He crossed the room in a few long strides and lowered her to the rocking chair. Dragging the generous mounds of her bottom to the very edge with a smooth motion, he hooked her knees over the arms of the chair, imprisoning them open with the width of his torso.
All this he did while distracting her with his tongue swirling inside her mouth.
Suddenly it mattered not how many men had tasted her before. He didn’t care.
She’d just claimed him with her mouth. He’d felt it with every instinct he’d honed in this cold, feral, inhospitable place.
And he was about to stake a claim of his own.
She’d learned him quickly, her face a mask of dreamlike discovery. She’d made him feel like he was the only man she’d ever wanted. Had ever known.
He was about to repay in kind.
He never broke the kiss as he tossed her skirt over her knees and ripped her undergarments asunder.
She made a startled little sound and he captured her wrist, gently but firmly replacing his mouth with her own fingers against her lips.
“I’m going to make ye scream, lass,” he vowed against her ear. “So bite down to keep quiet.”
Her answer was a delicate flare of her nostrils over a shuddering breath as he pulled away to look at her.
The firelight snapped and sputtered over a particularly dry log, sending showers of sparks into the air behind him.
The light gleamed off where she splayed open for him. Vulnerable. Exposed.
So utterly edible.
Lust threatened to knock him over. Had he not already been on his knees, the sheer force of it would have driven him there.
Her sex glistened with ready moisture. The ruffles of flesh pink and pretty, the little nubbin at their aperture visibly throbbing. Engorged. A soft tuft of dark russet hair protected the secret cove, beckoning to his fingers.
A part of him yearned to see all of her, but there would be time for that. Time to unwrap her as she did those damned truffles. With relish. With delight. With anticipation and impatience.
But now. He must dine. Feast upon her flesh. Sup on her desire and drink of the flood of pleasure he was about to provoke from the warm, intimate depths of her before he staked his final claim.
Christ but she was crafted for sin. Plump and perfect, her long, thick white thighs encircled by garters of green created a flawless cradle for his shoulders.
He glanced up into her beautiful, heart-shaped countenance, and whatever she read in his eyes caused her to tremble. A ripple of diffidence creased her forehead. Her eyes were peeled wide and gleamed with threatening moisture, and her hand was white and bloodless where she clamped it over her mouth.
She reached for him, but he needed no prompting.
He kissed her. There. Luxuriating in her feminine musk. Never had a woman so seduced his every olfactory sense.
She gave an adorable squeak and lifted her free hand to clutch at the back of the chair behind her.
A dark chuckle escaped him, vibrating against her sex as he settled between her thighs. He was just getting started.
Christ, she was soft. And slick.
His hands splayed on the tender skin of her inner thighs before caressing up to where they met. He played in her intimate curls for a moment before spreading her sex wider. Granting him devious, unrestricted access.
She inhaled sharply, and a tremor overtook her, racking through the strong muscles of her legs.
Someday she would ride him with those long legs. Ride his mouth. His cock.
He couldn’t fucking wait.
Nipping and laving at the crests and ridges of her pliant flesh, he glowed with a masculine satisfaction at her every hitching breath and the astonishment in the mewls she couldn’t allow to escape from her throat.
He circled the little pearl with a wicked tongue, leaving it untouched. Lowering his attentions, he dipped into the well of moisture, flattening his tongue to spread it higher.
Her breaths were naught but ragged little puffs. The sinew of her legs flexed and trembled, her hips curling and arching toward his mouth in blind demands.
And still he didn’t relent.
She strained and twisted until Ramsay had to use his strength to hold her in place. The tiny sounds behind her hand turned to pathetic little pleas.
He’d wanted to take longer, to dine until he had his fill, but, it seemed, he was not impervious to her sweet, husky entreaties for release.
Finally, he feathered his tongue over her crest, applying the very lightest of pressure.
She came apart beneath his mouth, smothering a hoarse cry as her legs struggled to close, but were impeded by the sturdy arms of the chair. Ramsay held her down, pleasuring her relentlessly, flicking his tongue just below her nub.
His vision swam and clouded as she came in long, rolling waves. Her sex rolled against his face, hips bucking, flooding his mouth with the slippery moisture he craved. He stayed with her, pressing her thighs wider with his hands, pinning her down. Spilling pleasure from his lips and tongue, not intending to cease until she could take no more.
He had to be certain he’d launched her to the same place she’d sent him only moments before. That place where time and space ceased to exist. Where names were forgotten and consequences were damned.
He’d never forget the sight of her like this. Open and writhing. Tears rolling into her mussed curls as she convulsed beneath his hungry mouth. She bit at the flesh of her palm, and he found that so decadently sensual, he swelled almost to bursting.
The feral part she’d awakened in him wanted to bite her thigh. To mark her as his. But she reached down between them, her fingers plunging into his hair. She yanked and pulled, peeling his mouth away from her sex with a loud, wet sound.
“I can’t…” she panted.
“I know, lass,” he growled wickedly, prowling up her splayed body, allowing her to tug him against her.
“I need you close.” The confession sounded so small. So young and vulnerable as she grasped at him, burying her face in his neck. “That. That was so…” Her breath hit his chest in little puffs as she nuzzled into him, lifting her knees away from the arms of the chair and locking them around his waist.
He swiped at his mouth with the back of his hand before burying his face against her curls. “Ye’re the most delicious woman,” he crooned. “I’ll forever crave yer taste.”
“Truly?” She sounded both pleased and astonished. If a voice could blush, hers would have done it.
Had no one ever told her that before?
His sex, already hard and hot, slid against her slick flesh, seeking a home in her welcoming warmth.
He could feel the little pulses of her feminine muscles in the aftermath of her orgasm. When he would have thrust forward, she pulled her head back, looking up at him, her gaze searching and uncertain.
“Ramsay?”
He paused, staring down into eyes as deep blue as the Adriatic Sea, and just as mysterious. “Aye?”
“Will you hate me after?”
He only hated himself for ever causing her to fear that.
Tucking a wild curl behind her ear, he welled with such a deep tenderness it soothed the wild beast he’d become. “I never hated ye, Cecelia,” he confided. “Not even when I believed ye deserved it.”
She closed her eyes and sought his mouth for a kiss, which he gave her. Her body rolled against his, her hips arching upward in eager invitation.
He found her opening without using his hand to guide him, and wet the crown of his cock with her abundant moisture before driving forward.