Devil's Highlander

He rolled onto his back, but he didn't wake — or didn't think he did. Instead, the sensations intensified, until he imagined the soft weight of her long hair feathering against his belly, his legs. There was a lick of warmth, and he imagined her mouth



Cormac's eyes flew open.



Not a dream. He froze. Marjorie knelt over him, her hair a wild tangle in the early morning light. She was touching him, exploring him, laying such sweet kisses all over him.



He needed to stop her. He'd sworn to keep her virginity intact. Marjorie's virtue, above all things, was to be preserved.



But the feel of her, it was too exquisite. He held his breath. Her small hands lit along his skin, so delicate, like the touch of a bird.



But there was confidence there, too. Eagerness and questing. She took his shaft in her hand and tentatively kissed all around him. He gave an involuntary shiver. He should stop her, but it was so good. She lifted her head, and his skin was cool for a moment, and then her lips encircled him, and the wet heat of her mouth pulled him in.



He fought not to gasp. Too good.



Soon, he'd feign waking and stop her. But not yet. Slowly, she drew him in and then took him out again, her movements exploratory, untutored. Just a few moments more. A dreamlike hush enveloped the room, quiet but for the sound of her lips and tongue.



He should let her know he wasn't asleep. But she was rearranging her body over his, and he had to see what she did next. He slanted his eyes down, careful not to move.



With her mouth still on him, she began to slide her legs apart, slowly guiding her cleft closer to his leg, her hips arching down, seeking her own release.



His back flexed, heels digging into the mattress. Too much, too good.



She cradled his leg between hers, grinding into him. He felt her hum of pleasure on his cock. It was a force of will not to explode on the spot.



She wants this. It was a revelation. Ree had seen his desolation, and she still wanted to lie with him.



She wants me. And what if he were to give in, to surrender himself to her? What if he simply let go? In asking to share his memories, she'd requested nothing less than a glimpse into his soul. Could she withstand the bleakness she saw there? Could she stanch his hopelessness, eventually blot out the pain?



Would she save him?



He'd been a desert when she'd arrived back in his life. But as feeling returned to his heart, he marveled to realize, it wasn't that bad. He was surviving it. Could he survive her?



Could he be with her?



He remembered the steadiness with which she'd heard his story. The same hand that brought him such pleasure now had last night curled so tenderly around his neck. He'd shown her his despair, and she didn't flinch away.



He watched her tentative movements. She pulled away, kissing him, learning him, in the hazy morning light. Then in a single motion, she leaned closer and sucked him deep into her mouth.



“Oh, Ree,” he whispered finally. He reached down and gave a single stroke to her hair. If she wanted his bleak and godforsaken heart, then hers it would be.



Her fingers curled into his thighs, holding on, protesting his interruption. He brought his hand under her arm and nudged her toward him. “To me, love.”



“Cormac… “ She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and his blood surged at the wanton sight of it. “I know you said—”



He stopped her words with a kiss. He held nothing back. The raw needs of a man, the tender affection of a lover



— the lifetime of his wanting went into his kiss.



She was wildfire, on him in an instant, the bright flame of her searing over his body, tangling her hands in his hair, writhing her hips against his. She cupped his face in her hands, and the look in her eyes was triumphant and fever-bright. “I want you.”



“Patience, Ree.” He forced himself to slow down, moving his hands over her body in long, languid strokes. It was her first time; he would do this right.



He kissed her again, his tongue exploring her mouth with deep, lazy thrusts. He slipped his fingers between their bodies, finding her. He moaned to feel how slick she was, how ready for him.



He kissed her more, and it set his blood on fire, until he couldn't stop kissing her. He didn't know where to move his hands — he wanted them everywhere. He wanted to feel her everywhere, to know and pleasure every last inch of her body. And so his touch roved all over. Tangling in her hair, down her lithe arms, to her breasts. They were so tight and firm. He chafed and squeezed them, and her wild moans sent a shock of pure lust to his groin.



“Now, Cormac,” she begged, and her hands wrapped around his buttocks to pull him closer. “Please. I want you.



Now.”



He gritted his teeth, drawing deliberate breaths. He would not rush this; he had to be the disciplined one. “I don't want to hurt you, Ree. I want to make sure you're ready.”



She wriggled atop his body, nestling his shaft just right, until he was poised in her slick folds. “I am ready,” she insisted.



“Not yet,” he told her and retook control. Clutching her with one arm, he swept her beneath him on the bed and set to devouring her neck and breasts until he thought he might see red from his need to take her.



With a frustrated whimper, she tilted her shoulder, urging a breast back to his lips. “I've been ready.” He hated the thought that this might cause her pain; he'd do everything in his power to ease it for her. Once again, Cormac brought his hand between them, his finger finding her and sliding in with ease. And then he slid in another. She was tight, but so wet.



“Aye,” he couldn't help but laugh low into her neck through his kisses. “You are ready at that.” He crooked his fingers and felt a rush of masculine satisfaction at her little cries of pleasure. “But you're so tight.”



“Wait.” He felt her body stiffen the slightest fraction. “Will it hurt very much?”



“Relax, love. Look at me.”



She looked. Daylight caught her eyes at an angle, lighting them the eerily vivid blue of stained glass. Her mussed light brown hair reminded him of the color of wet sand.



“It will. But I think it's just for a moment, and then you'll feel the pleasure.”



“You think?”



He kissed the crooked half-smile from her mouth. “The pain will go quickly.”



“Wait,” she said again. “Cormac?”



He froze. “Anything, Ree. What is it?”



“I trust you, you know. And I want you very badly. Please do it now.”



“I'm trying, love.” Chuckling, he kissed each corner of her lips. He nipped at her earlobe. “Now may I get back to it?”



Feeling her nod against his neck, he eased inside her an inch, and then another, all the while nuzzling and murmuring at her ear to distract her from the pain. He wanted nothing more than to plunge himself deep inside her, and the muscles in his back and thighs quivered with restraint.



He pushed in deeper and felt her sharp intake of breath. He paused, searching her eyes. “I don't want to hurt you.”



“You can't hurt me, Cormac. You'd never hurt me.” She canted her hips toward him, and he could no longer fight it. With one hard thrust, he drove all the way into her.



She cried out, and he froze.



Marjorie caught her breath, and then gave a quick laugh. “Go on, Cormac.” She shifted suggestively beneath him.



“I know that's not all there is to it.”



And then he laughed, too, with relief, with disbelief.



Their gazes locked, and his smile faded, his mirth hardening into something darker and more primitive. His cock pulsed inside her, and he began to thrust. She gasped, shutting her eyes, clutching at his shoulders.



Cormac had one last flickering thought before losing himself to her. “I think I'm still dreaming, Ree.” And then she loosened, and finding his rhythm, joined him. Time fell away, until Marjorie shouted her climax, and Cormac's deep groan of pleasure wasn't far behind.



He held himself over her, bearing his weight on his arms. He rained tender kisses over her face as they caught their breath. “There's no going back,” he told her, his voice husky with emotion. “For either of us.”



“I don't want to go back, Cormac.” She drew a strand of hair from his sweat-dampened brow. “Ever.” His heart clenched. Was it possible for a man like him to find redemption?



Cormac rolled onto his back, tucking her in the crook of his arm so they could doze in the late morning. But lying there motionless proved as turbulent as being tossed about in storm-roiled surf, his heart pitching in his chest like flotsam. He prayed he could keep her safe and that he might keep his soul safe in the bargain. But he knew it was too late now. He was too far gone.



He thought she was dozing, and so when she spoke, her clear voice pricked his consciousness, sounding through his reverie like the chime of a bell.



“I don't want to leave you,” she murmured, tracing lazy lines along his chest with her fingertip. His skin was damp, and her touch drew gooseflesh in its wake. “I don't even want to fall asleep.”



“You won't be leaving me,” he said groggily. With a firm arm, he nestled her to him, stroking her hair. Sated exhaustion pulled him down. “Ree, don't you know?”



“Hm?” She snuggled closer.



“I find you when I sleep.” He let himself begin to drift, filling his head with the scent of her, filling his hands with the wavy silk of her hair. It was peace. “Always.”



Chapter 25



They stood arm in arm at the foot of the quay. Marjorie's legs still trembled from yesterday. Merciful sweet heavens above. Yesterday.



She looked up at Cormac, remembering. They'd lain abed much of the day, simply exploring each other. He'd wake her up with his wanting and send her back to sleep sated, repeating it over and again until her thighs ached from their lovemaking.



Finally, in the late afternoon, he'd left her to pay a visit to the bailie, and then to the docks. But he'd come back. She sighed dreamily. He had most certainly come back.



And though her body was still tender, he had awoken deep and slumbering places she hadn't known existed. She gave him a coy but suggestive smile. They were places that wanted to be explored again, and soon.