Page 51 of The Laird's Wicked Game
Pressed up against a pile of sacks, Kylie melted against Rae, her hands sliding up his thick gambeson and linking around his neck as she met his kiss wildly.
Lucifer strike her down, she was daft letting herself respond to him like this. Of late, she’d given herself a strict talking to, reminding herself daily of her purpose at Dounarwyse. This was a new start. She had a good life amongst people she respected. Her friendship with Tara had deepened, and she’d developed a strong rapport with the servants here too. Her charges’ behavior had significantly improved as well. With the cold weather, they couldn’t venture out on their walks as often as in the summer, and Kylie had worried Ailean and Lyle would play up. But they hadn’t.
The independence that she had found here sometimes made her feel giddy. No, she wasn’t a lady laird like Liza, and, aye, she worked for the laird of Dounarwyse, but her role gave her a sense of purpose and achievement. Herarrangementwith Rae allowed her to explore the urges she’d long quashed, and there was a freedom in that too.
The life she’d built here was too important to put at risk—yet here she was, grinding her breasts and groin against the laird, just yards away from where a servant drew water from the well. She could hear the splash of water and the thud of wood against icy stone.
Rae ripped his mouth from hers then. “God help me,” he whispered, his breath feathering across her ear. “I want ye, lass.”
“And Ineedye,” she breathed back. It was difficult to focus, especially when his tongue traced the shell of her ear. She trembled against him, need pulsing between her thighs. “But not here.”
Breathing hard, he drew back, his gaze searing hers. “Meet me upstairs then,” he said, a rasp to his voice. “Wait in the solar, and I shall join ye shortly.”
Kylie’s pulse started to race, excitement churning in her belly now.
Sheshouldremind him of their agreement—that they only ever met on Sunday nights under the cover of darkness and never in the middle of the day. But as their stare drew out, hunger shivering between them, all common sense fled. “Aye,” she replied huskily.
Rae moved back, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as if he was fighting the urge to step close once more, to lift her skirts and plow her right here amongst the sacks of grain.
Breathing shallowly now, Kylie tore her gaze from his, slung her shawl about her shoulders, and turned. She then walked on unsteady legs to the door.
Bathed in sweat, his body quivering as pleasure quickened in his loins, Rae watched Kylie in the looking glass.
She perched upon his lap, her legs spread open across his thighs. He sat on the edge of the bed and had dragged the tall looking glass from the corner of the chamber so that they could watch themselves couple in it.
This had been one position in The Art of Coupling he’d been eager to try for a while. He’d told her early on she could choose the positions, but he couldn’t help himself now. All the same, he’d been shy to suggest it. But when he’d summoned the nerve this afternoon, his lover had agreed without a beat of hesitation.
The light of the blazing hearth a few feet away gleamed on Kylie’s sweat-slick skin and upon the neatly coiled braid that wrapped around the crown of her head. Usually, he unbound her hair before taking her, but this afternoon, there hadn’t been time.
Instead, they’d flown at each other the moment he’d entered the solar and closed the door behind him. Rae had then scooped her up into his arms and carried her through into his bedchamber, where they’d ripped each other’s clothes off.
He’d forced himself to slow down then and had taken the well-thumbed book off the shelf by his bed. Kylie’s mouth had curved as she watched him, her oaken eyes darkening with anticipation.
She loved this game as much as he did.
His lover shuddered then, as his fingers stroked between her spread thighs, and her head dropped back against his shoulder. In response, Rae grazed his teeth along the column of her neck.
“Christ’s blood, ye are glorious,” he ground out, his gaze returning to the looking glass. “Just look at ye.”
Her swollen breasts rose and fell sharply as she lowered her chin and shifted her attention to their reflection. There she was, opened wide for him, her lush body bared. A flush rose to her cheekbones then, and her lips parted as she slowly circled her hips against him, bringing him deeper.
Their gazes met in the looking glass, and held for the barest instant, before hers hurriedly slid away.
It always did at intimate moments.
Rae was no better, he supposed. The idea of looking deep into her eyes while he took her made something inside him quail—for there was an intimacy to the act that flustered him. But whenever he got up the courage to do so, Kylie either closed her eyes or turned her head to one side.
“Plow me, Rae,” she gasped then. “From behind.”
They slid to the floor, and he took her on all fours upon the sheepskin, between the bed and the looking glass. There, he gripped Kylie’s hips and rode her hard.
Meanwhile, she shuddered and groaned, her head hanging between her braced shoulders. “Oh, Jesu,” she gasped, the desperate edge to her voice making heat ignite at the base of his spine. He was close now. She arched her back with each thrust, her arse pushing up against him.
And as he drove into her again, she shattered, a choked cry ripping from her throat. They were making too much noise this afternoon, yet he didn’t care. He could think of nothing except losing himself inside this woman.
At that moment, he caught a glimpse of her face in the looking glass. The flush on her cheeks had spread down her neck now. The ecstasy that suffused her features made something constrict deep in his chest.
Tightening his grip upon her hips, he drew back once more, raising her up. And this time, he looked down at where their bodies met, and where she clutched at him, pink and wet.