Devil's Highlander

“All right,” she murmured, splaying her hands on either side of his hips. She stroked both thumbs close to the line of buttons, her rapt attention on the thick swell in his pants. “I'll unbutton you, then.” She traced her finger along the top of his waistband.



“Ree,” he croaked. “What do you do to me?”



She realized her control over him, and it was heady. To have Cormac so close, after so many years, was heady.



“You told me to undo you,” she said, feeling wild and uninhibited. She hesitated for a moment, then traced her finger down the line of his manhood.



His breathing caught, and he fisted his hands in the sheets. “Christ, woman.” Smiling to herself, she undid his first two buttons, revealing the tip of his manhood. The head of it looked like a ripe fruit, and mesmerized, she traced it with her fingertip, spreading damp along its hard ridge.



“Good… God.” Cormac moaned and hitched his hips as though in pain. “You'll kill me.” Each button she opened revealed more of him, smooth and dark in the candlelight, until his pants were loosed about his hips and his erection was stiff between them. She reached out to stroke him, amazed at the size of him, at the silken smoothness.



“So wicked you are.” Eyes narrowing, he pulled Marjorie back up to him. “I'll kiss that wicked smile from you, woman,” he said, before parting her lips in a slow, deep kiss.



Their kiss grew frantic, hands twining in hair, skimming along legs, clutching at arms and shoulders. A feral urge overcame her, and with it a hunger so powerful it blinded her, blotting out her reality.



She welcomed this darkness. For one night, she'd jettison her life of empty solitude. She'd reject her virginity as meaningless; virtue was for naught. She was and would remain a spinster. Her maidenhead was worth nothing without a husband to take it. And the only husband she wanted was Cormac.



Her hands were restless, kneading his waist, his hard shoulders, and the tensed muscles of his arms. She pulled away to kiss along his jaw. She whispered in his ear. “I can't touch you enough.” He sat up, trying to gain the upper hand, and she pushed him back onto the mattress. “No. I want to watch you.” They shucked off his trews, and he groaned, seeming to grow stiffer and larger, if that were even possible. Joy bloomed to life in her breast, mingling with her arousal. She felt mischievous and freed, and she wanted to laugh.



And then she shifted, realizing she wanted to do more still than that. “Lie still, Cormac.”



“Och, woman, what are you—”



She kissed down the hard plane of his chest, down his belly, and he groaned in surrender.



His erection jutted between her breasts, and it set her legs to trembling. Bracing herself over him, she kissed lower and then paused, amazed to be so close. An urge struck her, and she thought surely she was the most corrupt of sinners, because she wanted to kiss him there. She leaned down to taste the very essence of his manhood.



“Not yet,” he growled, startling her. He grabbed her, swinging her up and onto her back. He crawled over her, and she instinctively wrapped her legs around him. With a low laugh, he ran his hands along her arms, spreading them up over her head. His eyes devoured her face, her breasts. “Look at you, like a wanton.”



“Now, Cormac.” Some primitive instinct told her relief was near, and she arched her back, eager to feel the hard length of him brush against her. Finally, his erection grazed her, so large and heavy at her cleft, and she gasped with the pleasure of it. But then he shifted away, and she moaned her displeasure. “Now, Cormac. Please.”



“Easy, lass.” He nipped at her neck, rained kisses down her throat, until he reached a breast. He brought a hand down to cup it, stroking and kissing her softly, teasing around the edges until she thought she might scream with want. “This is about you. All for you.”



He took her nipple in his mouth, and ecstasy like none she'd ever imagined rocked through her. He moved to the other, sucking hard, until she felt the pleasure of it pulse all the way down to her womb. He pulled away. “I've dreamt of this, Ree.” The feel of his breath on her damp breasts brought them to exquisitely tight peaks. “Dreamt of you.”



She knew she should be pleased, but for now his words were meaningless. All she understood, all she knew, was this maddening want. “Then take me,” she said, her need for relief grown urgent.



She swiveled her hips higher, desperate to rub against him. Finally, he rested his weight between her thighs, and she thought she might weep with delight.



“Cormac,” she gasped. “I know what it is, between a man and a woman. I want us to… “ Reluctantly he pulled his mouth from her breast and brought his face level with hers. Cupping her cheek, he stroked her lower lip with his thumb. “What is it you want, Ree?”



“I want you.”



He kissed the corner of her mouth. “And so you have me.” He kissed the other corner. “But I told you. This is only about you. I'll not take your virginity” — she began to protest at once, and he silenced her with a finger to her lips — “but I will do something else for you.”



A moment's disappointment skewered her, thinking he might not want to lie with her. But it was replaced just as quickly by titillated curiosity. “Do what for me, Cormac?”



Cradling her body between his legs, he knelt over her, making her feel as though she were an altar he bowed before. He stroked his hands down her torso, lingering over her breasts, and then caressed slowly downward until he reached the apex of her thighs.



He shifted, settling lower on the bed. Gently, he parted her legs, idly stroking his thumbs along the top edges of her inner thighs. “I'll make you come.”



Chapter 22



Marjorie didn't quite understand. She didn't want to leave this bed. “Come where? Where are you going?” He merely chuckled, and then maddeningly, he rose from the bed. Where was the blasted man off to?



She looked him up and down and, like an eager pup, she couldn't stop looking. He stood so tall over the bed, and with his hard-cut body and the fine webbing of scars that shone in the flickering light, he looked so dangerous.



His manhood jutted ominously in the shadows, and her eyes went wide. She fisted her hands in the sheets as if that could slow down her careening heart.



And yet she wasn't afraid. Nervous, yes, that she wouldn't know what to do or how to act. But not afraid, never with him. She knew, better than she knew herself, that Cormac would never hurt her. She wondered how it could be possible that she always felt so safe with him, this man who claimed to bear such darkness in his soul.



She just wished she knew what he was about. “Where could you possibly-?



“Cormac!” she yelped, as he grabbed her knees and tugged her to the edge of the bed. “What are you doing?” He knelt before her, spreading her legs.



Her pulse throbbed in her neck, and she tried to swallow. What was he doing? What was she supposed to do? “I… I—



”



He went straight to her inner thighs, spreading hot, openmouthed kisses along her skin.



Her mouth went dry. He was so… close down there. Close to… down there. “What are you-?” His hand swept up her belly, straight for her breast, finding her nipple with his thumb.



“Ohh,” she moaned, “Oh my.”



Against her better judgment, her body relaxed, until she found herself lying back on the bed. She shut her eyes and let herself enjoy the feel of his hands on her breasts and his mouth along her legs. Come where? she wondered distantly.



He shifted. There was a moment's chill on her thigh where his mouth had been. And then she felt his tongue lick her there.



“Cormac!” Her head shot up, but he ignored her. “Cor—”



He latched onto her.



Oh sweet heavenly…



“Oh… “ Such rapturous warmth spread from his tongue to the very tips of her fingers and toes. He moaned, sounding pleased. Could he actually be enjoying it? “Cormac?”



He slid a finger into her.



“Oh dear,” she muttered, dropping her head back.



He crooked it deeper, working her with fingers and tongue, and all notions of embarrassment fled her mind. She twined one hand in his hair and flung the other over her head, loose and languid, like butter melting in his touch.



She swiveled her hips, pitching herself closer to his mouth. “Ohhh. Oh my… “ Cormac's low chuckle reverberated through her core. He was enjoying it.



“That's good,” she murmured. The feeling of warmth grew intense, the sparks in her belly quickening to flame.



And the sensation grew more powerful still.



“Come back,” she pleaded, a little frightened she might lose control. His mouth felt miraculous, but she was ready to kiss him again. She gave a little tug to his hair to nudge him back over her. “Kiss me again.” He unlatched to say in a ragged voice, “I am kissing you,” and then nestled even deeper in the crook of her thighs.



“Really,” she said, growing nervous. She didn't want to hurt his feelings, but this was growing too intense.



“You can stop now.”



The arm she'd splayed so languidly over her head tensed. She felt agitated, her body too hot, and it frightened her. The heat from his mouth seared her, flowing molten in her veins.



She realized she was panting for air. “It's too much,” she gasped. “Cormac, please. Cor… oh.” Something deep inside her hitched, held taut, and she held her breath to match. Too much. It was too much, and she was afraid she might die of it. “Cormac, I can't… “



She gulped in a single breath, then stilled again, her whole body rigid. Marjorie shouted as her body seemed to explode. Her lungs loosened, and with it came a tremendous release, sweeping her into momentary oblivion. She trembled; she was shuddering, mindless rapture, a thousand shards of glittering crystal suspended in darkness.



She'd had no idea.



She became aware that he was laving kisses all along her inner thighs, stroking her legs, her belly, her breasts. He paused, and she felt his words blow across her damp skin. “I'm sorry, Ree. I couldn't stop.” Sorry? She swallowed, trying to reacquaint herself with the use of her tongue. Oh yes, she'd asked him to stop.