Page 40 of The Story of his Highland Bride
“Are ye havin’ doubts?”
She opened her eyes again, peering up into his worried gaze. “Doubts are the last thing on my mind,” she told him. “I’ve fallen in love with you, Jackson. This is… what I want.”
“I’ve fallen in love with ye, too,” he replied softly, pressing a sensual kiss to her lips as he rolled his hips back and forth, teasing her. Some sensitivity still remained, and every slick stroke of his manhood against her pulsing nub made her shiver with delight.
Her legs wrapped around his waist, and as his lips sought the curve of her neck, and his hips rocked back, she felt him. All of him.
Slowly, he eased himself inside her, her fingernails digging deeper into his flesh as a strangled cry escaped her throat. He was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. He filled her up entirely, but he didn’t rely on size to please her, his first stroke gentle and considerate. In fact, she was the one desperate for the next thrust, as he stilled inside her, to let her grow accustomed to the sensation.
“Are ye in pain?” he asked, his voice throaty with desire.
She shook her head, gasping, “The opposite.”
“Are ye certain?” He didn’t move a muscle, infuriating and delighting Eloise in equal measure.
“I’m certain,” she rasped. “I want you, Jackson. I want you.”
With a smile and a kiss to her parted mouth, he rolled his hips back, withdrawing until too little of him remained. A second later, he sank back to where he belonged, Eloise’s legs locking tighter around his waist as if they were determined to hold him there.
They moved together like they were made for each other, her hips rising to meet every measured stroke, their hands exploring warm skin, their bodies united far beyond the physical. His lips caught her gasps of bliss, her mouth absorbed the vibration of his moans, their every sense attuned to one another, their ecstasy in complete harmony.
It was far greater than anything she could’ve imagined, and she’d imagined this a great deal since their first kiss in the hallway outside the Feasting Hall, and likely before then, too. She realized, with a coy smile, that if this was what it was supposed to feel like, then she’d never really gone to bed with anyone before. It warmed her to think of him as her first, but without all of the awkwardness and doubt of a first experience.
“Yes, Jackson!” she called out, as he rolled them onto their sides, hooking her leg over his arm as he plunged deeper into her.
She ran her hands through his hair, bringing his head to her neck to feel his kiss on her throat, while her body swayed to his lead, needing more of him, needing every bit of him. And he gave it with a passion that transcended the world around them, lifting them both to a heaven of their own making, where only they existed in paradise.
If Eloise had just been able to hold onto that feeling, she knew she’d have been able to overcome any obstacle that came their way. She’d have elbowed Father Hepburn again, hitting him so hard that he rethought his entire life and calling; she’d have given the Old Gods a stern talking to, ensuring that they let her pass back and forth between her time and Jackson’s whenever she pleased; she’d have written her next book in a week flat, handing it triumphantly to Harriet with the words, “By the way, the story has changed. Hope you don’t mind.” She’d have done a lot of things, but power like that couldn’t last.
“Ye’ve bewitched me,” Jackson panted, as he gripped his arm around her and lifted her up, sitting her back down into his lap without ever breaking their union. “I cannae get enough of ye, Love. Me mind craves ye, me body craves ye, and me heart longs for ye.”
She wrapped herself around him as her hips ebbed and flowed, taking the lead, riding the deep moans out of his chest. “There’ll never be anyone else,” she replied, as much to herself as to him. “There couldn’t be, after you.”
“That’s why I’ll wait forever,” he growled, dipping his head to draw her nipple into his mouth, making her cry out and buck in his lap. “I never wanted… love before, and I willnae… want it after, if it cannae be… with ye.”
It was a tormenting thought, lost in the throes of their passion. Both were young, yet they were resigning themselves to lives of solitude, if they couldn’t have each other. A bittersweet promise,though only time would tell if they’d keep it. She’d know, if she searched his name, while he would never find out.
Fighting away anything that wasn’t Jackson, in that moment, Eloise braced her hands against his shoulders and moved faster, exerting herself until she was back in paradise. He seemed to have the same thought as his hand slipped between them, his fingertips seeking out her hidden nub.
“Oh, my love,” she purred in delirium, arching her neck back as he devoured her throat with fierce kisses, his free hand splayed up her spine, holding her through her wild abandon.
His touch ignited fires that had only been embers until then, stoking an inferno of ecstasy that had her mind swirling and her limbs trembling. She was too hot, burning up with the desire she held for Jackson. It drove her on, moving quicker and quicker, clinging onto him like everything depended on it. All the while, he strummed her secret nub, knowing every bit of what she liked, and what could propel her straight into her conclusion.
All of a sudden, delicious delirium seized her. Her mind flooded with light, her heart about to burst, her stomach tightening, pulling her entire being taut. She squeezed her eyes shut, her mouth parting in a scream of pure ecstasy that must’ve awoken the entire castle, but she didn’t care who heard; she only cared about what she and Jackson were feeling, together.
A moment later, a stirring moan slipped from Jackson’s lips, building into a roar as he grasped her behind with his free hand and plunged into her twice more, before his body froze with thesurge of his own climax. She felt the pulse of him, deep within her, matching the pulse of her body. And as he bit her shoulder lightly, the throb of him sparked a smaller wave that crested in her abdomen, sending wavelets up into her chest until her entire being tingled afresh.
In the wake of their mutual end, Eloise collapsed into him, letting her hold him tightly. She nuzzled into his neck, trailing lazy kisses across his fiery skin, so satisfied she could barely think.
“Ye must be a witch,” he murmured, finding her mouth. “Only a witch could wield that kind of magic.”
She chuckled. “For the last time, I’m not a witch.”
“I ken.” He grinned. “But ye’re still made of magic, so far as I’m concerned.”
She held his face, admiring the shine in his eyes and the color in his cheeks. “Then you must be a warlock.”
“A what?”
