Authors: How to Be a Scottish Mistress
Adrienne Basso (11 page)
Avoiding his gaze, Fiona pushed back the lock of hair that had fallen over her face. “The bath is meant for you, my lord, not me.”
“Well, if it’s my bath, then ’tis mine to share, is it not? And I’ve decided to share. With ye.”
Chapter 8
Gavin liked how expansive Fiona’s eyes grew when he asked her to join him in the tub. She wasn’t shocked—well perhaps a wee bit. But she was also curious, intrigued by his suggestion, and that did all sorts of things to his already fired blood.
It was fun toying with her. He liked watching her face as she ministered to him, noting the wrinkle of concentration on her brow, the small lines tightening around her mouth as she tried to maintain a proper, dignified approach to her duty.
Tried, yet failed. Thank God.
He had enough duty and obligation surrounding him. He wanted, needed, something different from Fiona.
“Why willnae ye join me in the tub? Dinnae ye enjoy yer bed sport with a bit of boldness and adventure?” he asked.
She tossed him a doleful look. “I’m starting to think you are a very wicked man.”
“Aye, lass, ye dinnae know the half of it.”
Gavin stood. The water cascaded off his body in sheets, forming a large puddle around the tub. But this time Fiona did not scramble to mop it. In fact, this time Fiona did not move at all.
Her eyes widened, her lips parted, her cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink. The tips of her breasts were straining against the fabric of her gown, the nipples clearly outlined. His cock, already hard and straining, jumped. She must have seen, because something went still in her eyes and she became totally focused on him. The air grew hot, steamy, thick.
Temptation pulled at him. His body fairly twitched with need. She was his for the taking and he’d waited far too long already. Gavin caught her in his embrace and kissed her mouth, opening her lips to delve inside to taste. She moaned and tightened herself against him.
He began to slowly kiss his way down her golden flesh, paying close attention to her responses. He didn’t always have such patience at the start, especially when he was so aroused. But Fiona shivered and groaned each time he landed on a particularly sensitive spot, the sound encouraging him to continue.
He took his time kissing and caressing her, savoring and relishing each moment. It was as though he were driven by some unexplained need to know her intimately, not just her luscious body, but her soul.
With impatient hands, Gavin stripped off Fiona’s clothing until she was as naked as he. Her fathomless green eyes seared into his and an unaccustomed wave of tenderness washed over him. If he didn’t know better, he would swear she was a virgin on the eve of discovering the mystery of becoming a woman.
He smiled at her affectionately. She returned it with one of her own, though her lower lip trembled. Gavin reached for her breasts, marveling at how perfectly the plump softness fit his palms. He thumbed the dusky rose nipples, playing lazily with his fascinating prize. Fiona’s breath hitched and he could feel her body quiver.
As her gasps escalated, he nuzzled her throat and whispered, “Shall I have a wee taste?”
Gavin didn’t wait for her response. Bending his head, he caught the burgeoning nipple between his teeth, then rolled his tongue in a slow circle around the entire areola. Fiona’s breathing grew harder, more ragged, as Gavin continued his sensual assault, licking her breasts, tasting their sweetness, relishing their softness.
Her knees started to buckle.
Aye, she was a passionate lass.
Gavin chuckled softly, mightily pleased with himself, and her. He swept Fiona into his arms and carried her to the bed, pressing her back onto the clean linens. Almost as if dazed, she sprawled languidly on the large mattress, her beautiful body on wanton display.
Aye, she was a passionate lass.
Gavin chuckled softly, mightily pleased with himself, and her. He swept Fiona into his arms and carried her to the bed, pressing her back onto the clean linens. Almost as if dazed, she sprawled languidly on the large mattress, her beautiful body on wanton display.
For him. Only for him.
Gavin closed his eyes and inhaled. The scent of her arousal nearly drove him crazy. With gentle fingers he reached between her thighs and parted her folds, opening her feminine secrets to his heated gaze. She was soft and pink, like a lovely, delicate flower.
Unable to resist, he lowered his head and tasted her with his tongue, caressing her sweet essence. She reacted with a cry of sheer torturous delight. He laid his hands on her thighs to hold her still, then blew on the wet curls. She shivered and arched off the bed, her moan louder this time.
Triumphant, Gavin swirled the tip of his tongue through her folds, slow and thorough, paying special attention to the sweet pearl in the center. Fiona bucked and writhed, thrashing her head from side to side.
He continued pleasuring her with his lips and tongue, angling her body so he could see the rapture and wonder brighten her face. Fiona opened her mouth, then closed her eyes. She let out a surprised shriek and her body jerked and shuddered. Her climax nearly brought on his and he almost pulled away to prevent himself from spilling his seed too soon.
But he would not be so cruel as to deny either of them this bliss. Seeking time to regain control of himself, Gavin, pressed light, soothing kisses along her inner thigh, prolonging her pleasure. Finally mastering his raging passion, he sat back on his knees and took a deep, shuddering breath.
It gave Gavin no small measure of pride to see Fiona so sated and content, basking in the glow of sexual release. His eyes remained on her face as he grabbed her waist and pulled her toward him, drawing her legs up on either side of his hips, spreading them wide.
“And now, I claim ye,” he said hoarsely.
She whimpered in anticipation as he pushed the tip of his penis against her wetness, demanding entrance. Probing and insistent, he guided himself a little bit inside her moist heat, immediately feeling her tense.
“Open fer me, lass,” he coaxed, stroking her golden hair. “Let me inside and I promise I’ll bring ye to the heavens again.” He thrust his hips, but she tensed again.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered in misery. “I’m trying. ’Tis just that you are so very large and—”
He leaned over and plunged his tongue into her mouth. The moment it met hers, Fiona bumped her hips against his. Gavin could feel Fiona’s inner muscles flexing around his engorged shaft. It was blissful torture. And he wanted more.
He moved his hips again and she gradually unfolded, allowing him a bit deeper inside. His body wanted him to go faster, deeper, harder, but Gavin resisted the urge. Instead he rocked his hips back and forth slowly, moving with sure strokes inch by inch until she fully accepted him. Fully submitted to him.
It felt . . . indescribable. The warmth and wetness was familiar, but the closeness, the connection, aye, that was different. Gritting his teeth, Gavin held himself in check. It had been too long since he had enjoyed a woman’s softness and he wanted the moment to last.
“I dreamt of ye while I was gone,” he admitted.
Her brow furrowed. She reached up and tenderly glided her fingertips along his temple, tracing the scar he bore with a gentle stroke. “I’ve been counting the days that you’ve been gone, always hoping that today was when you would return. And finally you have come back.”
She had missed him? The revelation snapped the thin thread of Gavin’s control. Unceremoniously, he grabbed the soft globes of Fiona’s buttocks and lifted her closer to him. She trembled and shook, but he would not be denied.
His questing fingers found her nipple and he rubbed the tip of his finger over the peak until it hardened. With a strangled cry, her hips rose to meet his. She gripped his shoulder and thrust herself upward. He slid one hand between them and brushed the pad of his thumb over her pulsing flesh.
The moment she started to climax, Gavin knew he could hold back no longer. Mindlessly, he thrust and drove himself deeper, pumping furiously. His climax caught him hard and fast, racking his body with deep spasms, nearly blurring his vision when it came upon him.
Gavin could feel Fiona’s body tighten around him as he pumped his seed inside her womb. Shuddering, he collapsed on top of her, fearing he was crushing her but feeling too damn satisfied to move a muscle.
The scent of their passion mingled with the damp air. He inhaled the fragrance, pleased to feel a slight stirring of his cock. With just a wee bit of rest, he’d be primed for a second round. And maybe a third.
Feeling more than a tad smug at his virility, Gavin rolled to his side, taking Fiona with him. Playfully, he pressed his face into her golden hair and lazily stroked her back. She sighed and snuggled closer.
And in that moment, Gavin’s burdens eased; the worries about his bastard half brother, Gilroy, the uncertainty of Robert’s kingship over Scotland, and the fate that awaited them, all slipped away.
With a contented, satisfied sigh, Gavin allowed sleep to claim him.
Gavin’s lax body and gentle snores let Fiona know he was asleep. This meant it was the best time for her to quietly return to her chamber. She squinted in the darkness, trying to locate the door, deciding how she would navigate around the furniture without disturbing Gavin. Avoid the chair, watch out for the table, step around the tub. Yes, that should work well.
’Twas a solid, practical plan. Having a plan was always a comfort for her. A necessity, really. Yet Fiona never moved.
I’ll leave in a minute. Or maybe two.
I’ll leave in a minute. Or maybe two.
She snuggled closer to his broad strength, burrowing her head into his shoulder, not daring to think too hard on why she wanted to stay. Gavin’s warm breath whispered against the top of her head, the steady, even rhythm a strange comfort.
So this is what it means to make love.
Saints preserve her, he had acted as tender and considerate as a besotted bridegroom. Was that how all men treated their mistresses? If so, that would certainly explain why women took lovers.
Saints preserve her, he had acted as tender and considerate as a besotted bridegroom. Was that how all men treated their mistresses? If so, that would certainly explain why women took lovers.
Fiona shook her head, marveling at the experience. She had shared more with Gavin in a few hours than ten years of marriage with Henry. And it wasn’t only physical. They had laughed, he’d teased and flirted with her. He had made her feel like a woman. A
desirable
woman.
desirable
woman.
If only they could have a future together.
Fiona sat up immediately, as if struck by a bolt of lightning. No! She must never allow those thoughts to creep inside her head, to burrow in her heart. It would be her undoing, a heartache that would forever haunt her. Mind racing, she turned to leave the bed, but Gavin caught her at the waist, holding her tight.
“Where are ye going?”
“To my chamber.”
He made a noise deep in his throat that sounded like a growl. She started to protest, then realized she had no right to refuse him. Her emotions in turmoil, Fiona allowed herself to be pulled into his embrace. She could feel the rough hair on his legs brush against her thigh beneath the covers. It was a ridiculously erotic sensation and her body responded with trembling need.
Gavin’s kiss was hard and seeking, his hand traveling immediately between her thighs. Fiona gasped, intoxicated by the feeling, admitting the very last thing she wanted was to leave his bed.
It went much faster this time, but felt even better. Within moments she was on her back and spread out beneath him, like some pagan goddess, a virgin sacrifice to appease the gods. His hands and mouth were everywhere, stroking and suckling her bare flesh, exciting and torturing her at the same time.
“Now,” she panted. “I need you now.”
Gavin grinned wolfishly. “As milady commands.” Her blood flowed hot and raw when he thrust inside, claiming her as his own. Sobbing with restless passion, she held him close, moving her hands over his shoulders and the corded muscles of his biceps, bucking beneath him with blind compulsion. Arching and shuddering, she moaned loudly, feeling the whole length of him buried deeply inside her.
Close, she was so close.
Sensing her need, Gavin slipped his hand to where they were joined, his clever fingers knowing precisely where to stroke. Instantly, the sensations within her spiraled out of control. Higher and higher they climbed and Fiona stretched and strained to reach the pinnacle, to achieve the passionate bliss she now knew awaited her.
A keening wail burst from Fiona’s throat as the raw hunger inside her finally crested, shattering into a million pieces. She locked her legs around Gavin’s waist and let the pleasure engulf her, surround her, possess her. When it subsided, she lay gasping beneath him, still feeling the ripples of sensation deep within her.
“Open yer eyes, Fiona.”
The commanding voice reached through her hazy bliss and Fiona obeyed. His fiery gaze was straining with need and unfulfilled passion.
Just a few hours ago, the sight of his intense desire would have frightened her, for she had no experience with it and knew not how to appease him. Yet now she understood exactly what he needed, how to bring him the satisfaction he craved.
Wantonly, Fiona bent her knees, then glided her fingertips over his shoulders and down his spine, resting at the base. Digging her heels into the firm mattress, she surged upward, at the same time pressing against his lower back.
Gavin’s deep-throated groan of ecstasy let her know he appreciated the resulting deep, heavy penetration. He needed no encouragement to continue the swift, sure strokes. Fiona quickly adapted the same rhythm, sending him into an even more fevered pitch.
His body surged forcefully into hers, each thrust deeper, harder, longer, setting her very flesh on fire. She could feel the ripple and tightening of his muscles as the spasms of release overcame him, and then the warm rush of liquid as his pulsing seed filled her.
They lay locked together for a long while. Fiona barely noticed when he rose from the bed. With great effort, she turned her head and watched him dip a rag into the now-cold bathwater. He wiped himself, swirled the rag through the water a second time, wrung out the rag, then approached the bed.
She lay in stunned silence as he casually cleaned her upper thighs and between her legs, feeling totally embarrassed by such an intimate gesture. The carnal haze so deliciously surrounding her vanished, replaced once more by uncertainty. Was this typical? Is this how most men treated their bed partners?
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