The Hunter (Highland Guard #7)(70)

Oh! He rocked against her again and those strange little flickers started to pulse. She wanted him there. Right there. The thick column of steel wedged high and tight, riding against her.

“Sweet Jesus, you’re driving me wild.” His voice was ragged and tight with restraint.

Janet knew the feeling.

“I want to be inside you,” he whispered in her ear.

She almost cried out with disappointment when he released his hold on her bottom and the sweet pressure went away. But her disappointment lasted only a moment. His hand skimmed over her stomach to cover a breast.

“So soft,” he groaned, squeezing, cupping her gently in his hand. “Your br**sts are incredible. I’ve dreamed of doing this since the first moment I saw you.”

He had?

Janet was glad he didn’t seem to expect a response, as she was having a difficult enough time breathing. The sensations his hands wreaked on her body were commanding all her attention. Instinctively she arched into his hand, having discovered rather quickly that pressure increased the sensations.

But she hadn’t anticipated the feeling of his fingers on her nipple. The rough pad of his thumb over the sensitive, throbbing peak nearly sent her jumping out of her skin again, as another one of those lightning rods sent a flash of energy shooting through what seemed to be every nerve-ending in her body.

He made a harsh sound before his mouth covered hers again.

She sensed he’d reached the end of his rope. His kiss was no longer punishing, but determined. Every stroke of his tongue, every touch of his hands on her body, seemed calculated to increase her passion, to bring her closer and closer to something that hovered just out of her reach.

She shivered with anticipation.

He lifted his head. “Are you cold?”

Aroused beyond measure. She shook her head, managing a breathy, “Hot.”

“Good.” His eyes darkened. “You’re about to be even hotter.”

She shuddered again, hearing the sensual promise in his raspy voice.

He was as good as his word. A moment later when his mouth found her breast, she thought she’d fallen to the fiery bowels of hell, for surely it must be a sin to feel this good.

She cried out as his tongue circled her nipple and he began to suck. Gently at first, and then a little harder, as she arched deeper into his mouth.

The heat. The scrape of his chin. The silky brush of his hair on her skin.

It was too much.

It wasn’t enough.

She started to squirm in frustration, and he finally gave her the relief she unknowingly sought.

His tongue laved and flicked against her nipple at the same time that his fingers brushed between the juncture of her thighs.

She stilled, instinct telling her what he was about to do. She had a moment of panic. Twenty-seven years of maidenhood, of holding on to her chastity like a holy relic, was not relinquished without a small pang of uncertainty. Was this wrong?

Almost as if he’d heard her unspoken question, he lifted his head. Their eyes met, and any uncertainty she had faded in the intensity of emotion she saw mirrored in his gaze.

And then he touched her. There. In the place she’d unknowingly reserved for him for this moment.

Pleasure bloomed from deep inside her like a flower unfurling its velvety petals in the sun, as he held her gaze and stroked her. It was magical. Beautiful. The most natural, perfect thing in the world. How could it be wrong?

The sensations were building faster now, racing at a frantic pace toward a determinable end. And moments later when she looked into his eyes, as he stroked her to the very peak of passion, when her breath caught, her body clenched, and warmth spread over every inch of her, shattering into a blinding light, Janet knew something else: she was very glad she wasn’t a nun.

Ewen was lost the moment he looked into her eyes. Seeing her break apart, watching the passion spread over her face in sensual euphoria, swollen lips parted, cheeks flushed and eyes soft with pleasure, unleashed something inside him that could not be held back.

Lust surged through him, unlike any he’d ever experienced. It was more powerful. More intense. Deeper. It filled not just his cock—which was as hard as a pillar of marble—but his bones, his blood, every inch of his body, including a part of him that he wished it didn’t: his heart.

His need for her was elemental. Like water and food, and the air he breathed, he had to have her.

The last ebb of her release had yet to fade before he had her on the ground, the discarded plaid underneath her.

He fumbled with his braies. Next time, he swore. Next time he would make it perfect. This time he’d be lucky if he lasted a few minutes.

He was out of control, past the point of reason, his body moving on its own command. He didn’t want to let himself think. Blood pounded through his body, in his head. Sweat gathered on his brow. He’d never wanted anything so intensely in his life.

Blissfully cold air hit his hot skin as he released himself from the painfully binding braies. He moved himself into position, levering his body over hers, inches—seconds—from sweet relief.

He was hard as a spike, red and throbbing. Painfully throbbing. I-need-to-come-right-now throbbing. A drop escaped in wicked anticipation.

His teeth clenched. A few more seconds …

He couldn’t wait for that first exquisite moment of contact, when the hot, sensitive tip would meet warm, feminine dampness. He could almost feel her tight and warm around him, a velvety tight glove, gripping … squeezing … milking. His bu**ocks clenched.