Hidden Jewel (Heartfire Series) (23 page)

She did neither, though the desire was there. Instead, she gave a short nod of acknowledgment. "Aye, you're fully capable, I'm sure," she answered thoughtfully, her gaze taking in the full length of the man, the breadth of strong shoulders, powerful even in a relaxed state. She paused curiously at the front of his kilt, stared hard enough to bring a flush to his cheeks, noticeable when she met his eye.

"Do you want to see just how truthful I am, Ailill?" he asked, surprised at his own boldness today. He felt like grabbing her, forcing her to test his ability.

"Nay, Micah. I don't.
My
experience in the sexual arts is quite lacking... I haven't done much more than kiss a lad. I've never set eyes upon a mphm... a cock, as you put it, when it was full with need; not up close, at least. You are technically a virgin, as you've... mph-"

"Kept my cock outta other women," he put in helpfully; his grin was ingratiating.

"Aye, as you say, though I do question the validity of that. A mouth is just as stimulating as the real thing, isn't it? But, wait, before you get all defensive again," she quickly added, seeing an argument forming in the strained set of his shoulders, in his clenched jaws. She sat up, knowing he'd do the same, though he clearly wished to take her right there, by the dungy field; to prove himself and whatever he considered to be his sense of manhood. She nearly grinned.

"You're a virgin, and so am I." Her statement was simple, direct as her look. "You've got questions, so do I. It's the not knowing that makes us strangers, the lack of answers that holds us apart though we are kindred spirits, you and I. Correct?"

"Yeah." He gave a perfunctory nod, eyed her uneasily. When she smiled, he blushed, almost sure of what her first question would be; not sure if he was prepared to grant her what she wanted without embarrassing himself.

"Will you kiss me?"

She could have knocked him over with a feather. He'd not been expecting that. "Uh, I'm filthy," he answered, chagrined.

"As am I. And I don't give a damn if you were covered with sewage. Two things have I been unable to keep from my mind, Micah, and two things you can answer right now." He was curious. His eyes glowed with it and she smiled. "One- I wish to know what it would be like to kiss you... a real kiss, not some brotherly peck, nor a tonguing full in the depths of a drunken haze." She blinked, owl-like, and stared hard at his mouth.

"And two?"

"I want to see you, to know what I am to be up against, when we give our long horded innocence up to each other."

"And what makes you think we'll do that?"

"Och, well, because it is to be," Ailill replied calmly; yet another riddle. "So? Will you?"

Micah drew a deep breath, shifted uneasily where he sat, and glanced around. He felt like she was testing him; like he'd better give the right answer or else he wouldn't get another chance. His ears were burning with embarrassment but he leaned close, took her by the shoulders, and kissed her for all he was worth.

His lips were soft yet firm, willful in an undemanding sort of way; the smooth tip of his tongue prodded her lips, seeking entry and she melted into him, tasting the salt of his sweat, the sweet, mildly minty flavor of his mouth. She'd meant it to be a simple kiss; on its own, it became far more, lasted far longer than intended. A rush swept through her, a heady need, mirrored in the increasing ferocity of Micah's kiss; his hands moved of their own accord, slid down her arms, feeling the velvety smoothness, the blatant power just under the surface.

"It's like a peach," he husked softly, drawing a shaky breath. "Soft and firm, smooth; perfect." His thumbs circled her nipples, brought a gasp to her own lips, and he looked down, smiled slightly at the erect nodes. "You taste like a peach, Abby, sweet and juicy, warmed by the sun." When he bent for another taste, Ailill pressed against him, a tremor running through her, hot and slick; a need that was as natural as it was alien. Feeling as if he'd burst with the wanting, Micah drew back, took her hand, placing it over the tented material of his kilt. His eyes were dark with desire; he knew of the change in himself; seeing it in Ailill, her eyes suddenly deepest blue, was like a gift, unexpected, welcomed. "I don't think it could get any bigger than you've made it."

The whispered words drew her eyes downward, his fingers pulling the woolen plaid away inch by inch until his erection seemed to be winking back at her. It was big, but she'd expected that; size was renowned throughout his paternal branch. It pulsed visibly, throbbed under her scrutinizing gaze, and seemed to grow still more with the tentative touch of her fingertip; long and thick, hard and smooth; she suddenly understood the meaning behind the frequent jests cast about the Morna clan. The words escaped her before she realized.

"Stud horse?" Meaning to push her hand away at the whispered insult, Micah's own fingers clamped hard around her own, his hand moving hers toward his easement. Something new; she would have naturally picked up on the motions of a hand job but she allowed him to do it for her, liking the strength of his fingers over hers.

"Your clan... many call the men stud horses," she husked breathlessly, highly turned on by his actions. "You've all got stonners like thoroughbred stallions, bodies to match. Kiss me again."

It was hard not to laugh. In all his life, in all Jacob's shared experience, whispered in the deep of night, Micah had never heard their size referred to in such a colorful way. But no, Ailill's soft, firm grip was taking over control of his senses. The way her cheeks pinkened, flushed with excitement, did not help his control a bit.
She's as horny as I am
, he realized. This time when he kissed her, he reached a dirt smeared hand beneath her skirt, felt the intensity of her heat, her need. She jerked in surprise, renewed the motion of her small fist with frenzied ardor as his fingers teased, took her to a realm unknown before; it was too much, the pleasure she so easily caused. He wanted her with all his being, and he knew she was ready, but Micah instinctively felt compelled to question her willingness.

"Is this how you want it?"

"Hmm?"

"Abby?"

"Hmm? What'd you say?"

Pulling back, Micah put a purposeful halt on their rapidly growing lust, breathing heavily as he searched her passion darkened eyes. "I'm not a guy who'll take advantage," he said quietly. "If this is how and where you want it, Abby, I'll give you all you want, but I think you should take a minute to think about the implications. I know what you're supposed to do." He kissed her, fervent in his desire, yet he held back. "I won't just love you and leave you, and neither would Jacob. Would you?"

"No. I cannot just leave, after."

"Is this how you want to remember your first time?" His hand came up, fingers slick, muddy where they had been touching her moist heat. "We're filthy, Abby. It ain't just dirt on our skin. I want you as bad as I ever wanted anything or anyone, but I don't want you to regret me." He was completely serious, she saw.

"Well... we could bathe first. I would still want you to have me." Smiling, she kissed him again.

"And cool
this
in a pond? I don't know if I like that idea." Without a word, Ailill stood, reached out a hand, which he took with alacrity. Casting a brief glance down, he was suddenly glad of the concealment of a kilt.
Ain't no way this hard-on's going away without release
. He eyed Ailill as she walked, wanted to just throw her down and take her.
Aw, hell
.

The maid was still cleaning the kitchen; she stared with saucer eyes as Ailill strode in with Micah close on her heels. "Aye, Ellfie Quinn, do ye hold yon bletherin' tongue. Go awa'. Yer dismissed for the day," she stated casually, intentionally heavy on the accent, more than loud enough to be heard as she ascended the steps. When she pulled Micah forcibly into the upstairs bathroom, he did not resist.

"I never showered with a girl before," Micah whispered sometime later as he stood, naked, dripping on her bedroom floor. "Never kissed someone for so long, either."

“
Was very... stimulating, aye?"

"Very."

"Do you still want me?"

"Ain't it obvious?" he said with a shaky laugh. His erection was as full as it had ever been, almost painfully hard; he grinned sheepishly as she stared at it with wide eyes.

"I want you, too, Micah. Is it obvious?"

Eyes narrowed, he studied her intently from head to toe to head. She was as naked as he, far more at ease in her own skin; pinkened from the heat of the shower, it glowed in the light streaming through the small window. But the shower hadn't been
that
hot and though her flesh had that fresh scrubbed glow, it had been he who'd washed her; and kissed her; and touched her while he was washing and kissing her. His body fairly hummed with the realization. She could sense it, he knew; he did not care. He met her eyes with a boldness unlike himself.

"Your eyes darken like mine when you're turned on," he said. "Did you know that?" Her nod caused dripping tendrils to fall over one shoulder, nearly covering her left breast like a curtain that fell to mid-thigh. "You have the longest hair I've ever seen. It's really beautiful;
you're
really... beautiful." Suddenly feeling awkward, he looked away, stared at the floor, emerald green carpet, thick and luxuriant beneath the soles of his feet. Ailill watched a flush creep up his chest; muscles well-defined, almost too thick, his flesh was a natural bronze, a statue come to life; unadorned by the piercings, the tattoos so common in the men she had grown up with, Micah's chest was as smooth as any bairn, but a thin line of black curls ran smooth and straight from below his navel to his genitals. A more beautiful man she'd never seen, and there were three who looked like him, many more with a marked resemblance. If only he knew that.

"You're nervous; a wee bit frightened. Why?" Looking at her sharply, Micah inhaled deeply through his nose, forced himself to step closer.

"Because," he half-whispered. "I want to do right by you, Abby. I've never been more scairt in my life of fuckin' things up." In understanding, she smiled, her features lightened considerably with the honest admission.

"You'll do fine, I believe. It is an instinctive thing, this, and as natural to our kind as breathing." Moving to take his hand, drawing him slowly toward the huge feather bed, Ailill watched covertly as her words sunk in, her lowered lashes the perfect length for hiding the windows of her eyes. She felt, strangely, unafraid of the idea of lying with Micah. Or, at least, less afraid than he was; she was the one who would feel pain, after all, not that a bit of pain would change her decision; it could not be worse than anything she had endured thus far. Her fingers closed impulsively against her palm, pressed briefly against the striations of silvery scars there. Pausing at the edge of the bed, so not her own, she reached out to pull him close. He surprised her by sitting down suddenly, pulling her to stand between his knees. When she wrapped her arms about his neck, Micah trembled, and when she bent her head to kiss him, he pulled back, stared at her hard for what seemed an eternity.

"Abby?"

"Aye?"

He froze, shook his head as if to clear his mind. "I, uh, we aren't really strangers, are we?" Meeting his rather confused look with a steady gaze, Ailill's head swayed side to side in negation. She waited, hoping the sudden realization would not change his mind. "I dreamt of you," Micah said quietly. "This feels like deja-vu... like we've already done this."

"Not exactly, Micah. But aye, we have dreamt of one another, as we've already discussed. We, all of us, have such an ability. Does it change things?"

"No." He husked a laugh, a breathless hum that sounded so familiar. "Can I kiss you again?"

Instead of kissing her mouth, as she'd expected, Micah grasped her narrow waist with long fingers and bent forward, placing a tender kiss on each taut nipple. His tongue slid up, slick between her breasts, and he grasped them, nestled his face in the softness of the warm globes, muttering in a whisper.

"You've got the nicest tits." Caressing the smooth rounds, he suckled one, then both, before pulling her face down for a kiss, fingers wound through the silk of her hair; his hands trailed over her back, down her body. "The nicest ass. Never seen anyone more perfect... never." Ailill gasped when he grasped her buttocks, pulled her up to lie beside him. His kisses became suddenly more demanding, her flesh seared wherever his mouth lit, icy where it missed. She moaned softly as his tongue slid down the smooth, taut flesh of her belly, nudged the small hoop at her navel briefly before coming up to her mouth once more.