Bold (The Handfasting) - By Becca St. John Page 0,34
need to catch-up your learning to your knowing.”
“Old knowledge?” She frowned, the haze lifting from her eyes before Talorc wanted it to.
“Maggie,” he distracted her with a caress to her ear. She sucked in a breath as the soft roundness of her breast lifted.
“Don’t.” She ordered, but there was no weight to her words.
“Because you don’t like it, or because you want more?” She turned away, and he knew it was better that than to lie. “You love my touch Maggie. That’s what has changed you.”
“But I hate you.”
“No you don’t Maggie. You wouldn’t crave this if you truly hated me.”
Finally, their lips met, though it was not much of a kiss, more a gentle brushing of lips. A tease, soft enough to ease her fears. She allowed it, allowed the gentle pressure that grew from that first touch, accepted the gentle brush of his tongue along the seam of her mouth.
As if she knew what he wanted, her lips parted, provoking him to take more. He eased his tongue between her lips, which, in turn, created more hunger. She returned his desire, participated in the tasting. It was the hunger of a powerful man, met by his equal. No matter the turmoil it caused, she was honest in her response. The thrill coursed through his veins. He devoured her, she demanded of him and fire raged.
He wanted her here, now, in this field, below where his men on foot marched, near enough to the keep that any could come upon them. Rather than tame, the thought incited. To show-off her abundant softness, the wild passion focused on him, had him rolling her to the ground, pinning her beneath him, her hands held tight above their heads.
"You are mine!" he pressed against her, widened his leg to urge hers apart until she cradled him.
"Oh aye," she allowed, "For a year and a day." She pulled his head to hers.
He allowed it, long enough to know she was saturated with wanting. He risked lifting up to look down on her, at the lush rise of her breast, at lips swollen from his kisses, cheeks flushed from desire. "You don't shy from this, yet still expect to leave me?"
"Imprisoned by handfast, I will reap whatever rewards I can." Hands bound by his, she arched her back.
He didn't understand her willingness. The hunger, aye, for it was that strong between them. But that she would risk, even incite, mating, he could not comprehend. Not when she wanted her freedom so fiercely. But the Bold was not named so for missed opportunities.
One hand still holding hers, he used the other to tease with a gentle stroking, along the side of her body, barely brushing the side swell of her breast.
"You are so bloody luscious," he gave in, filled his hand with her, molded, squeezed as he lowered his head to suckle. He couldn't resist any more, freed her hands to fill both his with her softness. "You make me hurt, ache with wanting you. Since the first moment I saw you, my blood has risen so high I fear I’ll burst. Ease me, Maggie girl, ease my pain."
She made it more insistent, urging the heat in him to rise even higher. She pulled his head to hers, kissing him with a full mouth. Her hips rose to his, circled impatiently as he thrust against her.
Too much cloth between them, Talorc thought of his knife, to slice it away, to give him access to her breasts as he wadded her skirt in his hand, lifting it higher, higher. He wanted to see her legs, her hips, raised himself to do so but stopped.
"I'll not have you caught like this," he thought out loud. "We've barely made our pledge, left your home and already I'm ravishing you. Your clansmen will certainly see the change in you then."
Her eyes met his, so fierce, so wanton he was surprised by her words. “This is not how they see me as different, Laird MacKay.”
She was battling him with words when he was still battling his body. Trying to calm it.
She continued. “What they think is that I am more than I am.”
“Aren’t you proving that as we speak?” He asked, fighting for breath, fighting to tame the wildness in his veins. It didn’t help that she arched her back, squiggled her hips trying to pull from beneath him. He wasn’t ready to let her go. "They know you, Maggie. They’ve always known you, they just didn’t recognize you as