Page 46 of Deception of a Highlander

“Ye dinna belong to me, Mariel.” His words were choked with the yearning he’d fought too long to deny.

Her eyes flashed with hurt. “I want to,” she whispered.

There it was again, the offer to become his, the permission to take what he wanted. And this time, he couldn’t bring himself to say no.

His fingers tangled in her hair, and his mouth came down upon hers before he changed his mind—before he talked himself out of it again.

The intoxicating scent of rose enveloped him and drove him to the brink of madness. He grasped her slender arms and pulled her from the floor into his lap.

Her long legs straddled his hips as she sank against him, pressing into his cock. He caught her face with his hands and dragged his mouth to the softness of her lips.

With a breathy moan, her lips opened ever so slightly, a sample of what he craved.

The flick of her tongue against his sent a jolt of desire through him. He tugged her head back farther, forcing her mouth open to accept the full extent of his desire. His tongue swept aggressively into her sweet warmth as he spiraled the kiss to a place from which there was no return.

Mariel’s hips rolled against his swollen cock, and she met the hungry thrust of his tongue with her seductive parry. With one hand still holding her in place by the hair, his other hand cupped the weight of her breast. Her flesh was like silk beneath his hands—supple, firm silk. She arched her back toward his touch until bosom strained against the low cut of her night rail.

The flimsy fabric shoved easily out of his way, and the firelight played across the smooth expanse of her taut skin. This time, there was no abrupt end to his observation, no untimely weighing in of conscience. This time, she would be his.

Her breasts were full and round, absolute perfection. A small pink nipple hardened in the soft light, stretching toward the warmth of his mouth.

Kieran lowered his head and flicked his tongue over the tip of the right bud. Her sharp intake of breath echoed off the stone walls, encouraging him. He glanced up and circled the tender little nub with his lips before sucking it hard into his mouth, his tongue gently stroking. Her kiss-swollen lips parted, and she made a sound somewhere between a whimper and a moan. It was the kind of sound that stoked a man’s confidence.

She pulled at his leine and drew it over the top of his head. Blue fingers trailed over his stomach, and she began a maddening descent to where he lay hard beneath his plaid. His muscles tightened automatically at her touch, and his cock jerked toward her hand. A grin spread over her lips.

She was not the only one who could tease.

His fingers eased beneath the provocative slit in her dress and, caress by intentionally slow caress, he made his way up the softness of her inner thighs to the thatch of downy hair.

With a lazy motion, the length of his finger grazed the heat between her legs. She gasped, and her hips gave a reflexive lurch. Desire tightened in his stomach. If she reacted with such passion to his hand, how would she respond with him buried inside her?

Anticipation tightened his bollocks, and he touched her again. His fingertip traced the outline of her slick cleft before gliding down its hot center. A groan sounded deep in his throat. God, she was so wet.

He cupped the sweet mound with his hand and probed lightly inside of her, teasing before he followed the natural trail of her sex toward the hardened little nub that would give her incredible pleasure. She buried her face against his neck, her breath whispering against his neck. He stroked her again and was rewarded with a breathless moan.

If she kept making those sounds against his ear, he would be unmanned long before he even had her.

With languid, purposeful movements, he massaged the tender bud. She arched back in his arms and ground her hips against his hand, her breathing frantic now. She tensed beneath his touch, and he knew she was close to her release.

His cock strained painfully at her high whimper as she stiffened in his arms. He sucked a nipple into his mouth.

He felt her telltale spasm against his fingers and heard his name on her lips as she cried out.

She opened her eyes and blinked slowly, her lips parted. One look at her dazed expression, and a realization slammed into him. This woman might have loved other men well, but it was evident she had never been well-loved.

He would see an end to that.

Her gaze trailed down his torso like fire to where his arousal thrust up beneath his kilt. Kieran swallowed. Her fingers glided down his sweat-dampened body to his thick belt. The breath hissed out between his teeth, trying to rein in the desire that threatened to overwhelm him.

She slid her finger along his belt, and a lazy grin lifted the corner of her lips. The metal prong clanked against the flat edge of his buckle, and the belt went loose. Kieran gripped the smooth wooden sides of his chair to keep from reaching out to her. Her gaze flicked up to his face, and she tugged the belt from his waist so his kilt lay folded, unsupported, across his lap.

Kieran shifted his grip on the chair and focused on the cool wood against his damp palms. Her hand brushed his thigh as she peeled back the top flap of his kilt. Sweat prickled along his brow. She went too slow. He was so hard he might burst beneath her measured movements before she even unveiled him.

She pulled the plaid away from him, inadvertently letting the wool rasp against the sensitive head, until his cock thrust into the blessedly cool air of the room, freed from the stifling heat of restraint.

Mariel’s eyes widened, and her mouth parted in a silent gasp. An arrogant grin spread over his lips before he could stop himself.

His hands caressed either side of her legs, gathering the shimmering silk around her hips. Her legs spread wider, and her wet heat rubbed against the length of his shaft, slick…hot…wanting. His hands balled into fists as if squeezing the delicate fabric might take the edge off the painful level of desire that hammered through him.