The Highlander Is All That (Untamed Highlanders #4)(61)

She put out a lip. “Why not?”

His laugh was harsh. “Because I am ready, Anne. More than ready. Let me ready you.”

It was probably childish to pout. “I’m ready.”

“Nae. You are no’.” He proceeded to show her just how much more prepared he could make her. It was a delicious delirium. His lips and fingers drew insanity upon her, making her whimper and weep, tremble and quake. Beg.

When he kissed his way over her belly to her most private parts and opened her with his thumbs, she sucked in a breath and quivered in anticipation.

He did not disappoint. His mouth was warm and questing. He nibbled and nipped, kissed and sucked, made her mad with wanting.

Amid this glory, he slipped a finger inside her and the gathering storm that had been hunting her broke, taking her, spinning her, tossing her hither and yon.

It was as though her body was not her own, but at the same time, the sensations racing through her made her feel more alive than she’d ever been. Her soul soared, her mind spun, and her flesh exulted in a bliss that was nearly beyond bearing. It was an incredible sensation. One she’d never felt before. One she never wanted to end.

But it did, though he brought her down slowly.

She was still twitching and groaning with pleasure when he eased up and offered her a haughty grin. “Now,” he said in a rough voice. “Now you are ready.”

Then, not breaking her gaze, he rose above her, spread her legs with his, and nudged at her entrance.





Chapter Twenty-One


God. She was slick. Slick and hot and ready for him.

As Ranald rubbed himself against her slit, his pulse pounded in his temple, his cock ached with need, his heart rejoiced.

She’d been so responsive. So open. So welcoming.

He’d loved making her lose control, his lovely, guarded Anne. He’d loved making her cry out and whimper and plead.

Now it was time to answer those pleas. He could only hope he could control himself, hold back his frenetic passion until he could bring her to climax again.

He had his doubts.

He’d waited far too long. He’d loved her for so long.

With a deep breath, he fisted his cock and guided it home.

A shudder took him. God, she was tight. Wet. Perfect.

He continued his advance until he was seated fully, then he froze, waiting for her to open her eyes. When she did, there was a frown on her face. “What’s wrong?” she snapped.

“Ach. Nothing’s wrong, wee Anne.”

“Why did you stop?” Was she pouting?

“I wanted to make sure I’m no’ hurting you.”

There was no call for her to smack his shoulder. “It felt wonderful . . . until you stopped.”

She delighted him so, he couldn’t help teasing. Just a little. “Ach. Do you want more?”

Her frown intensified and she arched her back. “Yes, damn you.”

“Such language,” he whispered in her ear. “Whatever would Esmeralda say?”

Ach. Probably the wrong thing to say.

She stilled and yanked his head up by the hair so she could glower at him. “How can you think of her at a time like this?”

“My apologies.” Though he was anything but repentant. One had to have thoughts to be repentant. He made a small movement to distract her, one that he knew found that bundle of nerves deep within her, because she sank her fingers into his scalp and growled. “Yes,” she huffed. “Yes.”

He had every intention of teasing her more, but just then, she clutched him with her velvety muscles and her crazed response lit a fire in his gut.

“God, Anne,” he groaned. He took hold of her hips, raised her up, and yanked out.

She wailed in protest, but he reversed direction and sank deep again.

Her shudder was worth the effort. Her body closed on his cock in an exquisite and agonizing grasp. He grit his teeth and pulled out and thrust again. And again.

He became a rutting beast then, fucking his woman with a fury that made his head go light, made shivers dance on his skin, made sweat bead at his temple.

And—glory be—she was right there with him. His wild woman. His mate.

They rose together, to those blinding heights, she scratching at his back in her frenzy and need, and he barely hanging on.

He knew when she crested. Her body seized on him in a series of agonizing quivers, her eyes went wide, and she threw back her head with a silent cry.

Relief—utter and glorious—gushed through him and he let go the tight hold on his reins, launching into a series of hard, fast thrusts, each one of which pushed him higher and higher into the ether.

When he exploded, filling her with jet after jet of hot seed, she held him, stroked him, and murmured comforting words.

It was, without exception, the most enchanting moment of his life.

He lifted his head, though it took some effort, and kissed her on the lips as they both gasped for breath and fought to calm their beating hearts.

He cupped her cheek and brushed back her hair and stared at her.

His Anne.

God. He loved her.

But he didn’t speak the words. It was far too early for that.

Besides, they had all night.

And more.

*

Hamish waited impatiently in the common rooms of the Yorkshire inn. He’d expected Ranald to be up at first light and ready to go, but when he’d knocked on his friend’s door, he hadn’t answered.