My Lady Gambled (17 page)

With her hands free after Brynmore plastered her body against his, Kit lifted her hands strongly and grasped the sides of Brynmore’s beard. She tugged downward, making him hiss, as she practically climbed up his body with her lips zeroing in toward his mouth.

She growled with as much feminine ardor as she could manage. “Then we will fuck like bunnies!”

Brynmore jerked his head, even with her fingers tugging his beard, so that her lips missed their target and she only caught the side of his lips with her mouth. “Fucking perverts dinna kiss,” Brynmore reprimanded her sharply.

Kit instantly retaliated by biting the side of Brynmore’s bottom lip. “Bloody hell!” Brynmore cursed, with a sharp bellow. “But that’s what we need, lass, blood.”

Brynmore smeared his bottom lip and the pinprick of blood, where her teeth had grazed, over the side of her top lip. Kit could feel it, taste the tinniness, smell the light copper-sweet smell as she jerked her lips away and her head back in confusion. She hung onto Brynmore as if he were a tree she had climbed, halting halfway to the top, with his hand bracing her buttocks.

“Blood?” she asked in confused disbelief with her breath panting.

“Aye.” Brynmore’s warm breath, washed her face, smelling of whisky and mint. “Blood will be our fetish, my sanguinary pet. However, we will discuss that later as the second part to our plan.”

Pet? Just the word from Brynmore’s lips, his deep tenor voice and the connection made from the word to her, was like a heated caress straight into Kit’s sex. She found herself blurting, “What is the first part?”

“Fucking,” Brynmore said. Then, he turned and began carrying her to the bed, just as she was, hanging to his strong hardened body. “But with wildness, like a fire is lit beneath us.”

Kit felt the back of her knees hit the bed as Brynmore lifted both his hands to clasp her wrists and tug her handholds free. Then he pushed, sending her flying, until her spine hit the bed. Kit gasped, wondering if the wildness Brynmore spoke of was personal desire he was trying to hide beneath the guise of well-thought plans. Yet it did not matter, she needed to prove that she could rise to any occasion. She needed to prove that she could simply fuck and not fail emotionally, like a soft woman looking for romance might.

Kit rolled to her side, then she came up on her knees facing Brynmore. The nightgown she wore had fallen off both shoulders, while the collar barely hung on the peaks of her nipples. She fought the urge to shield herself. “With your boots on?” she asked, a bit scornfully.  

“Aye,” Brynmore retorted, sneering with a challenge.

Kit knew pain flashed in her irises for brief seconds before she could catch it, then she, horribly, found herself asking, “Why are you doing this?” She tried to make her exclamation sound strong. A type of return challenge, only she knew Brynmore clearly understood her intention. He saw she was asking not why were they going to have sex, but why was he so intent on making it so distant and unfeeling, as if he were a crass boor that thought no more than to fuck her as if she were a receptacle of use and nothing more.

Brynmore’s returning gaze was fierce, but half of it was restrained sexual intensity. Brynmore knew he could lie. He knew that he should lie. He thought Drummond would, in this situation, and knew Harrison would, too, to get the job done. Then Brynmore suddenly wondered if that were the truth. When he thought about the women that they had found and loved now. That was the simple truth Saxon revealed beneath other words he had used when he offered his advice. It all melted into one thing. Honesty. That was what kept Saxon and Joelle together through their ordeal and not ripped apart. It was that leap of faith. A man could be sly with his feeling or he could choose to enact a part with clever intentions that it was the best formula for a mission. However, dishonesty between partners seemed more likely to tear them apart, than build a strong front. Even though, as a man, his first gut instinct might be to control a woman with logic, thinking that he could better protect her.

In the end, Brynmore did not know what the right answer was. With all his ruminating, he still found himself unable to continue fabricating an imaginary personality to Kit. Game up! Not before this Kit, so lush and alluring and with the sparks of sexual tension between them. He saw that when she tried to conjure a brave facade of worldly experience for him, it had cracked showing her vulnerability.

Aye, perhaps that was the best way. They were both vulnerable in this. They could only imagine what crass and personally humiliating things they might have to do. They would only have each other to strengthen and to hold each other together at those times. He pretended it would be worse for a woman, however he was not so personally bereft of morals and tastes that he could not be intimately humiliated with self disgust. His body felt like tensile iron as he heaved a breath trying to loosen some of the tension, while his gaze encompassed Kit’s attractive and flushed face, her breasts, which were all but completely bare.

“I was going to try to hide,” Brynmore began, his voice like gravel. “That I want you.”

Brynmore watched Kit’s eyes widen and her pouted lips part. He knew that he had surprised her with his complete honesty. Even though she had practically begged him for it. He also knew that they had known each other such a short time, they were truly strangers. So she must wonder how he could want her. Even as he rationalized that she would come to the conclusion that he was just a male and the popular belief was that men were not discerning.

That could not be further from the truth where he was concerned, but he was not going to reveal every nook and cranny of his soul. Kit’s hand raised toward his chest, hesitantly, then her fingers curled inward at the last moment so that her knuckles rested on his left breast plate. However, it was the emotion in her eyes that spoke volumes, with liquid, dark, entrapping qualities.

“Lass, we are together in this. Partners,” Brynmore murmured, raising his hand to clasp over Kit’s fist.

Kit nodded her head in agreement and Brynmore’s gaze caught the slight droop of material the motion caused, revealing one nipple tip, rucked tight with ruddy-pink emotion. “No kissing then. You think that is the best way to do this?” Kit asked.

“Hell,” Brynmore expelled, overturned at the reminder of his attempts at masking his feelings with cruelness, while he tugged and then drew Kit’s soft feminine body into his arms. His lips descended to her mouth.

Kit stopped him for a brief second, gasping, “I think I want you too.” Then their lips touched.

Brynmore thought that he might have meant to be gentle, more caressing and embracing. However, the moment he felt the heated gossamer of Kit’s lips molding and moving beneath his mouth, it was as though a volatile eruption burst in his senses. He swore that a flash of light actually burst in his brain, as he growled a groan, lashing his mouth ardently against Kit’s instant and returning fervor. The near nudeness of her body slid against his chest as one of his hands sunk into her hair, while the other cupped her buttocks. Kit’s arms braced around his shoulders with her fingers burrowing into his hair as their lips turned against each other, plucking and nipping, sliding and sculpting, until the tip of Kit’s tongue offered itself for his taking. The openly torrid equality of that gesture immediately spurred his excitement about what the gesture promised. Kit was not coy or reluctant, but matched him desire for desire, with her murmurs increasing as their tongues played carnal jigs.

Kit rolled her firm breasts over his hairy chest with her nipple point’s erect and prodding, while his fingers spread out over her ass, holding her to the hip motions he used, grinding his thick woody prick over her muff. One of his fingers holding her supple ass fell into the crease following the depression, until his fingertip found, by surprise the lowest portion of her cleft. The surprise was the wetness. It soaked his fingertip and the gauzy material of her nightgown around it, while she crooned aroused sounds over his tongue, basting it with her tongue.

Suddenly, she slipped her tongue from his mouth, with their noses touching lightly and her irises like smoky dark blue glass as she looked up at him. Her breath panted heat against his damp lips. “What do we do?” she asked.  

Brynmore saw that she was willing and excited to do what before had been a challenge. His chest expanded against her nipple tips, with the grateful knowledge that he had averted disaster and chosen the right course. They were equally matched and attracted and they both wanted to build on that.

“Let’s try you taking control for while, sugar pet. I’d guess that would be a faddy common theme. Lasses servicing men.”

Kit barely heard anything past the endearment “sugar pet” Brynmore used and the throng of desire pumping through her body. She did manage to hear the rest, even though in just this first stage of sexual play, her senses were soaring higher that they’d ever been engaged before.

She made a lilting exclamation of rebuttal as she grasped Brynmore’s brawny shoulders, tugging and turning him, where she shoved, pushing him onto his back. “You think so, do you?” she asked, with her voice dripping with teasing disbelief.

She could tell by the crinkling in the corner of Brynmore’s mint-colored irises that he was a bit surprised at her strength. He had not stopped her moving him, but he had not helped either. “Och, I do, lass, I do. Tis certain to be all about a man’s pleasure.”

Kit’s mouth dove for Brynmore’s nipple as she leaned over him from his side. She nipped the hard peak once, holding him down by her palms spread out over his rigid belly, when he jerked. “But, we should practice both,” she emphasized with a quip, as she rose halfway over him.

Kit felt Brynmore’s hand sneaking under the fluffy folds of her chiffon nightgown, until the heat of his palm caressed her bare hip. Immediately, she felt like undulating her bottom and she was amazed at the sensuality that she possessed.

“Aye, lass, I’m all for practicing.” Brynmore chuckled, with a suggestive and blatant male glitter in his eyes.

Kit immediately turned that twinkle into crimping eyelids as she moved her hand to lightly scrape her fingernails over the hardy length of Brynmore’s male shaft, beneath the fabric of his britches. Kit liked the way Brynmore’s hairy belly muscles rippled as his irises darkened. She had to admit that she was thrilled.

This was no chore, she thought. Brynmore’s difficult admission that he wanted her, eased many degrees of her tensions. He could have handled this so many different ways. That he chose honesty demanded her own honesty in return. She could see now by her feelings it would strengthen them. Her honesty was, that she wanted him also. She tried not to inspect it too closely given her earlier commitment to work out later all the consequences and feeling about this mission. Somehow her desires so quickly aroused by Brynmore, having known him for such a short time, seemed more like fate. Or perhaps, Kit thought, it was simply pure physical attraction, because she was that. There was just something about Brynmore that made her whole inner self purr. Or yowl!

Yowl, she giggled inwardly, wanting to pounce on him, like a superb male treat. To smell and to lick, to taste and to touch. Lord, she had never felt quite so freely impassioned before and now she even had permission. No, it was like an order, made between them. She was in charge for the moment!

His boots first, then. That she was adamant about. So instead of continuing the caressing journey of her fingertips, along the arresting firmness and length of his male organ, she scooted down the bed, climbing off, to grasp one of his booted feet. Brynmore snorted a laugh at her, raising his head to give her a heated wink as she raised his heavy boot straight and began tugging. The man was a Scottish rogue devil, with his teasing that left her tingling from her nipples to her toes.

“Sugar pet, ye’ll never get them off that way.” Kit arched a fine eyebrow at him, hunched over his boot tugging with the thick leather not moving an inch. Brynmore’s gaze seemed all for her bare bobbing breasts. Another sizzle twirled through her at the obvious appreciation she saw in his gaze. “Lass, ye’ll have to turn around, then straddle it and tug.” Brynmore smirked suggestively at her.

Kit could hardly believe that she was practically naked, tugging on a man’s boot, while he ogled her with lust in his gaze. And, she liked it! Still, some feminine devil inside her wanted to wrest part of the upper hand back and she was nearly naked in any case. So, Kit let go of Brynmore’s boot and stood, letting her nightgown fall off her arms, sliding down her body, until it pooled at her bare feet. Abruptly, it struck her just exactly what she had done and the urge to cover her nakedness shouted through her.

“Fash, lass, I’ve never seen a thing more beautiful.”

Brynmore’s husky voice, embedded with bass roughness, collided with Kit’s nearly desperate urge to cover herself and it allowed her to keep her hands at her side though her body quivered. Beautiful? Nick had always derided her charms in subtle and not so subtle remarks that pinpricked her confidence. Well! If, Laird Brynmore Duneagan thought she was beautiful, then she was! Confidence filled her breast and she flipped her short hair back with a slight saucy head toss.

“Ye’ll be the death of me, woman,” Brynmore chuckled. Kit tried one of Brynmore’s smirks back on him and then she added a wink too. Brynmore grabbed his belly as if she had speared him, while he groaned dramatically. “Och, lass, just take me brawny prick once before I die.”

That made Kit laugh once outright and she suddenly realized the wonder of humor and sexual attraction combined. Kit tilted her head and rolled her bare hips at Brynmore. Then, she turned and straddled his booted foot lifting it up between her thighs. The picture that she must present to Brynmore and the position that she was bent into, pelted surprising aroused shivers over her nude buttocks. Then Brynmore lifted his booted foot, pressing higher between her thighs, into her slit. A moan escaped before Kit could catch it, at the same instant a centralized throb pierced her sex. The urge to rub her heated slit on Brynmore’s boot top quivered over her inner thighs.