Highland Outlaw (Campbell Trilogy #2)(68)
Her soft little sounds of pleasure were only increasing his agony. Her bottom nudged the heavy head of his c**k as he held her, and he thought he was going to explode. The temptation to wrap her legs around his waist and plunge into her heat was almost overwhelming. It would be so easy to lift her skirts and smooth his hand over the velvet softness of her naked bottom, lifting her over him as the weight of her body took him deeper and deeper.
Oh, God. The heavy tug in his groin was unbearable.
What the hell was the matter with him? He was acting like a damn barbarian.
He was a damn barbarian. He wanted to take her over and over. Make her come until she could think of no one else but him. Until he proved that she truly belonged to him.
He broke the kiss long enough to lower her to the pallet, forcing himself to slow, to tame the beast raging inside him. Cursing the absence of his plaid, he divested himself of his jerkin, shirt, and boots and lay down next to her.
The soft press of her body stretched out against his was too much. He wanted to sink into her, to feel all that softness envelop him in its healing embrace. Unable to keep his hands off her for a second longer, he slid his palms down her waist and over her hips, molding every sweet curve through the thin gauzy fabric.
He felt like a bairn with a roomful of sweets. He didn't know where to start, but he was going to eat every sugary piece. Would she melt in his mouth? Dissolve into a warm puddle of syrup?
He scooped up her br**sts in his hands. The soft round flesh spilled over his fingers, more lush than he ever could have imagined—and he'd done plenty of that late at night when the discomfort in his loins became unbearable.
Did she touch herself and think of him? He clenched his jaw to fight the surge at the thought of her pale soft hands pleasuring herself while he watched.
Barbarian.
His mouth slid over her jaw and down her throat, her skin as smooth and sweet as cream. “God, you taste incredible,” he murmured, his tongue sliding a teasing path along the edge of her bodice. “I want to lick every inch of you.” He lifted her br**sts to his face and nuzzled her lightly, inhaling the warm feminine scent in the deep cleft. His thumb grazed the turgid peak through the silky cloth. “Your tight little ni**les.” He looked into her eyes intently. “The soft skin above your thighs.”
Her eyes lit with surprise and then with something far more dangerous … curiosity. This woman could unman him.
She squirmed a little in his arms, her impatience fueling his hunger.
His fingers worked the ties of her gown, loosening it enough to ease it down past her shoulders and lift her br**sts over the tight confines of her stays, at last revealing her bare chest to his greedy gaze.
He sucked in his breath, letting it out in short, ragged gasps. He loved br**sts—big, small, and everything in between—but Elizabeth's were nothing short of spectacular. Mind-blowing. Bury-your-face-and-never-want-to-leave. Every man's erotic fantasy. Lush and round, firm and high, topped by small ni**les the same soft pink of her lips. “You're beautiful,” he groaned.
He almost didn't want to touch her. The porcelain skin looked so delicate and unblemished—too fine for his big, rough hands. But he couldn't resist. He cupped her, and the sensation of all that warm, silky skin under his callused palms forced another groan as he caressed the velvety softness with his hands and fingers.
She didn't break, she shuddered. Arching into his hand, into his mouth, threading her fingers through his hair insistently. He kissed her gently at first, brushing his lips over the smooth, creamy skin, savoring the taste of her on his tongue. He flicked his tongue over her nipple, using the heat of his breath on her damp skin to increase her pleasure. She beaded and tightened, the petal-pink skin darkening to mouthwatering raspberry.
He tamped down the reflexive surge. Hell, he could come just looking at her.
He couldn't wait any longer and took the pink pearl between his teeth and tongue. She moaned, a low, throaty sound that called to him in the most primitive way. God, she was ripe. Like a juicy peach that he couldn't wait to bite into.
He sucked her harder. Deeper. Circling her nipple with his tongue as his hand eased up the edge of her skirt.
She was so incredibly responsive. His hand slid up the inside of her thigh. So incredibly soft. His finger swept her sex, and he jerked, his body weeping to feel the slick heat. So incredibly ready.
He wanted nothing more than to strip her naked and devour every inch of her. To press his lips and tongue against her until she shattered. But that would have to wait; they had a lifetime to explore their passion. Though she'd taken the precaution of barring the door, his men could return at any time or someone could come looking for her.
He teased her with his fingers until her hips began to press against his hand. Until the tiny whimpers increased in urgency. Her hands were on his shoulders, on his arms. Sculpting his muscles, clutching him wildly, begging.
She was going to come.
Oh, yes. He swelled hard and hot.
He circled her nipple with his tongue, and when he felt her start to break apart, he sucked her deep into his mouth and pressed his finger against her sensitive spot. She cried out, arching her back against his mouth as her body clenched around his finger with a wave of rippling contractions.
He couldn't take his eyes off her face. She was so beautiful like this, it made his chest ache. Head tossed back. Cheeks flushed. Lips parted. Her raw passion roused him to the breaking point.