A Scot in the Dark (Scandal & Scoundrel #2) - Sarah MacLean Page 0,98

and outrageous.

She blinked. “Aren’t you going to . . . ?”

“Taste you,” he said, his massive hands sliding up her legs, over the soft skin of the inside of her thighs, setting her heart to pounding as his fingers moved higher and higher, until they were a wicked promise at the junction of her thighs. He stared at her for a long moment, until she closed her eyes from the heat of his gaze.

Finally, he pressed a kiss against the soft skin of one thigh and said, “You are perfect here—not that I should be surprised. Slick and wet and desperate for me, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know,” she said, suddenly afraid of what he was about to do, of what he was about to make her feel.

He growled at that. “You are. You are the most perfect thing I’ve ever touched.” He pressed a kiss to the soft skin of her thigh. “You humble me with your body.”

Unable to stop herself, she lifted herself to him, aching for his touch. “It is yours,” she whispered. “All of me. I am yours.”

He growled at the words, turning to nip the inside of her knee before lifting her leg and settling it, shockingly, wonderfully, on his shoulder. “You have it wrong, love. It is not I who owns, but you.” He pressed a kiss to the curls that hid the heat of her. “Your lips taste like Scotland,” he whispered at the core of her. “But here, you taste like heaven.”

And then he was kissing her in that glorious, secret place, and she was gasping her shock and pleasure, and doing as she was told, lying back as he licked and sucked and reveled in her. She sighed his name, her hands moving to his head, fingers sliding into his hair. “Alec,” she whispered. “I am yours. Forever.”

The words seemed to unlock him, to make him wild and desperate and wicked and wonderful; a growl came deep, the vibration against her core making her just as wild. Just as desperate. Her fingers clenched in his dark curls, and she did not hesitate to hold him to her, to move against him.

His hands slid beneath her, lifting her, holding her to him like a banquet, and she cried out as he licked, finding all her secrets, giving her everything she’d ever desired. “Yours,” she whispered again and again, and finally, as he drove her higher and higher, he ripped the word from her on a wild, loud scream.

He lifted his head at the sound, leaving her there on the precipice of something glorious. He pressed a soft kiss to her thigh, licking in little circles until she looked to him, meeting his magnificent gaze as he stared up the length of her. “You stopped.”

He did not move for a long moment, and then he leaned forward and blew a soft stream of air through her dark curls. She writhed. Called to him.

“How shall I prove it?” he said, lazily, his gaze locked on the heart of her.

“Prove what?”

“ ’Tis I who is yours.”

She did not have time for it. “Alec. Please.”

He licked the center of her, long and lush and outrageously, and she cried out before he smiled, wide and beautiful, and said, “ ’Tis I who is yours, mo chridhe. What shall I do to prove it?” He laughed, low and deep and liquid against her. “There. Tell me the thought that turned your whole body pink in the candlelight.”

“You know,” she sighed, the words nearly a whine.

“I do,” he said, as though they had all the time in the world. “But I wish you to command me, love. I wish you to be my goddess. And I, your servant. I wish you to know your beauty. Your pride. Your perfection. I wish to honor it. With every part of me.”

His words set her aflame.

It did not matter that they were mad.

She looked to him, desperate for his mouth once more. “Then do so.”

He raised a brow in question. “Say it.” He licked her again, and she went tight as a bow. “Honor me, Alec.”

The words flooded her with pleasure. “Honor me, Alec.”

“Worship me, Alec.”

She closed her eyes. “Worship me, Alec.”

“Kiss me, Alec.”

“Kiss me, Alec.”

And he did, driving her wild, making love to her with slow, savoring strokes, his hands lifting her to him like a feast. She pressed her hips to him, continuing the litany, repeating it again and again, until she found the precipice once more, and this time he