Hamel Dun Creag, Loch Awe, Scotland 1557
Roarke entered his bedroom with Deanna in tow, their steps muffled by the fresh thresh on the floor. The fire in the hearth, diagonally across from the bed, gave the room a warm glow. The spark in the air, sensual.
Roarke stopped by the side of the canopied bed. “Are ye sure?” He flung his cloak on the wooden chest which sat at the foot of the bed.
He turned to Deanna, his heart swelled with love; it hurt.
“Seeing my beloved aunt is in her cups in the great hall while my Da is being regaled with feats of valour by The Hamilton?” Walking around nonchalantly, her eyes widened a fraction at the sight of Roarke’s bed. She took a deep breath, belying her nervousness and excitement, stopping to look at Roarke before she smiled. Deanna felt weak in the knees. The lone wooden armchair in the room was a temptation, but she forced herself to stand. She placed her hand on the chest of drawers, steadying herself. “Aye.”
Roarke stared at her, cherishing each feature. Her copper hair tumbled in curls and waves around her shoulders and down to her waist. Her eyes, pools of cornflower blue, were fringed with long lashes which swept over the tops of her cheekbones. A dusting of freckles decorated the bridge of her nose. Roarke's cock twitched in growing attention when Deanna’s lips curved in a beguiling smile.
“Do ye want me?” Roarke asked. He needed to hear the words from her lips. He dared not put any more meaning to Deanna's proposal until she made her desire clear.
“Aye,” she said softly, taking a step closer. “I love you, Roarke. I want to be your mate.”
Roarke enclosed Deanna in a crushing embrace. His mouth captured her lips, his tongue tracing the seam of her mouth. He groaned when Deanna shuddered, opening for him. She placed her arms around his neck and pressed her breasts against Roarke's plaid clad body. With a growl, he swept her up and placed her on the bed.
Laying her down, he straightened up. His breathing was harsh and erratic, his pulse thundering in his ears as the woman he loved watched him undress.
He unlaced his cuarans and his hose before tossing his tartan over his shoulder to unbuckle his leather belt. Deanna purred when he removed his shirt. He looked down, chuckling as he watched her sit up, her eyes drawn to his erection. She looked back up at him, her gaze filled with heat. Moving to the edge of the bed, Deanna lifted her hand, fisting him in her palm.
Roarke inhaled sharply, closing his eyes.
Deanna never expected giving Roarke pleasure would bring her such joy. She felt elation coursing through her veins as he groaned his appreciation. She closed her eyes and leaned up to kiss his chest, right over his heart. Her lips tingled as she felt the pounding of his pulse beneath his warm skin. Caressing his shaft, she marvelled at how something so hard could be so smooth.
“Where did you learn to hold a man like that?” Roarke rasped, his lust filled gaze boring into her very soul.
Deanna smiled. “I had a very good teacher.”
Roarke grinned before his face gradually showed his lust, his eyes becoming hooded with passion. “I need you.” He pulled her to her feet. She went willingly, keeping his manhood in her grasp.
Deanna nuzzled his neck, using the tip of her tongue to lick him, making a damp trail along Roarke's jaw, tasting the salt of his skin before capturing his mouth in hers.
“You are a vixen, Deanna Logan,” he groaned against her lips.
She laughed softly. “Which is why you chose me, Roarke Hamilton. I am the only one who can keep up with you.”
Roarke threw his head back and laughed. When he looked down into her eyes, he smiled at the memory. “Who would have thought I’d find the woman destined to be mine walking through the fayre without a chaperone?”
“I was chaperoned,” she said with mock indignation, but her eyes were alight with mischief. “My aunt just couldn’t keep up with me. And who would have thought the man I’d give myself to would be the very man who threw mead in my face?” Deanna planted her hands on her hips, cocking her head to one side.
Roarke growled in protest when Deanna’s hand let go of his erection.
“Deanna, Deanna,” Roarke groaned, hitting his face with his palm, much to Deanna's amusement. “Must you always remind me of that day? I believe I've made up to you many times over.”
“Aye,” she said, continuing to stroke him. “That ye have and more.”
Roarke smiled down at her, his gaze darkening with his need. “I want you verra much.”
He framed her face firmly between his hands before he swooped to take her mouth. She felt the muscles of her sex clench when Roarke’s tongue seared hers. It was a sensation unlike any other she’d ever felt in her life. Her heart raced as though she’d run through the hills surrounding Hamel Dun. Deanna gasped against Roarke's mouth when he brought his hands down to cup her breasts, to tease her nipples through her cotehardie. His touch sent tremulous quivers down to her mound, teasing her to wetness. Bolts of desire ignited her whole body, heating her blood. The tops of her breasts strained against the square neckline as she arched her back to his touch. She felt the delicious throb in her sex, yearning for the caress of Roarke's callused hands. “Touch me, please. I need to feel your hands on my skin.”
He trailed kisses down the column of her throat while he unlaced her gown. “Your wish. My command.” Slipping Deanna’s gown off her shoulders, it pooled on the threshed floor at her feet. Roarke licked her collarbone, her shoulders, leaving a trail of exquisite heat everywhere his mouth touched. His hands continued their sensual exploration of every inch of her skin.
“You set me on fire, my laird,” Deanna moaned in delight when Roarke's hot tongue flicked against her nipple. She held on to his broad shoulders when he teased her peak to an elongated arousal, while his thumb and forefinger did the same thing to her other breast. Her body trembled, and she felt a deep-seated ache she couldn’t explain. “I want. I want…” She knew she needed something, but she didn't know exactly what. There was an ache in the middle of her sex that was almost a hunger. Instinctively, her hips nudged against Roarke's arousal, making him hiss. Her breath hitched at the unbridled desire she saw darkening his silver blue eyes. Her own eyes grew larger when she saw gold flecks dance around his pupils. “Roarke,” she whispered. “Your eyes...”
He smiled, a smile guaranteed to make her weak in the knees. “It’s part of who I am, Deanna.”
Her fingers tentatively touched the corners of his eyes, then she frowned in confusion. “The flecks disappeared.”
Roarke took her hand in his. He seemed to hesitate before he spoke. “Does it scare you?”
“No!” Her eyes widened with her vehemence. She heaved a sigh. “I think it's beautiful.”
A low rumble came from Roarke's throat. “I’ve never been called beautiful, Lass.”
Deanna laughed softly. “Well, know that you are, my love.”
“You are the one who’s beautiful, Deanna.” Roarke's gaze darkened, raking her form and causing goose bumps to rise everywhere his eyes travelled. He brought his hand up to caress her nape, his thumb drawing sensual circles over the sensitive spot behind her ear and down to the pulse beating fast at the base of her throat.
“I cannae see myself with anyone but you,” he said. “I want you by my side. Will you grant my request, Deanna?”
“Oohh?” he asked with a chuckle.
“Roarke Hamilton,” she said, desire coating her words. “You're teasing my privates.”
Roarke leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Do you like it?”
“Aye,” she moaned. Her legs spread of their own volition to allow him greater access. Her hips moved against his fingers. She gripped Roarke's shoulders and cried out when he slipped one finger inside her.
“And this?” The deep timbre of his voice wrapped around her in a mist of seduction.
“Oh, aye, always aye.” Deanna's head fell backwards, exposing her throat. Panting loudly, she whimpered when Roarke's mouth found her neck. He sucked hard on the skin covering her pulse and she shuddered. The erotic kisses sent electric signals down to her vagina and it wept, coating Roarke's finger with her juices. “Roarke!”
His touch was a source of great pleasure. Her channel tightened around his finger, causing him to growl in approval. “How perfect you are, Deanna.” Roarke kissed her, slanting his mouth against hers, plundering deeply. Their tongues twisted and mated with each other.
Deanna’s arms encircled his neck, anchoring her to reality. Yet, she couldn't get enough of him. “I need you, Roarke.” She mewled against his tongue as it imitated the same thrusting movement of his finger teasing her sex. In and out. In and out. Her heart pounded against her chest, almost in tandem with the pace dictated by his touch. She felt the familiar stirrings of release beginning to coil in her belly. She was about to spring. It was always like this. Even though they’d never completed the act, he had brought her to a state of bliss several times with his fingers and mouth. Roarke had promised to introduce her to more carnal pleasure when it was time.
And each encounter was better than the one before.
Still, Roarke always held back. Deanna knew he would be in pain if he didn't find his own release. His jaw always tightened and his breathing grew harsh. She couldn’t stand to see him in need. So, she’d learned how to help him find release with her hand.
Now, she felt a similar ache. What he gave her with his fingers was no longer enough. She was reaching for something. If Roarke’s shaft could satisfy this desperation, she wanted him inside of her. Now.
“Roarke, please,” she begged. “Make me yours. Completely.”
“Aye, Deanna,” he whispered. “This night of the full moon, I will have you. You will be mine for eternity.”
She moaned in protest when Roarke removed his finger.
“Very eager,” he said with a lopsided grin.
“Is that bad?” She looked at him in alarm. Deanna wanted him desperately, but she didn't want him to think she was a wanton. It was hard enough not to throw herself at him.
“Nay, Deanna. I love the way you are. You are perfect.”
Her heart raced in anticipation, her sex clenching sweetly at his words. She smiled seductively before slipping off her shoes. Then she took the end of her hose that stopped midway up her thigh and began to roll it down.
“Don't remove them.” Roarke's voice was so low, Deanna almost didn't hear it. When she arched her eyebrow, he said, “Please leave them. For me.”
Excitement curled in the pit of her stomach and made her pleasure nub throb. With one last look at Roarke, Deanna turned around to crawl toward the middle of the bed.
Deanna looked over her shoulder, perplexed at Roarke’s groan. She gasped when she looked lower to see his rod standing proudly, framed by dark curls. “Roarke?”
“You're going to be the death of me.”
“Stay, just like that.”
Deanna looked at herself, completely baffled. “I’m on my hands and knees.”
“Which is exactly how I want you to be.”
“Stay still, Deanna,” he commanded.
Her eyes widened. She faced front and wondered why Roarke was practically growling. His voice was so low and sensual as to make her heart skip a beat, but she did what she was told. Deanna jerked when she felt his hot hands on her hips. Slowly, he pulled her back closer to the edge of the bed. She gasped when Roarke's hands skimmed over her bottom, closing her eyes when he squeezed her cheeks. Her lust licked her in all the right places, making her feel wicked, wanton, and left her wanting more. Her breath quickened as Roarke caressed her outer thighs with his fingers until he slowly moved inward and upwards to her nether lips.
“So beautiful…” He whispered.
Her breath hitched, her sex quivered, liquid heat beginning to flow. Anticipation of what Roarke was about to do caused her sensitive button to swell. When his finger teased the sides of her mound and the crease of her thigh, Deanna’s hips began to move involuntarily. She pushed against his hand, craving more. But Roarke moved away.
“My laird, you are merciless,” she whimpered. “Why do you tease me so?”
“We are just beginning, my lady. Now stay still, Deanna. God knows how hard it is to keep my need in check. Your pleasure is what I want. So please, do as I say,” he said, his voice strained.
Need. Pleasure. Those two words increased the ache inside her even more.
“Roarke,” she gasped when he blew against her sex. She tensed, her breath catching in her throat when her mind registered it was Roarke's tongue parting the lips of her sex. This decadent sensation was new. Roarke was tasting her, making her even wetter. She was drowning in a lust filled pool, moaning her delight. Deanna’s knees would have buckled beneath her had it not been for Roarke holding her hips up as he speared her with his tongue. She cried out, arching her back and throwing her head up.
“You taste so good, my lady.”Deanna mewled. Wave upon wave of ecstasy crested and receded in her sex, radiating out over her body. Pleasure spiked at the vibrations Roarke's voice made against her slit. She looked back over her shoulder and groaned when she saw her beloved's head moving up and down as he lapped at her opening. She closed her eyes, feeling every thrust of his tongue bringing her closer to the edge. In and out he went, tunnelling deep, driving her to madness. She spiralled in desire, crying out her release. A kaleidoscope of colour exploded behind her eyes. With one last lap of Roarke's talented tongue, she collapsed on the bed.