A Knight and White Satin. Jackie Ivie

Dallis’s lips held for a moment and then gave to the marauding twist of his tongue and then she was experiencing waves of heat ebb and transfer through her and into him, and then back, as he flicked again and again to the caverns of her suddenly willing and voracious mouth.

      She wasn’t aware of the answering moan that came from her as her limited knowledge of sensation was shattered and then leveled to dust. The whorl of emotion he was stirring she’d never before known, never before tested, hadn’t even been aware of. Nothing in her night-time dreams had warned her of the spiral of passion he was putting into place. Nothing had been close. She didn’t feel him moving, going to his haunches on the mattress and bringing her with him, settling her into the triangle support of a bent leg, until the heat and rigidity of his arousal came into contact with her material-covered belly, making everything on her go oddly alert and focused and frightened.

      “Nae…”

      Dallis managed to pull her mouth from his long enough to say it before he had her lips again, this time lapping at both upper and lower before taking the upper into his mouth with such a delicate suction action, she was crazed with how it felt. All the while the hand at her rear alternately squeezed and lifted. Squeezed. Lifted…and then held her against his arousal time and again, while everything on him alternately shook and then stiffened.

      His other hand wasn’t unoccupied or lazy. That one was about her shoulders now, supporting and holding her and making certain she couldn’t put deed to word until nothing about her was in denial except her mind, and even that her body was betraying.

      He was pushing her backward, using his kiss for the tool, his upper body for leverage, and his hands to guarantee her movement until her head and shoulders reached the pillows, placing her in an arch over his bent leg. Dallis’s hands moved then, releasing the satin to mold against the hard mounds of his chest, where the feel of his bare flesh against her palms was nearly as vicious a sensation as his tongue had been.

      “Nae,” she mouthed again the moment he released her lips.

      “Why now?” His voice was lower than before and it wasn’t whispered. And he was looking at her with a blend of anger and something else she didn’t know enough about to name.

      “I…doona’ ken,” she stammered, and earned herself another huff of amusement.

      “Doona’ fash yourself, then. I ken well enough for the both of us.”

      He released the arm at her back, sliding it away and making her skin suffer the colder temperature of the bedding at her back without his warmth, and that impression was only slightly offset by where he’d moved it.

      “Nae…please?” Dallis was begging and hated the pleading tone in her voice as much as she hated the urge that made her say it.

      “You’d best be begging for what I can give, lass.”

      He was whispering it against the sensitive tissues of her lips that felt sucked raw, and then he was moving his mouth along her jawline…to her neck. And then he was lacing her chest with trails of fire-laced wetness he’d tongued into place. His hand was helping, and Dallis felt him at the edge of her satin, pushing it down, slapping slightly at the fingers she was putting in his way. She’d given off trying to hold him from her with her hands, and was using them now to keep him from seeing…touching…tasting.

      The material slid lower, pushed by his tongue as well as his fingers, and his chuckle was making everything worse. Dallis pulled each breath in with a tense motion and let it out with a hiss as she struggled, hearing a slight rip of cloth, sensing air, and then the defeat as her nipple popped free. Then, the other. And then she was slamming her eyes shut to all of it.

      That was worse.

      “You’re pleasant fair, lass. Ripe. Soft. Womanly. Perfect…”

      She heard his whisper through rasps of breath, felt the caress of air, and then arched in shock as what could only be his tongue claimed a breast tip, lapping all about her flesh with precision and skill, and making everything on her react. She had her eyes scrunched so tight the most vivid yellow light arced through her lids, joining the riot of pleasure that started in her nether region and then swelled through her entire frame, turning her into a quivering mass of delight as his tongue gave way to his entire mouth and the suckling drove her to the brink of eroticism and then shoved her right over it. The yawning chasm of pleasure she fell into cradled her for whole moments of time as Payton toyed with her flesh, moving his ministrations from one to the other nipple, and at one point placing them in a conjoined position so he could slather both with attention at the same time.

      Dallis was kicking against the bed, lurching and shoving herself against him, into him, and holding wads of hair in her fingers as she hung on, shivered, moaned, and then shrieked with the eruption of pleasure.

      “Oh…dear God. Sweet…sweet…Oh!”

      She was mouthing the words and then she was screaming them. And it was Payton orchestrating it, huffing a bit between his ministrations to make certain of a response. Then he was moving the white satin lower, lifting his weight from her with one arm, while the other slid the material down…revealing the flatness of her belly, and swell of her hip…the reddish colored hair of her woman-place. And then he swore with a deep guttural tone, while the mattress bowed and then rocked with his exit from it.

      Dallis was afraid to open her eyes at first. The position he’d left her in was indefensible, open and wanton and female. There was nothing about her that looked to be fighting him, either.

      The sound of movement at the door had her moving her head, pulling the satin from her knees at the same time. It was Payton. He was maneuvering the door back into the portal preparatory to dropping the bolt on it. It probably wouldn’t hold, but it was better than the yawning opening of before. He was breathing extremely hard. And then he turned.

      Dallis gaped. Her entire frame started shuddering and she had to slam her eyes shut again, and hope he wouldn’t see the awe and fear before she could stanch it. He was still clad in the plaid trews, but they were hooked on what he possessed, delineating a weapon Dallis instinctively knew was going to cleave her apart. And worse. She wanted it. Desperately. With a craving she didn’t know how to contain…. And with the lowly, base-born Dunn-Fadden laird.

      “There. That should hold.”

      His words were gruff and he was nearing. Dallis didn’t open her eyes. She didn’t move. She was trembling with the effort of stopping her response to everything he did.

      “You were right a-fore. The door should be shut. Barred.”

      “What?” She whispered it through cold lips.

      “Nae man sees my wife. Na’ now that I ken how glorious she is.”

      The bed dipped with his entry into it and then he was fitting himself beside her if the movement of the mattress was any indication. Nothing on her was fighting it and yet everything was. Dallis kept her eyes closed, denying the knowledge entry.

      “Why did you cover again?” he asked from a position above her head, every breath ruffling strands of her hair.

      She shook her head.

      “You’ll na’ say?”

      She shook her head again.

      “Why na’?”

      He was fitting a finger along her collarbone and sliding it along flesh that was so sensitive, the motion raised a riot of goose bumps.

      She shook her head again.

      “I appear to have marked you. Na’ good.”

      “What?” Dallis whispered again. Nothing he said made sense. The way he was holding himself from her made less of it.

      “We’ve but started, lass. You ken?” he asked.

      Dallis shook her head again.

      He grunted. “’Tis a good thing, that. And bad.”

      “What?”