The Making of a Highlander (Midnight in Scotland #1) - Elisa Braden Page 0,86
“Listen, English. Ye’ve said what I’m to do for you. What will ye be doin’ for me?”
“I’ll give you sons.”
She snorted, pretending derision. “More mouths to feed.”
“I’ll give you a castle and a kitchen.”
“A castle to keep clean and a kitchen to cook yer meals, eh?”
His eyes burned with a silvery light. They raked across her breasts and belly, down to the hungriest part of her. “I’ll give you pleasure, woman. Endless, torturous pleasure.”
“Hmm. A fine beginnin’. Go on.”
“I’ll give you more gowns to wear so I can strip them from this delectable body.”
She swallowed. “I like gowns, English.”
“In winter, I’ll take you places you cannot even imagine, where the rain is warm instead of cold. Where you may lie naked in hot sand and gaze up at a cloudless sky.”
“What if I wish to stay here, where there’s nothin’ but snow and darkness?”
“Then, I’ll build a fire in your hearth to rival Hades.”
Where had the air gone? Not in her lungs, certainly. “I suspect ye’ll have no trouble in that quarter.”
“When summer comes, I’ll take you standing beneath the waterfall.”
She groaned. “What of autumn?”
“I’ll wrap your naked body in a plaid. Then I’ll hold you while you tell me outrageous tales about bats and poorly framed windows.”
“And spring?”
“Rutting season.”
“I thought that was every season.”
“It is.”
She laughed husky and low. How could any lass ever resist this man?
“God, you are beautiful.” His hand traced the bones at the base of her throat before sliding down over her left breast. “These are … an unmatched wonder.” He cupped and plumped and squeezed. “I must warn you, I’m a bit obsessed.”
She had no response, for he’d begun dragging his palm across her nipple in a steady, entrancing rhythm.
“I’ll want to suckle these rather vigorously, you see. Might make them a bit tender.”
“Oh, God.” Her hips arched off the bed. “Best get on with it, English. All this talkin’ has me ready to—”
His mouth engulfed her right nipple at the same moment his fingers tightened on the one he’d been stroking.
Pleasure burst from her breasts and rippled in every direction. She gasped, dug her heels into the bed, and sought his cock with her thigh. He was hot and hard and so ready for her, she didn’t know how he’d last.
Of course, everything she knew about this process she’d learned from overhearing men boast and rib and talk pure nonsense when they thought she wasn’t listening.
Nobody had ever told her how she would feel. How badly she would need to cradle his head closer and dig her fingers into his neck and beg him both to stop and never to stop because the pleasure was like liquor and too much for her sanity.
Her nipples wanted more of his mouth, his teeth, and his tongue. They pouted when he switched, abandoning one to the solace of his fingers. They swelled and grew almost unbearably sensitive to every stroke.
She writhed. She cursed. She called him vile names and promised she’d cook him venison with gravy every blessed day if he would only finish what he’d started.
“Oh, love,” he groaned with a grin in his voice. “Honey is all I crave.”
His suckling grew stronger. Her gasps grew sharper. He refused to touch her between her thighs, even though that was where she most needed him. Desperately, desperately needed him. He wouldn’t even allow her to grind her needy center against his legs or his cock.
“What are ye tryin’ to do to me, ye bonnie devil?”
“Make you come.”
“Then touch me here—”
“No. This first. I’ve waited so long. Dreamt of making you come with only this.”
He went at her again. Mouth and nipples and fingers and—ah, God. Just his voice. Just that. Desire turned that crisp, cultured English voice raw and graveled.
The sheer pleasure he drew from her—and the thought of him fantasizing about doing this to her—coalesced low in her belly. Hot between her thighs. Deeply pulsing inside her core. She groaned and arched into him, letting his mouth and hands carry her higher. Letting the waves of pleasure grow stronger and tighten. Letting them burst and then hold and then burst brighter. Higher. Rolling and blissful.
Then, she was floating, sifting her fingers through his hair while he kissed his way down her body.