Joanna's Highlander (Highland Protector #2)(38)
Joanna scrubbed her feet together, trying to kick free of her knotted pants and panties. Dammit! I’m tangled up. She slid her hand to Grant’s chest and gently pushed him away. “I need a little help. You’ve got my ankles tied together.”
Grant looked down at her with a wicked grin. “Aye, lass. And tied up is the way ye’ll stay.” He stepped back and flipped her over onto her stomach, bare ass in the air. He playfully nipped and bit across the fullness of her butt cheeks while teasing his fingertips across her drenched slit in the process.
Joanna shuddered, stretching to grab hold of the other edge of the counter while grinding her mons against the cold hardness of the granite edge at the tops of her legs. She wriggled, trying to spread her legs wider and hike her rear into Grant’s hand. She needed relief. Cock or fingers. She didn’t care which, but she needed something now. “Please—I need…”
Grant bent over her and swept her hair aside. Pressing his long, hard length along the crack of her ass, he rained nipping kisses along her shoulder and up to her ear. “What d’ye need, lass?” he whispered, hunger echoing in his rasping tone. “Tell me.”
Joanna bucked, the cold, hard counter beneath her growing hotter by the minute. She wriggled her butt against Grant, straining to spread her thighs. “You. Please. Now.”
“As ye wish,” Grant said as he slid his cock in between her folds and slowly, with a teasing gyration of his body, buried himself to the hilt.
“Yes!” Joanna gasped and arched, hanging on to the edge of the counter until her knuckles popped. The tight wet fullness. The pulsing heat. Just a few more strokes. “Please, you’ve got to move for me. Now!”
“Aye, m’love. Aye!” He hammered hard and fast, the fronts of his thighs slapping against the backs of her legs as he drove as deep as he could go.
Just three strokes in, Joanna’s world exploded into body-shaking bliss. A shriek ripped free of her throat as she arched her back and reared up on the counter, stretching into the best yoga cobra pose she’d ever achieved and holding it while orgasmic lightning crashed through her in excruciatingly delightful waves.
Grant pounded faster, then dove in deep and stayed, pressing his forehead between her shoulder blades as his body tensed and pulsed inside her. Holding her where her legs joined her body, he suddenly straightened, yanked her hard back against him, then roared something unintelligible that echoed to the rafters.
So, this is what it feels like to be suspended in time. Joanna smiled at the first coherent thought making its way through the after-orgasm fog. She relaxed her arms and sprawled across the counter. Grant groaned one last time, then fell forward on top of her, body heaving as he gasped to catch his breath.
A shrill, ear-splitting beep peeled out, shattering the moment and managing to yank Joanna out of her delicious euphoria. She stirred under Grant, shifted to the side, then lifted her head and sniffed. Her eyes popped open. Shit! Smoke.
“Grant! The cornbread!”
Chapter 12
Two quick beeps of the horn and Carolina Adventures’ sleek black shuttle bus rolled out of the park, headed for the bed-and-breakfast with a load of extremely hung-over senior citizens.
Grant smiled and raised his hand in farewell. For the first time in a very long time, as a matter of fact for the first time since they’d arrived in this accursed century, he felt a sense of peace—and maybe even a little anticipation.
“Do ye no’ think ’tis time ye took the girl before the Heartstone and sought its advice? Ye’ve finally made her yer own. ’Tis time to seek the blessing in person and tell the lass the MacDara history.”
Dwyn MacKay. The nosy, redheaded demigod determined to be a thorn in every MacDara’s arse. Long ago, the goddesses ordained him as guide to all the druid clans—guardian to them, in fact. Grudgingly, Grant admitted that without Dwyn’s help with acclimating to the twenty-first century after they’d first arrived—and even now after they’d been here sixteen years—the MacDaras’ survival in this strange time wouldha been questionable.
“Ignorin’ me will do ye no good, ye ken? Ye best answer me, boy.”
“Go away, ye old bastard,” Grant replied without turning around. “Ye ken good and well how I feel about the Heartstone and its druthers.” The damn stone and the meddlin’ goddesses were as responsible for the murder of his precious Leannan and their unborn child just as surely as if they’d been the ones that had slit her throat. He’d had little to do with the stone and the goddesses since that terrible day. He didna care if his soul was headed for certain damnation. His heart had already been there for well over a decade.
Dwyn stepped up and stood beside him. The wiry demigod wore his usual attire of an expensive three-piece suit complete with a gold watch chain and starched handkerchief peeping out of the breast pocket. While larger than life when it came to personality, in his physical form, Dwyn was dwarfed by Grant’s size. His bushy red brows knotted above his narrowed eyes in a furious scowl and he clasped his hands to the small of his back. He glared up at Grant with an impatient sideways glance. “The stone doesna set nor choose yer fate, lad. It merely guides us and shows us the proper path for the good of all concerned. Remember yer teachings, aye?”
“I dinna give a damn about the good of all concerned. I’m no longer a protector. Remember?”