He caught her up against him before she got a clear look at his body, his mouth seeking hers out to press a demanding kiss against it. Passion burned brightly inside him, which his kiss reflected. He captured the back of her head in one large grip, holding her captive while his mouth pillaged hers. His tongue thrust deeply inside, stroking along hers, and her passage begged for the same attention. She felt empty again, and this time the need did not build slowly. It burst into flames that tormented her as much as they pleased her. Jemma reached for his shoulders, her hands seeking out the warm skin she had longed to feel against her own.

He swept her off her feet and carried her toward his bed, the laird’s bed, and that sent a shiver of dark possessiveness through her.

“Did you bring Anyon here?”

He laid her down on the heather-scented sheet, one hand lifting her hair up and out of the way so that it would not become trapped by her back.

“Nae.”

His voice was gruff, and it was darker in the bed with only a teasing flicker of candlelight making its way to them. That only heightened her senses once more. She heard tiny sounds, such as her own heartbeat. She lifted one hand to press it against his chest. Beneath her fingers she felt the steady beating of his heart, and her lips rose into a smile.

“Exactly, lass, we are nae so different when all of the trappings of this world are taken off us. Here, our bodies fit together very nicely.”

“We’ve yet to see about how well you will fit.”

“Ye’re the boldest virgin I’ve ever heard of.”

She settled against the sheet and felt him rising above her. He remained on his side, lying next to her, but she felt small and petite compared to his harder and larger form.

“Or did I build a desire in ye for more of the pleasure that I gave ye the last time we were in a bed together?”

His voice was husky but playful. “I believe the word you used was trust.”

He reached out and trailed his fingers over the mound of one breast. She shivered as pleasure spread out from that touch.

“It is something I value greatly, lass.” He gently cupped her breast, forming his hand around the tender globe. Her nipple drew tight until the top was a hard pebble that eagerly anticipated his kiss. “Something that I plan to put to good use tonight.”

“I suppose that I am hoping that is so.”

He tilted his head, raising his attention up to her face. “Ye question that? Why? I know that ye were pleasured the last time I touched ye.”

His pride was slightly wounded; she heard it in his voice.

“You did, but I believe you have something else planned for this evening that I have never experienced, so the only thing I may say is that I hope it is so. But I seem to recall that doing this pleased you.” Reaching for his cock, she closed her hand around it. The flesh was silken soft, but the staff itself hard. He drew in a stiff breath, his expression becoming strained. Jemma moved her hand to the top of his shaft to where a thick crown circled the head. She touched it gently, feeling it and listening to the sounds of his breathing.

“Ye have a wickedly clever hand, lass.”

“Ah, does that mean that my actions meet with your approval . . . my lord and husband?” She offered up her last few words as a test. There were plenty of men who liked to hear such from their wives; some who demanded it.

Gordon opened his eyes. “Leave that bit of expected speech for when there are others about to hear ye, lass. That has never been my way with ye when we’re in private, but I can understand ye wondering about it.”

“I see. Aren’t you afeared that I will become bold if you do not keep me in my place?”

He flashed her a wide smile that was full of mischief. “I believe I’m dreading the fact that ye might be meek, madam. There is something that I fear. Truly I do.”

“We could not suffer such, not fear from the Laird Barras himself.” She moved her hand back down to the base of his cock, watching his face to see what he did in response.

He made a soft sound beneath his breath, his eyes narrowing to mere slits. “I’m suffering, lass, but ’tis a pleasant sort of suffering.”

She moved her hand up and down his shaft, gaining a sort of rhythm. He growled softly, rolling slightly more onto his back to offer her access to his length. Apparently his cock was as sensitive as her clitoris. Her gaze moved to it. The head was swollen and crowned with a small slit that held a drop of fluid. Bringing her hand back up to the top, she ran her thumb over that slit, her skin slipping easily across it. Another moan rumbled up from his chest, but it was not nearly as hungry or passionate as he had driven her to.

Of course, he had been using his mouth on her, too . . .

Before she considered the idea any further, Jemma leaned down and opened her mouth and licked the head of his cock.

“Sweet virgin’s tits!” His huge body jerked, bouncing on the bed and pulling his cock from her grasp.

“Gordon . . . such words will see you in the stocks.”

He snarled while glaring at her. Jemma rolled up until she was poised on her knees in the middle of the bed. “Didn’t you like that? I enjoyed it when you used . . .”

“When I sucked on yer clitoris, aye, I recall it well.”

His cock looked more swollen now, the head ruby red. “Men don’t enjoy the same?”

He laughed, low and deep. “They do, lass, but I don’t trust my control to last if ye took to Frenching me. I’d likely spill my seed.”

There was a tone in his voice that told her he found the idea very appealing. Her pride latched on to it, craving an opportunity to be the one commanding his pleasure.

“I’ve heard that men can spill more than one portion of seed in a night.”

He stiffened, his eyes filling with bright hunger. “Aye, that’s a truth.”

“Then I do not see any reason for you to argue against my Frenching you, unless you were not sincere in your claim that you have no care for a submissive bride behind closed doors.”

“That word is nearly enough to unman me, coming from yer lips, lass.”

But not enough? She grabbed the challenge and stretched out toward him on all fours, walking her hands across the surface of the bed until she lowered herself onto her stomach. The candles turned his skin crimson, and she used both her hands to cup the sac hanging below his member.

“Since we are newlywed, I believe I should confess that I have never been satisfied with being nearly good enough at anything, Gordon.” She stroked her fingers up the soft skin encasing his cock, lightly teasing it as he had done with her sex.

“I’ve always admired those who seek excellence, lass.”

His breath was becoming rough. Closing her hand around his thickness, she leaned forward and trailed her tongue over the top of it again. She felt him shiver. The little response fanned the flames of her determination. She licked his cock again, this time with more than just the very tip of her tongue. She leaned in closer and allowed her mouth to open wider so that more of her tongue connected with his cock. Fluid had returned to the slit, and it tasted slightly salty when she ran her tongue over it. She could hear him breathing roughly, but it wasn’t anywhere near the same mindless condition he had reduced her to.

Lifting her head, she looked up at his face. “Tell me how to French you.” He snorted at her request. “Why not tell me? I don’t know because bed sport was something I expected to learn from my husband, not from the local light skirts.”

His hand grasped the back of her head, and his lips thinned into an expression that was almost harsh until she recalled how tight her own emotions had been stretched when he was sucking her.

Is he on that edge?

“Open yer mouth and suck some of my length inside.”

She swallowed hard and shivered. Excitement brewed once again in her belly. It was strange how hearing the words made her quiver with anticipation. Her hands stroked his member, drawing another snort from him.

“And do that with yer hands.”

She looked back down at his cock and opened her mouth. She had already tasted him so there was no hesitation in her. Relaxing her jaw, she took the head between her lips while her hands played up and down the portion that was still outside her mouth. His hand tightened on her hair, and she heard his breathing become small pants. His hips thrust toward her mouth, driving his cock deeper and then withdrawing in shallow thrusts.

He groaned. Low and deep, it was a sound that confirmed he was as flooded with pleasure as she had been. That knowledge sent a flicker of heat through her clitoris. But she wasn’t ready to allow him to reverse their roles yet. She allowed more of his cock to penetrate her mouth while her hands closed around his cock in an imitation of her passage clasping the entire length. He snarled something beneath his breath, his hips quickening their pace before the fingers in her hair tightened and his hips drove his cock into her mouth in a hard motion. She felt the warm spurt of his seed bathe her tongue and flood her mouth. His body shook while he let out a savage-sounding moan.

He pulled her head away from his cock, but she continued to stroke it with delicate touches while he drew in rough, rapid breaths. His face was drawn into a hard expression, but he opened his eyes and she witnessed the pleasure shimmering in them. His lips suddenly parted to display a smile at her. The expression, full of promise, sent another ripple of intense excitement through her being.

“One good Frenching deserves another, woman.”

He hooked an arm beneath her waist and flipped her onto her back in one powerful motion. The amount of strength the man had was frightening, but he controlled it expertly. The bed shook beneath her back, and Gordon lunged right over her to come up between her legs. He slid his hands up the insides of her thighs, sending pleasure through her, and then pressed her legs wide. He did it with just enough strength to allow her to feel like he was indeed reversing their roles. His hands held her thighs wide to expose her sex while he raised his head up to look at her stunned face.