The Making of a Highlander (Midnight in Scotland #1) - Elisa Braden Page 0,88

head, not as a denial but simply because all thought had ceased. She spun inside a whirlwind.

“Yes,” he insisted. “Tight because you were meant to be mine alone. Wet because your nipples need my mouth. We’ll do that again tonight if you’re not too sore. You want me to move?”

She nodded. Whimpered. “English.”

His cock slid deeper, the pressure intensifying. “There. Better?”

Her answer was to arch her back and gasp for air. For bloody sanity.

“There it is.” He sounded utterly pleased. “That’s the way. Your body longs to be filled, love. Let mine be of service. That is why I was born.” His eyes burned and his arms shook and his muscles hardened to stone. “You are why I was born.”

Her pleasure broke open. Her body seized upon his with screaming force. The relentless waves milked and milked him, demanding he do precisely what he’d promised—to fill her completely. And so he did. With a hard, agonized groan, he applied himself to the task, taking her and taking her and taking her. Pounding and pounding and pounding. Heat coiled. Friction ignited. A few more ramming strokes, and she rejoiced as ecstasy consumed him in a blaze. He roared with it. He shook the bed with it. His body strained and writhed in its grip, filling her with his seed. His need. His pleasure and strength. Burying his face in her neck, he collapsed upon her, his muscles slowly easing, but his hot, damp breaths a pulsing remnant of his pleasure. In the aftermath, he eased his weight to the side but slid her thigh up over his, refusing to pull free of her.

Happily replete, she lay half beneath him, still joined, running her fingers over his remarkable arms and savoring the thought of lying like this each night. Of touching him whenever the whim took her. Of carrying his bairns inside her womb. Of watching him laugh and eat her food and become a father.

He would be a good one, she thought. Then, she tried moving a bit and grinned when he sleepily gathered her closer, refusing to let her budge an inch. John Huxley would be good at most things. Best of all, he’d be a spectacular husband.

“Marry me, Annie,” he murmured against her throat, the words slurring and drowsy. “Say you will.”

“Aye, English. I want nothin’ more.” She stroked his jaw with all the tenderness aching inside her—and regret at the pain she’d caused him. “I’m sorry it took me so long to say so.”

A long breath whooshed from him as though he’d been holding it in for years. He held her tighter. Wrapped himself around her. Then, as his heavy muscles relaxed fully into sleep, he muttered, “Sorry it took me so long to find you.”

Chapter Seventeen

TlU

Why had she ever accused John Huxley of being dainty? The man weighed a ton. And he slept harder than a bloody rock.

Annie managed to lift his hand from her breast, but his other hand immediately squeezed her bottom and scooted her further beneath him. She’d be pleased to accommodate him if daylight weren’t already pouring through the window. But she must return to MacPherson House before Angus sent her brothers to kill the man she loved.

“Devil’s ballocks, English,” she panted, cradling her future husband’s head, which lay between her bosoms. He was impossible to wake. She patted his cheek. No response. “I’d reckon ye up and died on me if yer cock hadnae decided to wish me a good mornin’.” She stroked the length of his braw, strong back and stretched to caress his equally braw backside. “A very good mornin’, indeed.”

She longed to stay. Sore though she was, she wanted to remain with him until he awakened. She wanted to watch his eyes burn gold for her in this bright dawn light. But she had to go.

With a great heave, she shoved his shoulder. It took an additional four shoves and a lot of sliding to accomplish her aim. He turned onto his back, but his grip on her lower back rolled her with him until her body plastered atop his. Their position suddenly spread her legs wide over his hips and nestled his cock in the seam between her thighs.

She dropped her forehead onto his shoulder and laughed. “Even when ye’re dead asleep, ye’re ready for another tuppin’.” She raised up to kiss his bonnie lashes and perfect lips. “If