Wild Highland Magic (The Celtic Legends Series Book 3)(44)

He loosened her tunic enough to yank it down until one sweet nipple strained away from the restricting neckline. He took it between his lips and rolled it around as she gripped his head and shuddered with her pleasure.

“Lachlan.”

His balls clenched, for in the speaking of his name he heard how much she ached for him. He gave up trying to pull down her tunic and instead gathered the hem of her skirts until he found the flesh of her thigh beneath. He ran his fingers up until one firm buttock filled his hand. She moaned and her head fell back onto the grass.

Rising up on his knees, he shoved her skirts up. He made short work with his belt and tugged his surcoat and tunic over his head as one. Her hollow belly rose and fell as he eased her knees wider. His cock throbbed when the shadow of her cleft came into view. He seized her by the hips and dragged her body closer to the swell of his shaft.

Then he paused, though the air was cool and her cleft gleamed and his cock pulsed for release. He wanted nothing more than to plunge into her and feel her hot body throbbing around him. He could give her nothing but his heart and the fleshy pleasures of their bodies, so he would make her come—hard, fierce, and often. He hesitated because she was a virgin and deserved a sweeter, kinder loving, but that was in part a lie. There was another reason that held him back from doing what nature demanded.

Once he slipped inside her body, she would slip inside his mind.

What would the woman he loved think when she pierced the shell of his long-blooded name and his Roman education to see within him the dull, ordinary, unlikely warrior?

He had no time to ponder, for her thighs quivered in his grip. He released them and ran his fingers toward her cleft to grant her the release she needed, but she gripped his hand still before he could touch her.

Her eyes were in shadow but her face filled with longing.

“Please,” she said, moving his hand away from her sex. “Come inside me, Lachlan.”

Her words scattered the last of his reason. He stretched forward, planting his hands on either side of her. He would accept the consequences. Perhaps if she knew the worst, she would revoke her offer to become his leman and leave him for safety as soon as his duty to Loch Fyfe and his clan was done.

So he surged forward until his cock kissed the warmth of her cleft.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


Cairenn dug her fingers into his arms as he pressed deeper between her legs. She craved his fullness, even as the pressure became painful. She flinched at a sudden, sharp twinge. He paused, the muscles in his forearms flexing.

In that moment of stillness, their breath rasping, she forced her heavy eyelids open to the sight of his midnight-blue eyes. He watched her as if he were trying to reach into her mind with his own. In the flex of his cheek, and the tiny movement of the muscles around his eyes, she sensed how he struggled to remain suspended when he wanted to sink fully into her. His restraint was a sweet kindness that rippled through her, causing the tingling pain to ebb and her body to soften around him.

She shifted her hips beneath him in unspoken welcome. With a groan, he slid all the way in.

The tight fit of his hot, hard flesh, now sheathed all the way to her womb, made her arch her neck in pleasure. With her eyes closed and her mind reaching wild, the wall against his thoughts dissolved. She found herself in a place that dazzled with light, a place she knew she shared with him, for they had the same hunger, the same need, the same pressing desire to get closer, ever closer.

He began moving, long, slick thrusts. She dug her fingers into the muscled swell of his shoulders as her blood raced. In her dizzy state, she imagined she could hear the skirl of pipes and the beat of deep-bellied drums, like some memory of a wild Lughnasa evening. The resonance of the thought-dream was like a pounding bodhrán whose quickening pace echoed in her heart.

She gasped for more. He was trying to be gentle. She sensed the strain in his mind. But she was done with gentleness.

Lachlan.

She’d spoken with her thoughts but he reacted as if she’d shouted an order. He made a growling sound deep in his throat and shifted his weight to better grasp her hips. Their loins met with each hungry thrust. His thoughts stretched tight and her body responded, her inner muscles closing around him to the point of a deep, unbearable ache. In a breathless instant, the feeling loosened.

An upsurge of sensation poured over her, rising and rising as he continued to thrust. She tightened her grip on his arms and felt his vibrating strength, the power he exerted to send her to greater heights of pleasure. Oh, to be taken like this by this man. Why had she hesitated at all? Why hadn’t she tempted him into this on Inishmaan? Wasn’t this worth a thousand lonely nights to come?

Through the haze of her own bounding pleasure she felt his thrusting become shorter, more urgent. As the muscles of his arms flexed, she blinked her eyes open to see him throw his head back. His neck bulged as he shouted and spilled into her womb. The essence of him spread inside her, tingling and warm, a powerful new pleasure that made every sensation crash at once.

She rode the curling wave as long as it lasted, lessening bit by bit. When it lapped in gentleness, she drifted down so she could once again feel the bend of the grass beneath her. He stayed stretched up, breathing hard, still inside her. After a moment or two his shoulders bowed and his head fell, his face obscured by the fall of his hair. She reached up to run her fingers through the tangle. She urged his head up so she could look into his heavy-lidded eyes. As she’d done so many times before, she pressed beyond the sight of his midnight-blue eyes into his mind.