Page 65

And then his mouth closed around her nipple, covered in her shift still. Isla gasped, arching into him.

He took the fabric between his teeth and pulled it down, letting it drag over her sensitive skin.

“Ah!” she moaned, her head falling back.

The wet heat of his mouth wrapped around her nipple again, and he sucked on her. Her hand flew to her lips to smother another moan, afraid the castle would hear her.

“Ye taste so good,” Alisdair groaned.

He cupped both breasts gently, framing them for the attack of his mouth that made her go insane with need.

His mouth went back to her neck, and his hands moved lower past her waist and her round hips, his fingers pulling up her skirts. Isla could tell he was trying to control himself as her hands roamed over his back.

Eventually, he gave up his slow pursuit and wrapped her legs around his waist, letting her skirts pool around her hips.

Isla gasped at the feel of him beneath her bare legs. His fingers trailed up her ankles and nudged her slippers off her feet. Then they traveled up her calves to the inside of her thighs.

He stopped and looked down at her. They were both breathing hard. She couldn’t resist. She pulled him closer and claimed his lips.

Alisdair drew slow circles on her inner thighs while nudging her legs wider, making her feel fully exposed. And then she felt his thumb brush against her sex. A featherlight touch that hit her like summer lightning.

“Oh, Isla,” he groaned. “So wet.”

She didn’t have time to react before his finger found a spot that made her back arch and her mouth fall open on a breathless moan.

“Does this make ye feel good, Isla?”

She wasn’t sure she was still on earth, but her body didn’t wait for her mind to catch up with the white-hot pleasure. She ground her hips into his touch, and he purred against her neck.

“Talk to me, me little rebel.”

“Aye! Feels good.”

His mouth ravaged her, licking, biting, kissing. He moved from her jaw to her mouth and then her breasts, leaving no inch unclaimed. He sucked on her nipple, coaxing a deep moan from her. And his fingers…

Oh, his fingers!

He explored her gently till he found a sweet spot where pleasure almost catapulted her off the desk. But his iron grip held her where he wanted her.

“Ye arenae goin’ anywhere, Isla,” he murmured.

She bit her lip, her nails raking across his shoulders as he kept circling the little nub that became her whole existence.

“Alisdair,” she gasped.

“Me little rebel,” he purred. “Let go.”

Pressure swelled inside her as he continued stroking her. His fingers worked her tenderly, teasing her entrance while his thumb circled her nub. Her toes curled, and her inner walls fluttered. One more stroke, and she would⁠—

“Alisdair!” she cried out.

Her head fell back on the desk as she climaxed. He kept stroking her through every pulse, murmuring her name against her neck.

When the pleasure finally ebbed and her breathing evened out, both of them were shaking. Thankfully, he was still holding her, or else she would have slid off the desk.

“Me wife,” he whispered against her lips. “Me bonnie wife.”

She caressed his face with a soft smile and trembling hands. He chuckled, wrapped his plaid around her, and picked her up, disheveled as she was.