Editor's Choice Volume I - Slow summer Kisses, Kilts & kraken, Negotiating point by Giordano Adrienne Spencer Pape Cindy Stacey Shannon Page B
Tags: Contemporain
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reminding him that she was likely new to this endeavor.
“We should stop.” It might kill him, but he would. A lady deserved more from her first time than a rushed coupling on a stone floor.
“Mmm. We should stop long enough to go inside, at least.” Her soft laugh caressed his ear. “I have French letters in my medical bag and there’s a bed in the infirmary.”
“Lord bless clever women.” He hadn’t even thought about protection—four years of celibacy would do that to a man. Magnus had her halfway to the watchtower stairs before she stopped laughing. They snuck down the servant stairs of the castle like naughty children. Once they locked the door of the infirmary behind them, Magnus lit a gas lamp and they fell together on the bed whooping with laughter. “You make me feel like a boy.”
“Now that’s where we differ.” She disentangled herself from his arms and fetched her bag from her desk, rooting through it to come up with a handful of paper envelopes. “You make me feel all grown up.”
Perhaps she wasn’t as inexperienced as he’d led himself to believe. There was no hesitation in her gaze as she stood before him and let her wrapper and her nightgown drop to the floor.
His breath caught in his chest. “You’re beautiful, but of course you know that.” Her creamy skin glowed, its speckling of freckles a dusting of gold in the low lamplight, complimenting the burnished copper of her hair. Eve, come to life, or maybe Venus, rising from the sea.
She shook her head, her curls bouncing, but made no coy move to cover herself. “No. But thank you for making me feel as if I am.”
He couldn’t let her be naked all alone. Magnus stood and unbuckled his kilt, knowing his long shirt still covered him to midthigh. “You’ve already seen all I have to offer.”
Geneva chuckled again. “Not like this.” Her gaze dropped to where the fabric of his shirt tented outward.
“I should hope not.” Even in his dreams, he’d noticed her, with her cool hands and angel’s voice. Hoping she wouldn’t change her mind once she laid eyes on him, he yanked his shirt off over his head.
“Ah, Magnus, you’re the beautiful one.” She reached out a hand and ran it over the muscles of his chest, tangling her fingers in the coarse whorls of hair. Then she leaned forward and kissed one of his newest scars, one she’d tended, now little more than a pink line on his tanned skin.
He’d never kissed a lass as tall as Geneva, where he only had to bend his neck, not stoop his whole body over. He pulled her close, marveling at how perfectly they fit. Somehow, one of them drew the other down onto the bed, where they indulged themselves, kissing and exploring each other until they both trembled with need. Magnus took his time with her breasts, full, high, with puckered copper nipples. She clenched her fingers in his hair, holding him to her while her hips lifted restlessly.
“Sweet.” He blew a breath over one peak, damp from his mouth, and shifted to suckle the other. With his hand, he found the wet heat between her legs, and traced his fingers along her folds. Aye, she was ready. He sucked hard on her nipple and pressed a fingertip against the swollen bud of her clitoris.
“Magnus!” She shattered against his hand, and he slid two fingers inside her at the moment of her climax. A touch of resistance blocked his way for a brief moment before he felt it give, and she cried out again, her channel still pulsing as another crisis rolled through it. She was almost unbearably tight—how had he gotten the idea that she was experienced?
Christ, she had been a virgin. The poor woman would be sore in the morning. He ought to stop now, before he hurt her further, but he wasn’t that good a man. Instead, he wiped his damp fingers on the sheet and tied on the condom, hoping he didn’t tear it as his hand trembled. Once it was in place, he moved over her, kissing her deeply, letting the tip of him graze her tender
“We should stop.” It might kill him, but he would. A lady deserved more from her first time than a rushed coupling on a stone floor.
“Mmm. We should stop long enough to go inside, at least.” Her soft laugh caressed his ear. “I have French letters in my medical bag and there’s a bed in the infirmary.”
“Lord bless clever women.” He hadn’t even thought about protection—four years of celibacy would do that to a man. Magnus had her halfway to the watchtower stairs before she stopped laughing. They snuck down the servant stairs of the castle like naughty children. Once they locked the door of the infirmary behind them, Magnus lit a gas lamp and they fell together on the bed whooping with laughter. “You make me feel like a boy.”
“Now that’s where we differ.” She disentangled herself from his arms and fetched her bag from her desk, rooting through it to come up with a handful of paper envelopes. “You make me feel all grown up.”
Perhaps she wasn’t as inexperienced as he’d led himself to believe. There was no hesitation in her gaze as she stood before him and let her wrapper and her nightgown drop to the floor.
His breath caught in his chest. “You’re beautiful, but of course you know that.” Her creamy skin glowed, its speckling of freckles a dusting of gold in the low lamplight, complimenting the burnished copper of her hair. Eve, come to life, or maybe Venus, rising from the sea.
She shook her head, her curls bouncing, but made no coy move to cover herself. “No. But thank you for making me feel as if I am.”
He couldn’t let her be naked all alone. Magnus stood and unbuckled his kilt, knowing his long shirt still covered him to midthigh. “You’ve already seen all I have to offer.”
Geneva chuckled again. “Not like this.” Her gaze dropped to where the fabric of his shirt tented outward.
“I should hope not.” Even in his dreams, he’d noticed her, with her cool hands and angel’s voice. Hoping she wouldn’t change her mind once she laid eyes on him, he yanked his shirt off over his head.
“Ah, Magnus, you’re the beautiful one.” She reached out a hand and ran it over the muscles of his chest, tangling her fingers in the coarse whorls of hair. Then she leaned forward and kissed one of his newest scars, one she’d tended, now little more than a pink line on his tanned skin.
He’d never kissed a lass as tall as Geneva, where he only had to bend his neck, not stoop his whole body over. He pulled her close, marveling at how perfectly they fit. Somehow, one of them drew the other down onto the bed, where they indulged themselves, kissing and exploring each other until they both trembled with need. Magnus took his time with her breasts, full, high, with puckered copper nipples. She clenched her fingers in his hair, holding him to her while her hips lifted restlessly.
“Sweet.” He blew a breath over one peak, damp from his mouth, and shifted to suckle the other. With his hand, he found the wet heat between her legs, and traced his fingers along her folds. Aye, she was ready. He sucked hard on her nipple and pressed a fingertip against the swollen bud of her clitoris.
“Magnus!” She shattered against his hand, and he slid two fingers inside her at the moment of her climax. A touch of resistance blocked his way for a brief moment before he felt it give, and she cried out again, her channel still pulsing as another crisis rolled through it. She was almost unbearably tight—how had he gotten the idea that she was experienced?
Christ, she had been a virgin. The poor woman would be sore in the morning. He ought to stop now, before he hurt her further, but he wasn’t that good a man. Instead, he wiped his damp fingers on the sheet and tied on the condom, hoping he didn’t tear it as his hand trembled. Once it was in place, he moved over her, kissing her deeply, letting the tip of him graze her tender
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