Highland Hellion (Highland Weddings #3)(56)

He’d touched the parts of her she considered intimate, yet now he drew his fingers and hands along her sides in long strokes like he might with a horse. She stretched, the sensation a rush of delight that awakened her senses.

“It is,” he agreed.

Her heart was speeding up again. But it was also thumping in hard, deep beats. She could hear the blood rushing in her ears as Rolfe drew his hands up to her shoulders and down to rest on her breasts.

She craved having him cup those tender globes long before he did so. She hungered for it, feeling as though every moment was a tiny torment she must endure before he would deliver satisfaction.

“Hmmm…” It was bliss when he finally put his hands to her.

“Such perfect handfuls.” He leaned down, teasing one with a kiss.

It wasn’t enough. She arched up, offering the puckered nipple. “Strength.” She ground out the word as she tried to pull him toward her. “Let me feel yours.”

He lay down on her, holding her wrists pressed against the bedding above her head and letting enough of his body weight rest on her to ensure she was pinned beneath him.

“I want to do that as well,” he told her, watching her while she absorbed how much stronger he was than her. “Part of me longs to ride ye hard and hold ye so tight that there is no way for ye to break free.”

Something deep inside her responded to his words. She felt a leap of excitement and a wave of heat washing through her. Her lips curled, just a bit, baring her teeth.

He grinned in response, but it wasn’t a kind expression. No, it was menacing and bright with promise. Somehow driving home just how male he was while leaving her with certain knowledge that she was his counterpart, made to fit him.

Apart, they would always yearn for each other.

“Tonight, though”—he pulled away from her, stroking her once again—“I am going to prove I can be a man as well as beast in our bed.”

He made good on his words, stroking her and then following his large hands with a hundred tiny kisses that felt like butterflies. She’d never realized her skin might be so sensitive. With only his delicate touches, she seemed to be focused more on waiting for the next kiss to land and, therefore, more aware of it when it did.

She writhed against the sheet, unable to remain still, reaching for him, needing to share the bliss between them. She heard his breathing deepen, roughen, as he fought for control. She was already wet and aching for his possession, but he resisted the invitation she tried to make by parting her thighs beneath him.

Instead, he slipped down her length, rubbing her as he went and driving her nearly insane with need.

At least, she thought she was that far gone until he settled over her spread sex.

“Rolfe William Brian McTavish.”

He sent her a satisfied smirk in response, but flattened his hands on her inner thighs to keep them spread. “Did ye know the older women say a woman will nae conceive sons if she is no’ satisfied?”

Katherine felt her cheeks burning with what must have been the hottest blush of her entire life. He was hovering right over her open slit, teasing the mound of her curls with his fingertips.

Why had she never noticed how it felt to have those hairs touched?

“That’s…preposterous.”

He grinned at her and drove a little deeper into her curls, so that he was touching skin.

“I like the way ye sound more English when ye are agitated.”

She scoffed at him. “You don’t care for anything English.”

One of his eyebrows rose. “No’ true, lass.” He drew his fingers lower until he was touching the little bud at the top of her sex. “I find I enjoy ye…quite a bit.”

She wanted to take issue with him, but her thoughts scattered like a broken strand of pearls as he teased her clitoris. The pleasure was so intense that she cried out, and then didn’t stop because there was no way to keep it all contained inside herself.

Rolfe wasn’t content with merely fingering her. He leaned down and licked the same spot, pushing her into a new realm of twisting need. She was poised on the pinnacle, suspended there between a hunger so intense she thought it might drive her insane and the pleasure that would break her in two. She was straining toward him, desperate for release, one he denied her.

“Damn you…” she hissed when he held her in place for more torment.

“A damnation we will share, Kat.”

He was suddenly rising up, giving her a glance of his hard body, his member stiff and jutting out from it. She shuddered at the sight, reminded of how much she craved his strength. He came over her, granting her that wish at last, settling between her thighs as he thrust into her body.

It was a smooth motion but a hard one. One of them grunted, or perhaps it was both. In that moment, they seemed to unite in a common goal. She craved him; he hungered for her. The bed rocked as he thrust into her, riding her as hard as she’d demanded.

But it wasn’t enough. She sank her nails into his shoulders and then drew them down his arms. He growled and caught her wrists, pinning them once more to the surface of the bed. They were both rushing toward completion, the hunger building, growing hotter, and driving them past thinking. There were only the cravings left when pleasure tore through her. She arched up, grinding herself against him as he came down in a thrust that buried his member to the hilt.