The Soldier's Rebel Lover

He thought he might come. It took him every bit of self-control he possessed to wait, to get himself under control, but he did it. She was a feast he had waited a long time to consume. He wanted to enjoy every morsel. He slipped his hands under her bottom, tilting her towards him, and licked. She was already tight. Already on the brink. He was careful not to send her over, slowly licking and stroking just enough, then moving away, sliding his fingers inside her, thrusting slowly, carefully. Her moans had become pleas. Her hands were in his hair, on his shoulders, his arms. He licked again. He thrust again with his fingers. She cried out his name, a desperate sound. He licked again, slowly but relentlessly, and she came with a loud cry, pulsing against him, the taste of her so unbearably sweet, so uniquely his lovely Isabella, that he closed his eyes to relish it, telling her again and again, to the rhythm of her climax, whispering so softly that she could not hear him, that he loved her, loved her, loved her.

When the pulses faded to ripples, Finlay looked up to find her watching him again. He smiled. Isabella smiled back, a slow, sensuous, sated smile. He could call a halt now. He thought about it. But then she reached for him, pulling him towards her, her hands on the waistband of his breeches, shaking her head as if she had read his mind. ‘I am hungry, too,’ she said. ‘Take them off. I want to see you naked,’ she said urgently.

He wanted her to look. It was strange, he’d never felt like that before, but he wanted her to see him. He kissed her again before dragging his mouth from hers and hurriedly divesting himself of the last of his clothes. Even in the moonlight, he could see the flush of colour tingeing her cheeks. It was delightful. She was delightful.

‘May I touch you?’

‘You need to ask? I can think of nothing I want more.’ He knelt before her, once more between her legs. She sat up. Her blush was quite distinct now, but she was still looking at him in that intent, sultry way that made him ache with the need to be inside her. She touched his belly. With her finger, she traced the line of hair that arrowed down to his groin. She stroked his flanks. She traced the line of his buttocks. His muscles tightened in response. She reached for his shaft. He inhaled sharply, praying for self-control. Her touch was the faintest feathering, tracing the length of him with her fingertip. ‘Dear God,’ he said.

She yanked her hand away. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘No.’ He couldn’t catch his breath. ‘No. I’m just— It is just...’

‘You like it?’ Her smile became feline. Predatory. She touched him again, feathering up and down the length of him. ‘I think you like it a lot?’

‘Aye,’ he said, snatching a kiss from her, ‘a lot.’

‘And this?’

She circled her fingers around his girth. He nodded, gritting his teeth.

‘And this?’

A slow stroke of her hand. Finlay nodded again. Pain and pleasure; he’d no idea they were such bedmates.

‘And this.’

Another stroke, more sure, but still slow. And another. He was going to come. He would not come. Not yet. ‘Isabella.’

She stopped at the warning note in his voice. Then she smiled at him again.

‘And this, Finlay?’

Her lips touched the tip of his shaft. He felt her tongue, hot on the most sensitive part of him. With a long, low groan of ecstasy and regret, he pulled himself free of her and laid her down, covering her body with his. ‘You are a sorceress,’ he said. ‘You are the most delightful, delicious, desirable sorceress, and you have me under your spell and I can’t wait any longer. Do you still want this, Isabella? Because if you don’t, now is the time to say so.’

For answer, she put her arms around his neck and kissed him. ‘I want this. I want you. More than anything.’

* * *

Her words were no lie. She ached in a way she had never ached before, her body yearning for him in a new way. She wanted him inside her. She wanted that sleek, silken part of him inside her. She tilted herself towards him in open invitation, worlds beyond modesty or embarrassment, caring nothing for her utter lack of experience, surrendering completely to her body’s instincts. His kiss was hard and deep. His tongue thrust into her mouth. She was hot, fevered, tense, urgent, but he entered her slowly. She opened her eyes to watch him. His gaze locked on hers as his body became part of her until he filled her. There was no pain. There was only delight. And more tension. Her muscles clenched around him. He pushed higher inside her, and she felt an odd fluttering sensation. Then he waited, watching her. She pulled him towards her for another kiss. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes.’ Permission for anything. Everything. She wanted all of him.

‘Yes,’ he whispered. ‘Oh, yes.’