Desire in Tartan: 2 (Highland Vampires) by Suz deMello Page A

me . She’d just washed in the ocean. And everything that Dugald and she had done had felt good, if…different.
    So she didn’t ask him to move his hand. Rather, while he had her, and she him, she wriggled so his hand teased that mysterious, forbidden, enticing spot.
    Leaning forward, she kissed him, shivering with a peculiar mixture of desire, heat and, yes, cold, for the morning was chilly as was his mouth and his hands. Could she reach the pinnacle she’d climbed last night?
    She didn’t know if she could until Dugald walked over to the pile of clothes he’d previously dumped and laid her upon them. She sprawled over finery of all sorts—satin and velvet, brocade and golden trim. Her bottom rested on a silken scarf while she fingered fine lace. She sniffed suspiciously, but contact with the air outside the cave had swept away the cavern’s stink from the fabrics, replacing it with an oceanic freshness.
    Still inside her, looming over her, Dugald leaned his weight on one elbow and picked up a chain with his other hand. He trailed its end across her naked breasts. Another new feeling—one she liked, for her nipples had been sensitized by his loving. She was drawn to her breasts as much as he was and so she cupped them, giving them a squeeze so they appeared larger, the nipples higher, tighter.
    “I like that. I like watching you touch yourself.” His voice was husky. He bent his head and licked her offered nipples before sucking them. “Mmm, salty.”
    “Are they?” She was absurdly delighted. “Are they good?”
    “Aye, and I imagine that this is sweet.” He slid down her body until his head rested near her mound. He parted her legs with a gentle hand. “Your cunny is more pink than last eve.”
    His candor unaccustomed, she giggled. “It’s…umm, she’s had more attention than ever before.”
    “Aye, and it willnae be the last time.” He bent his head and kissed her softly, parting the folds with his lips before taking her with his tongue.
    She opened her legs wider and reached down to guide his head to the spot that would please her the most, that little bump atop her slit. He obliged, licking her there while sliding a finger inside her channel.
    While she allowed bliss to flood her body, her mind hadn’t stopped. She wondered what she’d become. Last night she’d thought they were going to die, which had made what she did with Dugald permissible, of no consequence given their probable fate. But what were her reasons on this new, bright day?
    She’d been carried away by the beauty of the morning and sheer relief that she—they—were still alive. That did not make what they were doing right, or smart.
    But could she stop herself, or him?
    Later, p’raps, but not at this moment, not when he had his head buried between her legs and his tongue buried in her cunny and his fingers, his marvelously long, clever fingers, buried in her channel doing delicious and naughty things.
    Naughty. She’d never before been naughty. Never had the opportunity, really, not after her mother had died and they’d lost their home and everything had gone to—she dared think the word— hell.
    There. She hadn’t said it, but she’d thought it. My life had been hell. And hell for her had been a cold and lonely place, wandering between different colleges and universities, never knowing a true home, not since Mama had died. She’d taken care of her father and made the semblance of a home as best as she had been able wherever they’d been, but life had been hard. Life had been hell.
    Dugald stopped kissing her cunny and looked up the length of her naked form and into her eyes. “What is it, mistress? For a mo’ ye seemed ten thousand furlongs away.”
    She came back to the moment and smiled at him. “I was just thinking.”
    “Thinking?” His black brows drew together. “Ye’re not supposed to think when your man makes love to ye, lass. Ye’re supposed to feel. But what thoughts trouble your lovely head?”