Page 76 of Taken By the Ruthless Highlander
“My Laird, please,” Morgana squealed as she thrashed about.
It was no use. No matter how violently she tossed her body about, Ryder’s grip would not budge.
By the time he had crested the ridge of the garden, he had grown rather fond of her squirming. He couldn’t help but wonder if she’d squirm like that as he took her.
The idea caused his body to respond with an urgency he couldn’t contain.
“Ye promised to stay. Ye’re bein’ a bad lass by goin’ and doin’ the things I told ye nae to do,” Ryder chided as he pushed through the kitchen door.
His eyes narrowed on the cook sitting at the table. At his stern glare and the jerk of his head, the cook bolted from the table and out of the kitchen.
Now that they were alone, Ryder had no other excuse. All that remained was the hard, raw passion consuming him as if he were a log in a fire.
“I’m sorry, please,” Morgana gasped as he set her on the table and tossed her skirts over her knees. Her eyes widened as he disappeared under the layers of fabric.
It was in there that he felt safe. In the space between her legs was his comfort and tranquility.
He pulled in quick, shallow breaths as his lips caressed the tender skin of her thighs. He loved the way her body twitched and quivered, but it was the fact that she wore nothing under her skirts that pleased him the most. Had she been expecting him to take her?
How many times had the thought tormented him.
“Please what?” Ryder asked as he raised his head from between her legs.
Morgana reclined on her back and stared up at the ceiling. The wooden table creaked as she shifted. Ryder watched her hips buck and shimmy as his fingers stroked her bare skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
“If ye want me to forgive ye, ye’re goin’ to have to try harder.”
“Ryder,” Morgana moaned.
Ryder slid a finger inside her, coaxing another moan from her.
“It’s Laird McKenzie,” he growled. “And ye’re nae to find pleasure.”
“Och, but I am,” Morgana gasped, her back arching.
Ryder slid and curled his finger inside her as if there were secret buttons that he could flip on and off. A flush rose up her neck as he leaned over her. Oh, how he wanted to taste her.
Pausing a hairsbreadth from her lips, he studied her face as it contorted with each thrust of his finger.
“I want more,” she begged. “I need more.”
“Nae this time,” Ryder grunted, his manhood throbbing against his leg and brushing his woolen kilt. “Ye think I’m about to give ye what ye want? Sorry, My Lady, but ye’re sorely mistaken.”
“I’m nae the one who will be sore later,” Morgana breathed, her lips twitching.
Her threat gave him pause.
“Ye really are a minx,” he grumbled, causing her lips to curl into a wide smile.
His longing and yearning turned into a need he couldn’t explain. It was more than him wanting to dive into the core of her being and lose himself in her embrace. He wanted to fill her with everything that he had.
He tore at the laces keeping her corset together, but his frustration only grew when he found he had tightened the knots.
“Hold still,” he huffed, pulling his dirk. The metal glinted in the silver light of the moon, causing Morgana’s eyes to widen.
With a flick of his wrist, the tight corset fell away, releasing the hostages he so desperately wanted. He plunged into his victory with glee, suckling and kneading as he pumped his finger into her. Her hips rose and fell with each thrust.
Oh, how he wanted to be inside her, filling her and stretching her. He wanted to roll her onto her stomach and bury himself inside her as the sounds of her pleasure echoed off the kitchen walls.
