My Brave Highlander(121)

"Get up for a moment," he murmured against her lips, his hands on her waist. She did, then he slid her petticoats up to her knees and dragged her forward into a different position, straddling his lap. What a wanton and scandalous position. A shockingly enticing position. She scooted closer, feeling his hardened shaft through their clothing.

He dug beneath her smock and petticoats, then slid his hot, calloused hands over her knees and up the outside of her thighs all while his mouth ate at hers.

He moaned. "You are temptation itself."

She tugged again at the leather ties on his trews, loosening them. Gathering her courage and hoping he wouldn't stop her this time, she slipped her hand inside. When she touched his heated, hard flesh, his breath hissed between his teeth.

Wrapping her fingers around his shaft, she squeezed. How silky yet hard as stone he felt.

He groaned. "Are you trying to make me lose control?"

"Aye."

"Not before you do." His fingers stole between her legs and he gently parted her sex lips. Sliding one finger between, he found her moisture and spread it, circling some incredibly sensitive and excited part of her.

"Oh, Dirk," she gasped. He knew the exact magical spot to caress and drive her mad with lust.

"Damn, you feel good," he growled.

She arched her back, trying to push herself closer to him. With his other arm around her low back he drew her closer and stroked her delicate flesh with his wet fingers. Oh heavens, he made her yearn. She wiggled her hips, while squeezing and tugging at his rigid shaft, trying to show him what she wanted.

"Saints, lass!" he muttered behind clenched teeth, then surprised her by lifting her and laying her back onto the hard, wooden floor.

"Aye, take me." She didn't care how or where, she simply wanted him now.

He shoved her skirts higher, spread her legs and moved down as if to examine her most secret place in the candlelight.

"What are you—?"

But then he touched her with his… tongue?

"Oh saints! Dirk? What—?" She tried to protest, but her words turned to moans. All she knew was that he was kissing and licking her in a most scandalous spot, sliding his hot, wet tongue along her nether lips and between. Her arousal flamed up, hot chills covering her, capturing her breath, making her twist and yearn for more.

She heard herself cry out and tried to stop, biting her finger. Her back arched and her hips rocked against him, as he held them in a fierce grip and devoured her.

Oh, what on earth was he doing, sliding his tongue into her? He moaned as if he might enjoy it as much as she did. She had never known a wicked act or a carnal pleasure like this existed. Oh heavens, his tongue flicked at that special spot, the pinpoint of sensation that was near too intense to bear. The many sharp tingles coalesced and spiraled faster, then an explosive pleasure crashed into her, consuming her for several long seconds.

When next she became aware, gasping for breath, her whole body buzzing as if it had been struck by lightning, she felt she was flying. But it was only that Dirk lifted her and set her on his lap again, her legs still spread. She held on around his neck and dropped her head to his shoulder, trying to breathe and make sense of these astonishing sensations. Certainly, he'd given her the climax before, le petite mort, but each time the intensity of it surprised her. Especially this time. Somehow he'd near driven her out of her mind with arousal and sexual pleasure.

"Mmm," he growled against her ear. "You taste sweet, Isobel."

"You are mad to… lick me in such a place."

He gave a little chuckle-moan. "Call me a madman then, but I believe I'll have you for dessert every night."

She trembled at the mere thought of such a sensual treat every night.

"Are you ready for me?" He drew her upward and positioned his erection just beneath her. The velvety tip teased her tender flesh, and she suddenly hungered to feel him deep inside.

"Aye. Now." Abruptly she pushed downward onto him and he jerked, thrusting into her an inch or two. She gasped, having forgotten how his size was excessive, but each second felt better than the last. He moved, sliding in and out shallowly, but gradually driving deeper each time. His jaw clenched hard and he gazed into her eyes with awe and dark passion. He was a fiery one. She wiggled her hips, squeezing him as she lowered herself onto him. Deeper and deeper he slid.

He growled as he reached her depths. He held himself still there, at that perfect spot and stared into her eyes while placing wee sweet kisses on her lips.

The muscles within her body fluttered, caressing his hard length.

He ground out a Gaelic curse, withdrew a bit and thrust. Abruptly he shoved himself from the chair and, with an arm beneath her derriere, carried her across the room.