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hardened cock jumped, eager to enter her willing
warmth.
    A low growl of frustration escaped him. He’d been trying
to ignore his cock, focusing on the woman beneath him and her reactions. Now
was not the time to search for his own satisfaction.
He was trying to show her something.
    Again, he flicked both nipple and bud. Again, she gasped
and opened more for him. He wasn’t going to be able to resist her body’s mute
entreaty much longer.
    His cock hummed like a high tension wire, heavy and hot
and aching to slide into her wet depths. And he would, he promised himself. Later. First, he had a lesson to teach her.
    Lifting his head, he stroked her breast with his lips,
until only her pebbled nipple remained in his mouth. She moaned, and whispered
an incomprehensible Gaelic entreaty. Her hips lifted and fell, seeking
fulfillment, trying to drive her swollen flesh against his fingers. But his
hand moved with her, riding her, so that her only relief was the teasing flick
of his fingers timed with the flick of his tongue. That only
enflamed her more.
    Her head whipped restlessly from side to side, and her
fingers convulsed in his hair. She began to whimper softly, her cries growing
steadily in volume. His fingers slipped, unable to keep his grip on the pulsing
bud in the flood of eager liquid flowing from her.
    She lifted her hips, seeking to follow up on her brief
advantage. It was the perfect moment.
    Finding the swollen bud again, Dermot pinched it
lightly, just as his teeth closed around her nipple in a love bite.
    She screamed, lifting her hips nearly a foot off of the
bed, and the hot flood of her satisfaction bathed his hand. She held the pose,
her body bent into a quivering arch, for ten long seconds. Then she collapsed.
Tremors continued to ripple through her limp body.
    She blinked slowly, gradually opening her eyes and
focusing on his face. He tried not to look smug, but suspected his masculine
pride still showed upon his face.
    “What did you do to me?” she whispered.
    “Did you like it?”
    “Aye. It’s pudding I am. Hot, happy pudding.”
    Dermot schooled his features to show concern. “But I bit
you. And pinched you.”
    “Did you now ?”
    She was still too far gone in the aftereffects of her
orgasm to understand what he was trying to show her. He’d have to speak more
directly.
    “I broke your law. I harmed you.”
    “Oh and truth, there’s no harm done. Quite
the opposite.”
    “Even though I bit you? And pinched you?
Both of those are painful, aren’t they?”
    She blinked again, marshaling her scattered wits. Then
her eyes widened.
    “I thank you for your teaching. There was no harm done
last night, was there?”
    He smiled, and stroked her sweat dampened cheek. “Quite the opposite.”
    Dermot trailed his fingers around her ear, pushing her
honey gold hair away from her eyes. He hadn’t noticed last night, but it looked
like it would frame her alabaster face in soft curls—once it was brushed, that
is. Right now, it was flattened from where she’d slept on it and streaked with
sweat. The sight made him want to bury his face in her hair, inhaling the scent
of her, and teasing his cheek with a thousand soft caresses. Instead, he ran
his fingers through it, while he studied her face and eyes.
    Wide and clear, her eyes were a peculiar shade midway
between blue and green. He wasn’t certain if they were really blue, and only
colored with a reflection of the emerald green pillow-case she lay on, or if
they were truly so unique. Her nose was small and gently rounded, above dark
red lips swollen with passion.
    He remembered those lips, feathering his cock with
tender kisses as she slowly swallowed him. His cock jumped, aching at the
thought of entering the warm cave of her mouth again. Despite the exhausting
events of last night, just looking at this woman was enough to make him hard
again.
    He trailed a fingertip across her lips, parting their
seam. Slipping his finger inside, he stroked the wet