I met his look terrified.
“Lass, ye gotta breathe.”
“I can’t!” But even as I said it, I realized his hand wasn’t actually squashing me. Merely holding me in place. It was my fear stilling my breath. I drew a slow unsteady breath then another.
“Good.” He straightened. “More.”
I continued breathing those I was shaking so hard that a metal cup on the table had begun to clatter.
“Ugh.” He groaned in frustration. I felt his foot swing next to mine and push it aside. Then the other along my other foot so they were wide apart while I was bent over the table.
I knew all my most vulnerable parts were open for his access. I started drawing short quaking breaths.
“Now, listen to me. Hear what I’m saying to ye, Lass.”
I closed my eyes trying to focus on his voice to keep from passing out. I couldn’t throw the pot at him if I was unconscious.
I mentally calculated the distance from my shoulder to that pot and knew it was close. But I’ll be able to reach it while he’s distracted.
Which meant I’d have to let him inside me. Even I knew that much.
But the thought of him ripping me apart was daunting.
“I’m going to touch ye.” He was telling me. And I expected rough hands hurting me below. Instead. I felt his touch on my hair. Gathering it up and moving it over one shoulder along the table. The touch nearly gentle.
The hand holding me down remained where it was. Giving just enough pressure I couldn’t lurch up and flee.
He knows what I’m about.
The other trailed from my hair down the back of my neck and followed the curve along the top of my shoulder and down the outer edge of my arm which was flat back to my side.
The touch was strange. Leaving a trail of goosebumps and heating my skin.
I registered that I could feel his strong legs molding the back of mine and his pelvis was pressed into my behind with his member hardening there.
I felt my heart beginning to thrum wildly again but took those slow breaths. Focusing on the light touch which had returned to the top of my shoulder to caress over my back. Tracing the swell of my shoulder blade and down the curve at my lower back and around the plumpness of my hip to slide between us and mold the lower curve of my ass.
“Ye ’ave a sweet little body.” He remarked.
I turned my head to stare at the pot. Fixating on it. Thinking that putting all my attention on it would draw me from this moment.
But his hand on the outside of my thigh was drawing my attention as it wrapped around the front of my knee and began tracing up the inside of my thigh which shivered in response.
Was that fear or something else?
“I’m going to touch your softness now.” He warned.
I thought I knew what he meant but suddenly feeling the brush of his fingers rubbing my lower lips. I lurched forward into the table, slamming my thighs into it and sloshing some of the stew along the wood.
Don’t do that. I need the hot fluid in the pot to throw it at him.
Without getting it on me, hopefully.
The idea of spilling the scalding liquid on my bare skin was dreadful.
Oh, no. Suddenly his fingers began to massage apart my opening and I felt his finger ease into me. As it had before but more tenderly this time.
“Please, don’t!” I reflexively tried to lurch up.
But he offered slightly more weight on his palm and planted me back to the table.
I whooshed out some air on the impact and he immediately loosened the pressure but wouldn’t remove his hand.
The sensation of his finger inside me was unlike anything before. I could feel my body stretching around as he swirled it in slowly. Finding the unique crevices inside me and rubbing along each until one made me gasp.
“Do you feel that?” He rubbed it again. “That is the pleasure you can have, if ye’re a good ’un.”
My breath shivered as it entered me.
He rubbed more roughly along the spot that was making me lean forward and slightly back against his hand.
What the hell was I doing?
“Uh, uh.” I moaned as something tightened inside me. Making my whole body feel icy cold. Then heat blew up from my core and bloomed through me. Making my whole body shiver.
My thighs vibrated against his as they flexed with small spasms.
“Now ye’re ready for me, Lass.” He murmured and I felt him leaning back and withdrawing his hand.
“No.” I whispered.
“Yes. It’s time.”