Joanna's Highlander (Highland Protector #2)(25)

Grant smiled, then treated her to a chaste, caring kiss across the seam of her mouth. While nibbling his way down to suck her right nipple deep in his mouth, he slid a hand between their bodies and began a slow, tantalizing massage of Joanna’s clitoris.

Joanna dug her nails into Grant’s shoulders. He hadn’t made her swear she wouldn’t claw him up during this process. Let’s see if he could stay quiet while she did that.

After thoroughly sucking Joanna’s right nipple until she thought she’d surely have to violate the silent-and-no-movement agreement, Grant rocked back and arched his hips upward. “Ye may hang on to the bars and ride for a wee bit, mo ghaol tòidheach, my fiery love. But ye still must not come or cry out until I give ye leave.”

Bars. Ride. Quiet. Hell yes. Joanna leaned forward, grabbed hold of the sturdy iron bars that the delightful Miss Martha had installed in a fit of rage, and rocked hard and fast. Oh shit. Can’t do that. I’ll come for sure. She froze.

“If ye come, I’ll be sorely displeased with ye.”

Joanna vehemently shook her head. When she made a deal, she damn well kept it.

Grant smiled, pulled downward on her nipples at the same time, then kissed both her breasts. He slid his hands down to her ass, spread her cheeks, and thrust upward hard. “Aye, lass. We’re matched well, you and I,” he whispered. “Soon,” he promised. “I swear t’ye. My control canna take much more.”

Thank God for that! Joanna released the bars and spread her hands across Grant’s chest. This couldn’t be a mistake. Anything this good couldn’t be all bad. Right? Yes. Abso-fuckin-lutely right. She grinned at the wicked thought, leaned down, and branded Grant with a claiming kiss of her own. Then she seductively stretched, arched her back, and started rocking. Yeah…she was supposed to sit still, but this cock was made for motion. Damnation. Best ride in the park.

Suddenly, Grant stood, one arm under her ass to keep her well fitted down on his cock, the other arm around her shoulders. “Even though ye cheated a wee bit…” Grant slowly lowered her to the floor, then propped his hands on either side of her head. “?’Tis time, lass,” he whispered, low and deadly. “I mean t’claim ye. Claim ye for m’verra own. Yer mine, lass. Mine alone.”

Claim. His. Hell. Yes. Joanna raked her fingernails down Grant’s sides and arched her back, struggling to pant out words into coherent sentences. “The bed. I can clear it. Yes? Easier on the knees.”

Grant took hold of Joanna’s wrists and pinned them to the floor over her head. “M’knees dinna cause me concern.” He leaned down, nuzzled the side of her face, then spoke in a tone strained and rasping with slipping control. “Now, love. ’Tis time. Forevermore yer mine.”

And then he pounded and drove into Joanna with a force and passion she’d never known.

Her world exploded in sensory bliss. Wave upon wave of excruciating pleasure washed across her as Grant hammered harder and drove deeper with a rumbling growl.

World spinning, Joanna gave herself over to mind-numbing ecstasy, coming hard, then coming again in rapid succession. Off in the distance, Joanna thought she heard a scream. A familiar scream. Then she realized why the scream sounded so familiar.

It was hers.





Chapter 8


“So…” Grant’s mother stood beside the MacDaras’ housekeeper, Miss Lydia Higgins, who was more like family, quite grandmotherly in fact. Arms crossed and fingers drumming atop her sleeve, Sarinda gave Miss Lydia a smug look that Grant knew all too well. “So, Ramsay and Ross tell me we’re about t’meet the one woman who could quite possibly tame this braw beastie son o’ mine. Can ye believe that, Lydia?”

“Is that so?” Miss Lydia replied in a singsong tone that grated on Grant’s nerves. “Then it’s a good thing we decided to take Joanna Martin’s group off her hands again today. She can spend the entire day with Grant and start teaching him to heel.” She poked Grant with her elbow and gave him a serious scowl. “Don’t screw this up, boy.”

He was too tired for these two and their teasing games. He’d left Joanna’s bed but a scant hour or so ago, and barely made it back to the park in time to shower and don fresh clothing before Joanna and her tour group arrived for their second full day at Highland Life and Legends.

Both Sarinda and Miss Lydia, on the other hand, were obviously looking forward to spending time with their special guests again today and had taken the opportunity to clothe themselves in the period dress of Highland women ready to go about their daily chores—yarn dyeing, in fact. They had a full day planned for the Alverest Knitting Chicks and Textiles Club and in Grant’s opinion, they looked entirely too damned pleased with themselves and the plot they’d cooked up betwixt them.

“That’s quite enough, thank ye.” Grant raked his still wet hair back from his face and secured it into a tangled ponytail knotted at the base of his skull. “I’m in no mood for either of ye nor yer infernal nettlin’. The both of ye need t’find someone else t’poke.”

“Dinna use that tone with me, boy. Ye ken good and well how to speak to yer mother.” Sarinda stretched as tall as her petite, barely five-foot frame allowed and gave him a look that still had the effect of making him tighten his buttocks in preparation of getting his arse tanned.