Beyond the Highland Myst(371)

"God, yes!"

"Did you want me when you saw me in those blue trews?" he pushed. "Did you want me then too?"

"Yes."

"Do you feel the heat when I touch you? Does it hit you like a thunderbolt too?"

"Yes."

He stripped off her thong and rose to his feet. He drank in the sight of her nude body for a long moment before dragging her into his arms.

They both cried out as skin met skin, stunned by the intensity of the contact, sizzling where they touched. He kissed her deeply, his tongue hot and hungry, plundering her mouth. She arched her back, rubbing her breasts against him. When he cupped his hands beneath her bottom, she clasped her hands behind his neck and wrapped her legs tightly around him, so his erection was firmly trapped in the vee of her thighs. She squirmed, wanting him inside her right now, but either he wasn't cooperating or she was too clumsy to angle them into the right position, which, she rued, given her inexperience, was possible. But it doesn't seem that he's being particularly helpful, she thought mulishly, breaking their kiss long enough to look at him. His silvery gaze was wicked… and cockily amused.

"Are you torturing me?"

"My pace, lass. You're the one who said no and wasted days. We might have done this yesterday when you stuffed me into those torturous trews. And later that afternoon. And later that night, and this morning, and—"

When she tried to reply, he kissed her so hard she forgot what she was going to say. He rocked himself against her, mimicking sex, gliding back and forth in the slick vee of her thighs. Millions of tiny nerve endings screamed for more. Well, if he won't, I will. She knew better than most people that forces of nature should not be resisted or subdued. She twisted against him, rubbing herself wantonly, pushing herself to the peak.

As her soft panting became more frantic, Drustan broke the kiss and looked at her. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes brilliant and wild, her lips kiss-bruised and parted.

"That's it, lass, take your pleasure." He was riveted by her unabashed hunger for him; she was making him hotter and harder with every insistent thrust of her hips. If he wasn't careful, he'd spill without ever entering her. He doubted a woman had ever desired him so intensely.

She whimpered as she came, she purred, she rubbed against him like a love-starved kitten.

"Yes," he breathed, flooded with purely male, possessive triumph. When her shudders subsided and she relaxed against him, he lowered her to the ground on his plaid, then sat back on his knees and gazed at her for a long moment. Long enough that she began to squirm, and it wrought havoc upon his fleeting control. She arched her back, raising her breasts toward him, her nipples dark berries, begging to be suckled.

"Touch me," she whispered.

"Och, lass, I'll touch you," he promised. He nudged her legs wider, then drank in the sight of her, lying in wait for him, her full breasts swollen from his kisses, her thighs open and slick with her desire.

He ran his hand up the inside of her thighs, across her woman's wetness, then down the other leg. Once, twice, and a half dozen times lingering between her thighs, flicking her sensitive nub, until she was arching her hips up from the plaid.

"I'm going to toop you as you've naught been tooped before, lass."

Gwen was quite certain of that, having never been tooped before. "Promises, promises, MacKeltar," she provoked. "A woman could die of old age before you got around to it."

His eyes flew wide in surprise, then he laughed, a husky laugh full of dark eroticism.

Finally, she purred, when, shoulder muscles bunching sleekly, he covered her body with his.

"Have you no sense at all, that you would provoke me? I'm twice your size, you know," he murmured against her ear.

"So show me something I don't already know." She gasped, when he nipped her earlobe.

"Like this?" he asked, shifting himself between her thighs. "Or like this?" He rubbed the head of his cock back and forth and back again in her slick folds.

Gwen melted as he spoke to her then in a language she'd never heard but knew was tribute from the husky admiration in his voice. The strange accents made her wild as he purred compliments against her heated skin. She half-wondered if he was ensorcelling her, because the more he spoke in his foreign accents, the hotter she got. Or perhaps it was the smoky deep voice and the way his hands moved over every inch of her body as if memorizing the subtleties of each plane and hollow. He devoted lavish attention to her breasts, squeezing them, plumping and fondling them until she was nearly delirious with need, hovering at the brink of another orgasm.

He braced himself on his forearms and suckled each nipple, moving his head back and forth, chafing her with his shadow beard, and just when she thought one couldn't take the erotic teasing anymore, he would turn his attention to the other. He kissed her breasts, the sides of her breasts, the soft warm place beneath them, pushed them together and kissed the plump cleavage, dragging his tongue roughly between them, then returned to her hard nipples and took them alternately with his teeth. Nipping and suckling and drawing her into his mouth. She nearly screamed from the exquisite pleasure of it.