My Prize (11 page)

"Now. You said something about touching?" That huskiness was back in Rory's voice, and he eased himself down on his back, looking completely comfortable and watching Boralle's face as he waited for her to decide on her next move.

A shiver of excitement trickled down her spine, and she raised herself up on one elbow, looking at the delectable expanse of masculinity lying next to her.

All hers.

It was a heady feeling, and she felt an appreciative grin curl her lips as she wriggled closer to him and put her hand on his chest.

She could have sworn she felt an answering ripple of pleasure cross his flesh.

He had a soft furring of red-gold hair dusting his fine muscles, and she ran her fingers through it, stopping when she found a tightly furled nipple that just begged to be played with.

He sucked in air as she tweaked the copper nubbin, and then sighed as she obeyed some instinct buried deep in her DNA and leaned over to tease it with her tongue.

"Oh Rory, this is fun," she muttered. She shifted to suck on his other nipple, incidentally brushing her own against him at the same time. "You taste so...so..." The words deserted her.

How could she describe something she'd never tasted before? She had no frame of reference, but she knew one thing for certain. He didn't taste anything like chicken.

Getting bolder, she traced the line of his rippling muscles with her tongue, ending up at his navel. Her hands stroked and smoothed wherever they fell, brushing once against his cock and bringing a shudder to the body so generously being offered for her pleasure.

She smiled. It seemed that she had it in her power to reduce the mighty warrior to trembling. Well, well. Wasn't that interesting?

Rory's navel yielded its secrets to Boralle's probing tongue as she swirled and dipped and poked, and made him chuckle with her light, tickling forays into his indented belly.

Then she shifted, and his skin tightened beneath her hands.

She moved further down, placing one hand on a brawny thigh and feeling the muscles flex under her palm. His forest of red-gold curls tickled her nose, and she blew gently through them, bringing a moan to Rory's lips.

"Is that a bad thing I'm doing?" she asked.

"Nay, lass. It's a very good thing you're doing," he whispered.

Lifting her head she took a good long look at his good long cock. It was truly a thing of beauty. It stood tall, proudly ready to take on whatever challenge the Laird found for it.

The challenge of bringing her into a new world of knowledge and desire.

Boralle felt herself loosen inside at the thought of him—of this—pounding into her body. She ran her fingers up its length to the flange that circled the head. Gently she traced the ridge with her tongue.

The groan from Rory's throat surprised both of them.

"That hurts?"

"Oh God, nay, lass. It's so good I'm like to die from it," Rory growled back.

Boralle grinned. That good, huh? She did it again, this time holding him in one hand and sliding her other onto the flat plane of his belly.

His unique scent filled her nostrils and she sucked it in, inhaling him, learning him, feeling his musky fragrance slip through her lungs into her bloodstream and imprint itself somewhere near her medulla oblongata. From there it moved quickly and quietly into her hypothalamus.

She was branded with it. She'd never forget it, and she would know him even if every light in the galaxy went out at the same time.

She'd know that distinct scent that said "mate."

It was a moment of sheer wonder for Boralle, and the fact that she was holding an enormously erect cock at the same time unleashed a torrent of strange emotions within her.

She sank her mouth down over him, as far as she could, licking, sucking, pulling against his silky skin with her teeth. If she could have devoured him, she would have, so hungry was she for this man.

Rory's moan of pleasure startled her with its strength. God, he must
really
like this. Which was nice, because she liked it too. She flicked her tongue around the underside of the head and drew back, watching his reaction. He moved beneath her hands, his body taut.

A small bubble of bluish-tinged liquid oozed from the tiny eye. She delicately touched her tongue to it and let the unique flavor-scent roll over her taste buds.

Mmm...different. Sweet but tangy, salty and with a dash of some exotic flowery kind of overtones.

She shifted, anxious to get into the best position possible for what she was coming to regard as her safari over Rory's body. Fidgeting, she settled herself between his legs, pushing his massive thighs apart, and grunting a little at the effort required. She glanced up and caught a definite smirk on his face. She stuck her tongue out at him in a totally unguarded moment of sheer childish mischief.

"Aye lass. You're getting the idea," he chuckled. "Keep that tongue busy and you'll hear no complaints from me."

She snorted and sat down on her heels between his legs. Oh this was perfect. Now she could play with the rest of his toys. And ooooh...what did we have here?

*~*~*~*

Rory gritted his teeth as Boralle carefully discovered his balls. Her touch was tentative, interested and about to drive him over the edge into screaming insanity.

When she stroked them he gasped. When she lifted them away from his body and rolled them hesitantly in her palms, learning his weight and feel, he nearly lost all semblance of control.

When she bent her head to run her tongue and lips around them, he knew he was about to die because he swore that he could hear angels singing.

It was the most amazingly wonderful moment he could ever recall, and although other women had pleasured him in a similar fashion, none had come close to making him feel this way. No one had touched him with the mixture of reverence and curiosity that Boralle was using.

No one had dropped light kisses on his cock and his balls out of sheer desire to explore him. The mixture of complete innocence and unconscious sensuality was doing him in.

He had to make her stop. In a matter of light years or so.

"Rory, are all men made like this?" She breathed the question over his cock, which she'd just pulled from her mouth. Her moisture still coated it and her breath felt cool against the wet shaft.

He shivered. "What? I...well, I canna say...I dinna think...Oh God, lass." He groaned as Boralle gave up waiting for him to form a coherent sentence and lowered her hot mouth over him once again.

It was almost too much.

He pulled away from her soft lips with a sigh. "No more, sweetheart. 'Tis my turn now, or we'll get too far ahead of ourselves."

Moving with intent, he had her flipped and on her back before she could do more than squeak.

"But Rory, I hadn't finished—"

"No, mebbe not. But I nearly did." Rory closed his eyes for a second, trying for control. "Now, lass. It's my turn to explore..."

She lay next to him, quiet, wondering, waiting for his touch. Her gaze was full of curiosity and something else, something warm and intense that found its way down secret pathways to his heart. The blue skies were no brighter than the blue of her eyes as she watched him, ready for whatever he was going to do, and welcoming it, trusting him to touch her and bring her pleasure.

It was the knowledge that she trusted him, that made him offer up a silent prayer. He prayed that he could do this one thing better than he'd ever done it before. That he would find inspiration, knowledge and patience.

That he would make her cry out his name in the midst of feelings the likes of which she'd never imagined existed.

He promised himself that he'd make this a unique experience for both of them.

With that prayer in his mind and his vow deep in his heart, Rory leaned over his woman and touched his lips to hers.

The sun dazzled Boralle and so did Rory. His eyes had never seemed so green and alive as they did when he lowered his head to taste her.

She arched to meet him, loving the way his lips smoothed across hers before urging her mouth open and allowing his tongue to penetrate. She knew his taste now and welcomed it. She knew the heat she'd feel as he kissed her, and welcomed that too.

What she didn't expect was the searing flame that erupted on her skin as he pressed his naked body against hers. She tried to gasp as his chest brushed her breasts, but his mouth continued to devour her.

Her head swam as a hand swept over her skin and found her nipple, gently rubbing it and then withdrawing only to return and rub again.

Her body writhed as she felt his solid thighs move against hers, urging her legs apart and slipping between them to press against her swelling flesh, and spreading her juices around with a firmly muscled thrust.

His hand slipped behind her and down, grasping her buttocks and pulling her hard against him.

His cock pressed solidly onto the softness of her belly, hot and hard, and she moaned, wanting him more than she could have imagined.

His hands squeezed, stroked, and squeezed again, making her cheeks tingle with pleasure and yearn for more. He slipped his fingers down her cleft, teasing again with little flutters and reaching a place where the nerve endings were plentiful and surprisingly sensitive.

She cried out as his fingers caressed her there, spreading her thighs even more. His lips wrenched away from hers and allowed her to breathe, but only for a moment, as he timed his unexpected touches with the lowering of his mouth to her breast.

Boralle's mind blanked. Rory's tongue was doing incredibly amazing things to her nipple, which had suddenly decided to register every little movement as an earthquake-like tremor between her legs. His fingers never let up their teasing of her tight little ring of muscles and she found herself moaning with need under the double onslaught.

She could feel her honey running over his thigh now, and shamelessly she rubbed her clit against his skin. Nothing mattered but getting her satisfaction. She was one helpless quivering pile of need.

But there was more.

He released her breast and blew on it, making her gasp as his warm breath cooled the moisture. His fingers left the crack of her buttocks and traced downwards, sliding through her liquid and playing with the swollen tissues he encountered on his way.

Before she realized it, she was flat on her back again, and his hair was brushing her stomach. His tongue was also brushing her stomach and she wondered if it was possible to die from too much pleasure.

If it was, she figured she was about due for a casket.

A portion of her mind stepped aside and reminded her of the soft-skinned inhabitants of Rutha Nine. It was said that their mating frenzy was the most incredible ever recorded in the galaxy. Unfortunately, one out of four females did not survive, and the males were usually seriously injured. The fact that the race continued to reproduce had always puzzled Boralle.

Now she understood.

If the Ruthans felt anything like she felt at this moment, no wonder they were prepared to put their lives on the line.

Rory's head had moved further down, and he was now nearing her command and control center.

She felt the light touch of his mouth on her naked mound and sobbed a choked cry as his tongue tentatively licked her labia.

Oh Gods. This was beyond anything she could ever have imagined.

Warm and wet, his tongue seemed like a life form all its own. It managed to stroke and caress and tease all at the same time. It plunged into her deepest caverns and hunted out her most sensitive places. It found her clit, hiding beneath its protective hood, and played with it, making it hard and tingling and encouraging it to stand proud and ready for the ultimate experience.

He traced the grooves in her skin where her legs met her body, and licked right back up to tease her swollen flesh yet again.

Then, without preamble, Rory plunged his face into her body, thrusting his tongue deep inside her.

She screamed with the joy of it.

He pulled back, letting his head rest on her thighs as he stroked her, letting her clit relax a little.

"Rory...I want...I need..." She shifted her hips helplessly.

"I know, lass. But not yet. 'Tis all the better for the wanting, I reckon," he growled, his cock hard as marble against her leg.

"I can't stand it," she moaned.

"Yes you can, Boralle. Yes you can."

He sincerely hoped he'd judged her correctly on this one. He'd taken her as far as he dared, now she had to drop back a wee bit before her next climb.

He'd never have tried this on a virgin, but her sexual experience, although limited to the mechanical, gave her enough control to hold on. He hoped.

With a wicked smile, he reached over her body and snapped off a small branch of heather from a patch growing near their sheltered spot. The leaves were budding but had yet to soften into their full growth, making the short branches rough and a little spiky.

He saw her eyes open wide as he brushed the plant across her belly.

"Wha...wha...?" she mumbled.

"'Tis the kiss of the heather, lass. A Scotsman will do this to his woman to keep her awake, and ready for him."

He brushed her mound with the prickly leaves and she shivered.

"Rory, if I was any more awake and ready for you, I'd be within nanoseconds of detonation," she hissed back.

"That's good. That's where I want you," he answered. He stroked her breasts with the heather.

She hissed at the strange sensation, and Rory increased the pressure a little, trying to achieve that delicate balance between pleasure and pain. Her hips squirmed and she arched her back, thrusting herself against the heather and silently telling him of her need.

"Time for the kiss of the Laird, I think."

Boralle's eyebrow rose, and she dashed sweat away from her face with her arm, heaving a deep breath.

Her eyes widened as his hand reached for his sword.

"Dear God, what are you...Rory, what..." With a look of astonishment she raised herself up on one elbow.