She was coming apart, the noises she made muffled by the cushioned walls. Cameron went on and on, and Ainsley couldn’t see or hear or breathe. The only thing in the world was Cameron’s mouth on her, the bulk of his warmth so close to her, the dark fire spreading through her.
“Cam, please!”
Ainsley didn’t know what she begged for, she only knew she wanted him against her, with her, inside her. Always.
Cameron raised his head and dabbed his lips with his fingers. “Sweet Ainsley. Has no one ever done that either?”
She shook her head, beyond speech.
“All men are fools,” he said. “To pass you by when they could have this.” Cameron stroked his fingers through the curls between her legs. “You’re sweet and wet for me, my Ainsley. Wet and ready.”
He pulled aside the folds of his kilt, and no, he wore nothing beneath it. Only him, his shaft long and dark.
The drapes of the plaid got in Ainsley’s way, but she easily found him. She smiled as she closed her hand around him, not hiding her pleasure at how hot and hard and so very big he was. Cameron was a large man, large all the way down.
Cameron groaned as Ainsley squeezed, her tightly controlled man coming undone for her. He studied her with half-closed eyes, his cheekbones flushed. Enjoying what she did to him, and letting himself enjoy it.
“You are quite . . . long,” she said. “Have you ever measured it?”
A glint flashed in Cameron’s eyes. “No.”
“I must fetch a tape measure then.”
Cameron seized her wrist in an impossibly strong grip. “You are not going anywhere or fetching anything. Not now.”
He removed her hand from him and drew her up off the seat.
The wool of his kilt prickled her as Cameron moved between her thighs. His tip touched her opening, and Ainsley ached with need. Her body wanted to squeeze, wanted to pull him in, to have him all the way.
“Not too fast, love,” Cameron said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Ainsley shook her head. She was past caring, past remembering what pain was. “I’m ready.” She’d been ready for six years.
“Stop me if I hurt you. Promise me.”
His eyes held anguish mixed with need, and Ainsley realized that her answer was very, very important to him.
She nodded. “I promise.”
Cameron relaxed, as though Ainsley had said the right thing. He cradled her in his strong arms her, held her gaze with his, and slid inside.
I belong here.
I belong inside this beautiful woman who tastes like dreams.
Cameron’s thoughts scattered, and all he could feel was Ainsley, her heat and her scent. Deeper, deeper into her. Ainsley, I need you.
His breath came fast, the noises in his throat hoarse, Cameron who never lost control.
Cameron couldn’t afford to lose control, never, ever. But Ainsley was stealing him. She was tight, so damn tight, and he was sliding into her so deep he never wanted to come out.
He kissed her throat, feeling her groans with his lips. He kissed her face, up under her hair. Ainsley was making beautiful noises, and Cameron kissed her throat again. He felt the slight scrape of her fingernails on his back, Ainsley not even knowing she scratched him.
“Ainsley.” Saying her name was joy.
Cameron couldn’t move inside her much in this position, but their bodies were tight against each other’s, the feeling raw. Later, he’d take her on cushions on the floor of her chamber, and then he’d be able to move. Stroking into and out of beautiful Ainsley. The thought excited him beyond measure.
But right now was good too. Ainsley touched his face, looking straight into his eyes with her beautiful gray ones. She was around him, part of him, and he was part of her.
Ainsley couldn’t believe what she was feeling. Cameron was thick and firm inside her, spreading her, yet there was no pain, only rightness. He held her so gently, but his body had such power that it undid her.
If she’d known there would be this joy, six years ago, Ainsley would not have waited so long. “I’d have found you,” she heard herself saying. “Chased you through London like a fool, and begged you to do this.”
Cameron’s smile was hot. “Wicked, wicked lady. I’ll give you everything you want, do anything to you. All you have to do is ask.”
He moved inside her, and Ainsley gave in to the bright, hard feeling. “Would you do this for me?” She moaned as he sent forth another burning thrust. “Any time I wanted? If I went to Paris with you?”
“Hell, yes.” His voice was dark. “Again, and again, every damned night. I know pleasure, Ainsley, and I’ll show you every bit you ever dreamed of.”
She sucked in a breath as he pressed even tighter into her, spreading her so wide. “This seems adequate.”
“There’s so, so much more, Ainsley, love.” He cupped her head in his large hand, his breath tangling with hers. “So much more. But—God—now. You’re beautiful. My Ainsley. Always mine.”
Cameron felt the finish coming—too soon, too damned, damned soon. But Ainsley was squeezing him hard, sending little pulses of pleasure up and down his cock. Nature, damnably controlling, wanted him to bury his seed deep inside her. Now.
“No.” He fought it. No, no, no, I don’t want to stop. I never want to stop.
“Cameron.” It was a whispered groan. “Cam, I feel so good. What do I . . .” Words vanished as Ainsley’s climax took her, her sweet feminine sounds undoing him.
Cameron let out a savage growl. He lowered Ainsley quickly to the seat and slid out of her, his c**k protesting all the way. He yanked a handkerchief from the coat behind him, wrapped it around his hardness, and spilled his seed into the innocent cloth.
Ainsley couldn’t catch her breath. She lay limply against the cushions, clutching the lip of the seat so she wouldn’t slide off.
Cameron remained unmoving on the carpeted floor, head bowed, handkerchief pressed to himself, his chest swiftly rising and falling.
“Cameron, are you all right?”
He raised his head and gave her a wide, hot smile. Cameron rose over her, fists on either side of her, caging her on the seat.
“Am I all right?” His Highland accent rang through. “Of course I’m all right, lass. I’m better than I’ve ever been.”
“But you—”
“Pulled out of ye? Aye, so I won’t give ye a babe.”
“Oh. Yes.” Ainsley wasn’t certain whether she felt grateful or disappointed. “It was—”