The Chief (Highland Guard #1)(26)

Not usually so impatient, all he could think about was sinking into her from behind and thrusting until the mindless oblivion overcame them both. He rubbed himself against her bottom a little harder, liking the idea more and more. His c**k throbbed painfully. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this aroused. His body responded to her on a base level with pure, raw lust.

MacDonald had outdone himself with this one.

He could feel the gentle swell of her hips and the round curve of her shapely bottom. She might be small, but she was sturdy. Built perfectly for what he had in mind.

His hand slid from around her waist to cup her breast. He groaned at the feel of her filling his palm, his mind immediately picturing the breast he’d seen earlier. This lass had more than enough to make him forget.

He scooped the heavy flesh in his hand, rubbing her nipple between his finger and thumb until it tightened into a hard peak, the way he’d wanted to touch another.

She made a sharp sound, her hips riding back against him. Oh yes, she wanted it badly. He could feel her heart racing wildly under his hand.

He drew the soft lobe of her ear between his teeth. “Like that, do you?” he whispered huskily.

She didn’t respond. She didn’t need to. It was better that way. This was about pure, mindless lust. He didn’t even want to know what she looked like.

In the darkness, she could be anyone.

Like it? Christina couldn’t breathe—first from shock, and then from the hot waves of sensation rippling through her. It felt incredible. Like liquid heat pouring through her veins.

Her heart was racing like a rabbit’s. But he didn’t seem to notice. If he wasn’t drunk, he was close. She could smell the whisky on his breath and hear it in his voice—the dark, masculine tones turned deep and husky. Who would have thought that such a fierce warrior could sound so seductive?

But if the drink had taken the edge off his intensity, it had also dulled his senses enough to mistake her shocked reaction for something else.

He thought she wanted … this. Admittedly, an understandable mistake given that she was in his bed.

Should she call out? Tell him who she was?

At least she was safe for now. As long as he was behind her, her virtue was safe. She wasn’t a complete innocent; she knew how men and women made love.

But where was her father?

Then he was touching her, and she forgot about being scared, forgot about her father’s plan, forgot about everything except what he was doing to her. All she could think about was the hard column pressed against her bottom, his mouth on her neck and ear, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down her spine, and the incredible sensation of his big hands cupping her br**sts, squeezing and plying her ni**les until they throbbed with pleasure.

Never could she have imagined that a man’s touch could make her feel like this. Heavy, drugged, as if her body were not her own. It was even better than in her book! She was hot and achy, awash in sensation, her body tingling in places she’d never imagined. Her br**sts were full and heavy, and a strange dampness gathered between her legs.

Her body’s reaction would have embarrassed her, but she was too overcome with pleasure to think about it. His hands felt too good. Big, possessive, hot. The pressure exquisite. Leaving her craving—nay, needing—more. She moaned, arching into his hand when the sensations he roused by stroking her br**sts became too much to bear. When the clawing need had nowhere to go.

Her innocent response did something to him. His movements grew more demanding. His kiss turned rougher, his mouth and the scrape of his whiskers ravaging the soft skin of her neck. He was breathing hard, the muscles in his arms and chest tight and strained, his passion as fierce as the man himself. And she liked it.

“God, you feel incredible,” he groaned in her ear. “I hope you’re ready.” His hand skimming the length of her body from breast to hip and lower, then back up again, but this time without the chemise between them.

Ready for what? She gasped when his rough, callused hand connected with bare skin. The sensation was incredible. Her skin burned under his wicked touch. His hand dipped between her legs, his fingers sweeping the tender skin along the inside of her thigh.

She froze with embarrassment. Dear Lord. He was going to …

One big fingertip swept the sensitive seam of her dampness. She quivered—with shock or desire, she didn’t know. Her body shuddered for his touch, but the dreamy haze that had surrounded her had started to lift.

“Aye,” he groaned. “You’re ready.

“I can’t wait to make you come,” he whispered. She shuddered, reacting to the wicked tone if not the meaning.

His hands gripped her hips, tilting her back toward him.

Reality returned full force. Something wasn’t right. Could he possibly …?

“Please don’t …” She tried to wriggle away, but froze when her bottom brushed the thick column of his manhood. “Stop.”

“Oh, I won’t,” he said tightly, his voice strained.

His grip on her hips hardened. She felt the thick head of his erection probing her intimately and jerked with panic. “No!” she cried.

But it was too late. In one hard thrust he plunged deep inside her, tearing through her maidenhead. She screamed, feeling as if she’d just been ripped in two.

He stiffened behind her and swore—a crude oath that with what they’d done had just taken on new meaning. Still gripping her hips, he unceremoniously pushed her off him and jumped from the bed as if he’d just been burned.