Page 55 of The Iron Earl
He squeezed her hand then stood. “Come with me to the bed?”
Her look dipped down his naked body, the flush in her cheeks deepening into a crimson hue as her gaze paused at his engorged member. Her eyes lifted to his face. “You wish to do it again?”
“I do. And this time, you are not to lie down on that bed until your knees are weak and can no longer support you.”
“Why would my knees go weak?”
He smiled, wicked, and tugged her to her feet.
“If I perform my duties correctly, you’re about to find out.” He stepped into her space, his head dipping down to brush his lips along her jaw, light, gentle, the caress of a midsummer’s breeze. His thumbs hooked under the straps of her chemise and he slowly dragged it downward off her body.
She didn’t resist, not that he thought she would. His new wife was overly accommodating in the bedchamber.
Accommodating would not do.
He didn’t want her accommodating—he wanted her writhing, his name a mewl on her tongue, begging him for release.
Her chemise landed in a pile about her feet and his hand slipped behind her to the small of her back. His lips parted, his tongue tracing a long line down her neck, tasting the salt of her. He instantly wanted more—a deep thirst for her taste he couldn’t quite place.
A soft moan and her head tilted to the side, allowing him better access, and he shuffled her backward three steps toward the bed. Her body had gone pliant, easy to maneuver.
Shifting her long russet locks behind her shoulder, he smiled into her skin as a quivering breath lifted her chest and his mouth trailed a line of kisses along the fine line of her collarbone.
Lifting his head, he found her lips, his tongue parting them, raking against her teeth, and he was rewarded with the tang of sweet wine still on her tongue. The lightness of the kiss deepened to a brutal feast without conscious thought.
Just when he thought he’d gone too far, needing to pull away before scaring her, her body pressed forward, her skin touching his, her breasts on his chest, her hips pushing her belly onto his cock.
Heaven. Pure, sweet heaven.
There wasn’t the slightest shyness in how her body molded into his—almost awkward without the suave movements of a seasoned lover. No—her body did what instinct demanded, her skin needing his.
The hardness of his member strained viciously, demanding to be sated.
It would have to wait.
He broke the kiss before it sent him too far down a path he could not veer from and he set his lips to her neck once more.
Her breathing sped, soft gasps every time his mouth swept over a sensitive nerve. He sank farther, his mouth finding her left nipple. It was already taut as he drew it into his mouth and he sucked it, teasing it with the tips of his teeth.
“Lachlan.” His name tumbled from her lips, raw and breathless.
Just like he wanted it. Filling his ears again and again.
Her hands shifted to the back of his head, her fingers digging deep into his hair and clutching him to her breast.
As much as her left breast wanted him, he wasn’t about to neglect her right. He shifted, ignoring the disappointed gasp escaping her as his lips left her. The gargled sound in her throat died out, satisfied as he clamped onto her right nipple.
It was only moments before her breaths started to heave, erotic moans bubbling from deep in her chest.
“Lachlan.”
“Yes?”
“My knees are weak.”
He chuckled into her skin, the salty sheen of it pressing to his lips.
His tongue still swirling about her nipple, not breaking contact, his hands slipped around the swell of her buttocks, lifting her and walking her the last two steps to the bed.