. “I dinnae want ye to.”
When he plunged into her wet opening, they both sucked in a joyful gasp.
“Hold onto me, lass,” he commanded, and of course she was going to obey.
His motions were no longer gentle, and that was perfectly fine with her. His frantic need had re-kindled her own. Or mayhap her pleasure had never ceased.
The throbbing in her core grew once more, with each shuddering thrust, and she flattened her palms against his wide shoulders, urging him on.
Her pleasure was building, building, building….
And then he stiffened and groaned. She pulled him down, her lips seeking his. As he claimed her with a kiss, she felt a warm flood against her womb. Almost unconsciously, her feet wrapped around his calves, and she squeezed.
All it took was one more thrust from him—his way made slick by his tongue, her desire, and his seed—before she was soaring over the edge once more.
“Kester!” she gasped against his mouth, and he hummed in response.
Robena’s pleasure pulsed in ever-decreasing beats, each one softer and longer than the last, until she could suck in a breath without the worry of swallowing her tongue.
Finally, she collapsed back onto the blankets, taking him with her. His head pillowed between her breasts, she listened to the sounds of his breathing and smiled into the darkness.
After a long while, Kester stirred. “I suppose a tent isnae the worst place to spend a wedding night.”
“Aye,” she teased, her fingers stroking his hair. “Although I confess I’m looking forward to a fine bed in MacBain Castle.”
He lifted his head. “So nae more bathing in lochs together?”
“Och, husband!” she smacked him playfully. “I was going to suggest we do that this verra night.”