Page 73 of Bound By Deception

Whispering an oath under his breath, mac Brochan yanked her into his arms again, his mouth capturing hers for another hot, greedy kiss. His tongue stroked hers with a sensual determination that made Bree writhe against him, while his big hands claimed her body. The feel of his callouses against her smooth skin, the heat of him that enveloped her like a furnace, made it difficult for her to form a coherent thought.

She was greedy for him too. For this brief moment in time, the heat between them incinerated the lie she’d woven.

Tearing his mouth from hers, her husband sank down before her, his palms sliding across the sensitive skin of her breasts as he lifted and pushed them together. He then bent his head and drew a nipple deep into the hot cavern of his mouth.

Bree gasped, wet heat pulsing between her thighs. Reaching up, she slid her fingers through his short hair, pushing him against her, demanding more. And he delivered, sucking hard enough to make her sag against him. And then, when that nipple was swollen and aching, he shifted his attention to its twin.

Her eyes fluttered shut, and she let her head settle back against the rough stone wall, giving herself up to sensation.

Meanwhile, his hands continued their exploration of her body, and when they parted her trembling thighs and slid between them, her gasp filled the alcove.

A groan rumbled in his throat, and he ripped his mouth from her breast. “Fuck … you’re so wet.”

Bree whimpered. There was no denying it.

Stroking her with a tenderness that made an ache rise in her chest, he then spread her legs wide, hooking one over his shoulder so that he exposed the tender skin between her thighs to him.

The warmth of his breath feathered over her most intimate place, and Bree steadied herself against the wall with her hands, her fingertips digging into the stone. And just as well too, for an instant later, his mouth found her—and as his tongue flicked, lapped, and circled, Bree bit down on her bottom lip. Pleasure coiled and pulsed between her thighs.

His grip on Bree tightened, and he opened her wider, lifting her against his mouth. Shades, he was relentless, pleasuring her as if it were his life’s purpose. She couldn’t believe they were doing this—and that nothing had ever felt so right. And if his questing tongue wasn’t enough to drive her insane, he sucked her as he had her breasts, before grazing the sensitive pearl of flesh nestled within the petals of her sex with his teeth.

Bree choked back a cry, molten pleasure flooding and twisting through her lower belly and loins as she bucked uncontrollably against him. He continued to lick and suck her through her climax, until she sagged against him, panting.

Breathing hard, mac Brochan released her and climbed to his feet. And as he did, their gazes met once more. The intimacy of the moment made the ache rising under her breastbone intensify. It was too intense to look at him like this, to stare intothe depths of his woad-blue eyes and see her own hunger reflected back at her.

Still struggling to catch her breath, she lowered her gaze, taking in every hard-muscled inch of him until her attention settled upon the huge bulge in his breeches.

Whispering an oath, she reached between them with unsteady hands and stroked the length of it, and when mac Brochan groaned, stepping back so she could touch him properly, hunger clenched low in her belly. Without stopping to consider her actions, she sank down before him and unlaced his breeches.

And this time, he didn’t stop her.

31: BREAKING THE SPELL

DEFTLY, BREE RELEASED his rod from its leather prison. The sight of his shaft, long and thick, straining toward her from a nest of dark hair made need twist deep inside her.

An instant later, she wrapped her fingers around the base of his rod, her other hand cradling his bollocks.

Mac Brochan gave a deep, sensual groan, and encouraged, Bree leaned in, capturing the swollen head of his shaft in her mouth. She then drew him in deep, sucking him enthusiastically.

The chief-enforcer cursed, his voice choked as he tangled his fingers in her hair, urging her on.

Molten heat flared between Bree’s thighs as she worked him, drawing him so deep that he hit the back of her throat. And she’d have taken him over the edge, let him spill in her mouth, if he hadn’t yanked himself back.

“Not yet.” Mac Brochan’s face was all savage angles now, his chest rising and falling sharply. Pulling Bree to her feet, he threw her onto the furs.

Sprawled there, her breathing now coming in ragged gasps, Bree watched her husband heel off his boots and yank down his breeches before kicking them onto the floor.

His shaft, gleaming in the firelight, thrust up proudly before him.

Bree swallowed a groan. The night of their handfasting, when she’d first set eyes on his rod, his size had cowed her. But now, the Ancestors forgive her, she wantedthatinside her.

Later, they’d be enemies once more, but right now, she wanted to be his lover—to forget they were on opposite sides and that this could never happen again.

Crawling onto the furs, mac Brochan spread her thighs wide. He then caught her by the knees and pushed her legs back so that her torso was bent double, exposing her fully as he nestled the head of his swollen rod at her slick entrance.

And then, inch by inch, he sank into her.

As he did so, mac Brochan’s eyelids flickered, the muscle in his jaw flexing, before he ground out a curse.

---