Page 69 of A Fierce Archer

She lifted a bit when his hand lingered just above her sex. Esme had told her that one way a man prepared a woman for intercourse would be to slide their fingers down the center of her sex.

The anticipation made her squirm. Already, she ached for his touch, the heat pooling in her core uncontainable.

When his fingers touched her sex, Catriona let out a moan. “Yes,” she whispered, encouraging him. “Yes.”

Ewan needed no further encouragement. His hand cupped her sex, one finger pushing through the folds and into her wetness. “Ye are more than ready for me,” he murmured.

When he lifted to climb over her, his gaze met hers. “If ye say stop at any time, I will.”

Catriona couldn’t fathom why she’d wish for him to stop. Instead of a reply, she placed her hands on his hips and guided him between her legs. If the man didn’t hurry, she could not take responsibility for her actions.

Then as he took himself in hand and prepared to enter her, she held her breath. She waited for fear, for terror, but when he took her mouth again, all she could sense, feel and smell was Ewan.

And he was all things beautiful and good in her world. Their bodies came together in a way that was perfect, not with hatred or with intent to hurt.

“I will be gentle,” Ewan said and prodded at her entrance. Once again, Catriona held her breath, then slowly released it, recalling what Esme had said.

“In the first moment, when he is about to join with ye, yer instinct will be to hold yer breath and be still. Do not. Instead, relax yer body and prepare for what will be just wonderous.”

He pushed into her, ever so slowly, the entire time kissing and caressing her.

Truthfully, it was pleasant enough, but not as enjoyable as she’d been led to believe. Once fully seated inside, Ewan hesitated.

“Are ye well?” His gaze met hers. “Catriona?”

“Is this it?” she asked. “I thought it was supposed to be wonderous. It is a tight fit is it not?”

He pressed his lips together. She wondered if it was to keep from laughing. Finally, he cleared his throat. “I will begin to move and I believe ye will find that to yer liking.”

“Oh,” she said then, “oh,” again when Ewan pulled out a bit and moved back inside.

The more he drove in and out of her body, the more she wanted him to continue. Every ounce of her being and every sense went taut with anticipation of whatever it was that floated just beyond her touch.

“Ewan,” Catriona exclaimed and dug her fingers into his bottom. “Oh, my...”

She thought she was prepared for what was to happen. Goodness, Esme has been quite explicit, but there were no words, she now realized, for the elation that occurred.

“Ah!” she cried out when something inside her finally gave way and burst, sending tendrils of heat down her legs and up her stomach. Whatever happened, also sent her reeling, the world disappearing until all she could hear was Ewan’s hard breaths and then his own hoarse cry.

He fell over her, still buried deep inside her. A moment later, he shuddered and she wrapped her arms around his waist, needing him to remain still.

They were both wet with perspiration and gasping for breath. Catriona closed her eyes, memorizing the moment. Mentally, she sorted each sound and scent. The soft breeze that fanned over them, the reverberations of the firewood crackling, barely audible over the heaves of their breathing.

The odor of their bodies was different than before lovemaking. It was to be their scent, she imagined.

Then she ran her hands up Ewan’s back and then down to the swell of his bottom.

He lifted and pulled out of her. Then Ewan looked down at her, his face shadowed. “Was it enjoyable to ye?”

“Yes,” she replied quietly. “I do believe it to have been wonderous.”

“Wonderous?” he repeated the word, a touch of humor in the tone. “I agree.”

When he pulled her over his chest and let out a long sigh, she couldn't help but wonder what he thought at the moment. Did he feel more for her than he’d insinuated? Probably not. According to Esme, lovemaking was a natural thing for men, unlike for most women, for whom it was more of an emotional occurrence.

She knew this, of course. Her sister often told her that even when angry, her husband would try to join with her. Catriona had not understood at that time. But now she figured if she was ever cross with Ewan, making love would be a good way to release emotions.

“Hmph,” she said out loud, then hoped he’d not heard.