Alasdair’s hands moved swiftly, undoing the buttons of his shirt. His chest, broad and sculpted as if shaped by the earth itself, rose and fell steadily with each breath.
Elizabeth’s gaze lingered on the taut planes of muscle, the faint dusting of dark hair, the way his body seemed carved to withstand every trial. A fresh surge of longing bloomed in her, unexpected and fierce, stirring anew even after the depths of pleasure he had already gifted her.
“Alasdair,” she breathed, voice trembling with awe and aching need.
“Yes, darlin’?” He arched a brow, his hands lingering on the hem of his breeches in a slow, tantalizing rhythm.
Elizabeth groaned. The grin on his face was nothing short of devilish.
The devil wanted to torment her.
“Please,” she mumbled, biting her lip.
He inhaled sharply, and she saw the fabric of his breeches strain and tighten against his… manhood.
“Aye, I could get used to this, Duchess,” he purred and shed his breeches with an ease that spoke of quiet confidence, revealing the proud, hard length that throbbed eagerly beneath the fabric.
Without hesitation, he turned back to her, his fingers deftly unlacing the bodice of her gown, drawing it down inch by tantalizing inch. Her skin burned beneath his touch, every nerve afire, her body trembling with want. She knew he felt it, knew he savored her vulnerability and the hunger she no longer tried to deny.
“I want to see all of ye, Elizabeth,” he whispered, voice thick with need.
She could only nod, cheeks flushed with heat and vulnerability.
Yes, that was what she wanted too. Bare and open, she revealed herself to him, the soft swell of her breasts, the curve of her waist, the secret places that now belonged to him alone.
But instead of rushing, he stepped back and regarded her slowly, like a man savoring a feast meant only for him. His eyes roamed over her bare skin, lips parting in a slow, appreciative lick.
“Ye’re far more beautiful than me wildest imaginings, me darlin’,” he murmured, heavy-lidded and full of desire. “So radiant, so ready for me.”
Elizabeth held his gaze, though a warm blush spread across her cheeks and down her neck. She wanted to meet his eyes as he drank her in; she wanted to feel the heat of his admiration wash over her like a gentle flame.
But the admiration was only the beginning.
Closing the distance between them, Alasdair cupped her breasts with hands as gentle as they were sure. His thumbs brushed lightly over her nipples, and she squeezed her eyes shut, overwhelmed by the exquisite sensations.
A soft moan escaped her lips as he dipped his head, capturing one sensitive peak between his mouth, while his fingers danced teasingly over the other.
“Alasdair,” she gasped, pressing his head closer, needing more of him.
“Do ye like that, my Elizabeth?” he murmured against her skin.
“Yes,” she breathed, voice thick with need and want.
He shifted, lavishing equal attention on the other breast, his mouth pulling and swirling with delicate, hungry pressure. Each movement seemed to echo through her core, intensifying the heat pooling between her legs. She was wet, soaked with desire, yet now, under his ministrations, she was even more drenched, every nerve ending alive.
“Ye’re ready,” he whispered, eyes locking with hers, dark and shining with something fierce and possessive.
Elizabeth sank deeper into the soft mattress, every muscle loose and trembling as he positioned himself between her thighs. Their lips met again in a kiss that tasted of promise and urgent longing. She caught the sweet salt of herself on his tongue, a delicious reminder of their shared hunger.
A shiver ran through her as she felt the tip of him press gently at her entrance.
“I’m ready,” she whispered, her voice small but certain.
Slowly, agonizingly, he began to push inside her, inch by exquisite inch. A gasp escaped her lips as she felt herself stretch to hold him. Her fingers dug into the muscle of his back, clutching tightly as sensation exploded through her.
A split second of pain, then her eyes rolled in the back of her head, the pleasure so overwhelming it stole her vision.
“Ye daenae know how incredible ye feel, Elizabeth,” Alasdair groaned low in his throat, struggling to contain his own desire.