She leaned over him, the soft mounds of her chest slid over his, her fingers dug into his shoulders, and she reached higher. Simon kept the upward-thrusting tilt of his hips, giving more than he thought possible. Her breath hitched and when her orgasm crashed over her, he captured her lips to help keep her silent, knowing her pleasure would reach even higher. She spasmed, gripping him hard until her rocking body started to lax.
Unable to take more, Simon twisted her under him, positioning her back on the blankets. He cradled her hips and kept as much of his weight off her to avoid pushing her into the hard floor.
She snaked a leg over his hips and grasped his ass. “Don’t hold back,” she pleaded. “I won’t break.”
With her command, he drove harder, felt her surrender when his body tightened, and his release took over. All thought disappeared.
* * * *
A long time passed before either of them moved. Helen marveled in the weight of his body holding her firmly on the floor. She didn’t even mind the pebble that wedged itself between her shoulder blade and her spinal column. Every limb in her body melted like butter in a flame. She couldn’t remember a time she’d felt so safe, so wanted. So deliciously used and most definitely bruised. She’d wear the marks with a cat-sized grin and picture this moment for the rest of her life.
Considering her previous intimacies could be counted on a few fingers, and none of them worth remembering, Simon could easily play the role of ‘world’s finest’ in her eyes.
“I’m crushing you.”
“Yeah, but it’s nice.” And it was, their bodies still attached and slick.
He moved to his side but kept her gathered to him. It was as if he wanted to leave the warm, inviting place between her legs either. The offending pebble dislodged and fell away.
“Did I hurt you, lass?”
She nodded with a little laugh.
Simon grew serious and ran his hand over her shoulder.
“It’s okay,” she told him. “Very, very okay.”
He kissed her nose and settled. “I shouldn’t have taken you here.”
“Well, your room would have been off limits. The boys invaded your space last night to make room for one of your neighbors.”
In fact, the room she’d been given was taken too and she and Amber were rooming together. The massive Keep was getting tight.
“I see. Mayhap I’ll have a mattress brought up here.”
She liked the thought but questioned the wisdom of spending every night in Simon’s arms. After some mental math, she knew the timing was off for her to get pregnant, but that would change in less than a week. Birth control wasn’t necessary in her sexless life back home, and it wasn’t available here.
“I’m guessing that affairs aren’t smiled upon in these times.”
“Nay. Not with ladies of your standing.”
She laughed. “I’m not a lady of any standing.”
Simon placed a finger over her lips. “Yes you are, Helen. I’ll not have anyone say or treat you otherwise.”
She wrapped her leg around his hips and felt him start to harden inside her. “I noticed something.”
He linked her knee with his hand and caressed the sensitive flesh of her thigh. “What might that be?”
“I noticed that ever since we came back here, to this time, you have a little more burr in your speech, a lot more sixteenth century language rolling off your tongue.”
“Women like the accent. Makes them weep with desire.”
Oh, how he knew exactly what to say.
“Do you use your talents often, Lord Simon?”
Helen felt his hand slide between their joined bodies. His nimble fingers found the perfect spot of pleasure and began to move.
“I practiced my talents enough in the past so I can please you.”
Her body responded to his caress.
But what happens when I leave? He’ll find someone else to practice on.
Helen forced the thoughts of Simon in the arms of another woman out of her head and lived in the now.
And right now felt pretty damn good.
* * * *
Simon’s hunger drove them from their temporary haven. When they resurfaced, the first one to see them was Myra. With one look, she knew. As much as Helen thought herself an adult, she felt heat burn her cheeks and her feet fidgeted with the need to flee.
“My father is searching for you.” She directed at Simon. “And Amber is asking where you spent the night.” Myra’s brows shot up, and she reached over and straightened the nightgown Helen wore. The breakfast meal time had passed, and from the sounds emitting from below, the day had commenced.
And I’m wearing a nightgown. Helen wanted to cringe. It was one thing to be intimate with Simon, quite another to announce it to the world. The MacCoinnich clan was large enough to be a small world.
Simon kept a possessive arm around Helen’s waist and didn’t answer Myra’s concerns.
Wearing a kilt Simon had tucked into a hidden place in the wall of their private turret, he at least looked half dressed.
“Helen fell asleep upstairs. I’m escorting her to her room.”
Myra, a sixteenth century lady, all prim and proper, wearing her floor length gown with long sleeves and a neckline that didn’t plunge to even a freckle on her chest, burst out in a very broad grin. “Right,” was all she said.
“I should get dressed.” Helen moved out of Simon’s grip.
“I’ll make sure Helen gets to her room,” Myra told Simon. “The men are in need of information only you can provide.”
Simon glanced into Helen’s eyes, asking if it was okay for him to abandon her.
“I’m good. You go.”
He brushed a knuckle to the side of her jaw and winked at Myra as he walked beyond them and down the hall.
The tease didn’t even stop by his room for a shirt. He jogged down the hall and rounded the corner to the stairs. Once he was out of sight, Helen diverted her gaze to Myra who was watching her like a cat who’d trapped a mouse.
“What?” Helen asked.
“Nothing.”
Both of them turned into Amber’s room without another word and stepped inside.
“There you are. I was worried.” Amber was out of bed and dressed with the cloak draped over her shoulders.
And she smiled. Helen couldn’t recall if she’d ever really seen Amber smiling as she was doing now. Certainly not with this radiant grin lighting up her eyes, her face.
“You’re…you’re smiling.”