by Aubrey Wynne
Fenella’s breath hitched as he slid the gown over her arms, the satin fabric pooling on the floor between them. His fingers tugged at the ties of her shift, and with one long stroke of his palms, it joined the gown. She chewed her plump bottom lip as his eyes lingered on her mouth, her slender neck, the creamy globes.
“Fenella,” he growled.
He kissed her, slow and unhurried. “Ye’re perfection.” His fingers traced her nipples, his tongue circling them until they formed a perfect bud. Her breathing increased; her lips parted. He took one breast into his mouth, then the other, and sucked on the swollen peaks, his palms kneading the soft flesh. Her head fell back, and he returned his attention to her neck, then brushed her lips with his.
“I’ve done this in my dreams a hundred times,” he said, his voice rough. “And never were ye as beautiful.”
Lachlan picked her up again to lay her gently on the bed, his hands trailing up her long limbs to remove the last of her silky clothing, brushing her inner thighs, stroking the golden mound of hair. He smiled at her soft mewling and straightened to take off his coat and waistcoat, roll down his stockings, untie the brogues. With a grin, he kicked them off.
Fenella sat up and reached for his belt, unfastening it. She hesitated for a moment, then yanked open the wool kilt. When it dropped, his manhood stood erect, and he chuckled at her gasp. He pulled off his shirt and stood for a moment, letting her appreciate this first glimpse of him.
It was his turn to gasp when her fingers stroked his hard length.
“Lachlan,” she whispered, her voice husky. She leaned back on the bed and held out her arms, her eyes dark as the turbulent waters of the Scottish coast.
He settled next to her, kissing her, exploring her body, her curves, while she did the same to him. Fenella raked his chest with her fingertips, and his muscles flexed in her teasing wake, the throbbing below creating a sweet ache. She was wet, ready for him, as his fingers slid between her folds, massaging her nub until it hardened, and her breath came in short pants.
When she reached between them and wrapped her hand around his member, he threw his head back and groaned with the pleasure of it. He was stiff with need, and she parted her legs. He dipped two fingers into her slickness, sliding in, pulling back, slowly increasing the speed until she begged, her hips bucking up to meet the movement. “Lachlan,” she groaned. “Take me, please.”
He moved over her, bending to take one breast then the other into his mouth, his staff sliding back and forth between her folds. She parted her legs as he rubbed against her womanhood, her body trembling. Lachlan slid inside her a little at a time, letting her muscles relax and accommodate him. Her back arched, and he held her face with one hand, his eyes pinning her. He moved farther inside her until he found the thin membrane he must break.
“This will hurt a wee bit, love. But it willna last, I promise.”
She nodded, eyes wide. He pulled back and thrust into her, covering her mouth and stifling her whimper.
*
Fenella gasped, sucking in air as Lachlan coaxed a fire inside her core. She shivered with each kiss, each lick, each stroke of his finger, and only Lachlan and his touch existed. The pain was brief, and as he moved slowly inside her, the pleasure increased with each stroke. Never had her body endured such sweet agony. The pressure built, and he plunged in and out, a sweet friction that made her cry out.
Her palms ran over his hard chest, the muscles of his arms flexing as he held himself over her. The tension spiraled into a tight coil ready to spring. Heat exploded with each stroke inside her, and spasms rocked her body. Fenella gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his back as she moaned and gasped. Waves of pleasure rolled through her, making her limbs heavy and her sex convulse around him.
Lachlan drove into her and threw back his head, shuddering as he spilled his warm seed and collapsed on top of her. Fenella gulped in air, unable to move as his heart beat against her chest. They lay together, slick with sweat, and she reveled in his weight pressing down on her, the closeness of this man she thought she’d lost.
Lachlan rolled off her and gathered her in his arms, kissing her mussed hair.
“Are ye all right, love?”
She nodded. How could she explain the emotions reeling within, the sensations still vibrating through her body? The spasms that still coursed through her? Her cheek lay against his warm, bare chest; her fingertips swirled over his dark chest hair. They lay together, limbs entwined, the fire cast a glow over their skin as it quietly crackled and popped. Outside, snow gently fell on the city, fat flakes clinging to the windowpanes to enclose the lovers in a white cocoon. They dozed, drowsy from their lovemaking, and he woke her with his lips.
Fenella sighed, leaned on one elbow, and nipped his earlobe. “Thank you.”
“For what, my sweet?”
“For taking me in your arms that first day and kissing me.” Her fingertips crawled down his tight stomach muscles. “It was my first lesson in passion.”
“With many more to come.”
“I’m a quick study. Let’s see if I remember correctly.” She dared a peek from beneath her lashes as her fingers continued their descent. “Desire is like building a fire. It needs to be set carefully”—she circled the head of his growing member with one tentative finger—“and stoked from just a spark.”
His hips jerked up, and she wrapped her hand around his hardness, his excitement making her bold as he groaned. “Then you tend the tiny flames.” She feathered kisses down his stomach and touched her lips to the tip of his growing desire, and blew softly. “And stoke the growing fire.”
His fingers tangled in her hair, his breath shallow. “I’ve married a voracious minx.”
Fenella stopped, a smile curving her lips. “I thought I was your golden angel?” she asked, batting her lashes.
“Ye’re sweet face is deceiving, though I admit this is heavenly.” He pulled her up and settled her length-wise on top of him. He pressed his lips to hers, cupping her face in his hands. “There’ll be no more deception between us except in our bedroom.”
Fenella grinned and wriggled to rub her slickness over him, feeling him stiffen with need. “Deception and desire. What a delicious combination.” But when his hands gripped her hips and moved her against him in a languid rhythm, she was lost in his love once again.
About the Author
Bestselling and award-winning author Aubrey Wynne is an elementary teacher by trade, champion of children and animals by conscience, and author by night. She resides in the Midwest with her husband, dogs, horses, mule, and barn cats. Obsessions include wine, history, travel, trail riding, and all things Christmas. Her books have received the Golden Quill, Aspen Gold, Heart of Excellence, and the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence.
Aubrey’s first love is medieval romance but after dipping her toe in the Regency period in 2018 with the Wicked Earls’ Club, she was smitten. This inspired her spin-off series Once Upon a Widow. In 2020, she will launch the Scottish Regency series A MacNaughton Castle Romance with Dragonblade Novels.
Find Aubrey
Website: aubreywynne.com
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