Page 40 of Taken By the Devilish Highlander
“Archer,” she cried out, and she heard his low chuckle. He circled the spot, his eyes locked on her face as he flickedhis finger over it, then started a steady rhythm. Feya felt something building in her stomach, a pressing need she couldn’t understand. She reached out for him, desperate to touch him, and found his bicep next to her, where he held himself up on his elbow.
“What is it?” he teased, as Feya’s moans began to match her breaths. She squeezed his arm, feeling the muscles of her legs tense.
“Don’t stop,” she begged, knowing something instinctual inside of herself. She could feel her body responding, building to something that promised more pleasure.
But then Archer pulled away, leaving her confused, a surge of anger suddenly flooding her flushed body. She glanced over to see why he had pulled away, only to see Archer moving. He stood from the bed, and she had a flash of his naked body standing in front of her. Her eyes dropped unabashedly to the space between his legs, where she saw his size.
It was at once impressive and intimidating. The image of Archer, so powerful as he stood over her, brought some sense back to her brain. Now that his fingers weren’t working their magic, she could suddenly see what they were on the verge of. But even before she had time to contemplate, Archer leaned down, his hungry expression now full of tenderness.
“I willnae take ye, lass,” he said, his hand resting on her chin. “Not until ye ask it of me. This is your medicine, remember?”
He raised his eyebrows before striding to the foot of the bed. She couldn’t breathe as she saw him climb over her, kneeling between her legs. He put his hands beneath her thighs and urged her to scoot upward, helping her settle into the pillows. She looked down shyly, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as Archer leaned down, pushing her skirt up to her waist.
She squirmed, feeling both eager and far too exposed. She couldn’t pull her eyes away from Archer as he brought his mouth to the inside of her knee. He kissed gently, one hand along the outside of her leg the other rising higher, reaching the same spot he had found earlier. Feya’s breath came fast as his mouth moved up to her inner thigh.
His fingers found that most sensitive spot, and she reached her arms above her head, looking for anything she could hold on to. As she peered down her own body, she saw Archer’s amused expression as he kissed his way up, closer and closer to where his fingers worked. It was only then that Feya understood what he was doing, and she held her breath as Archer’s mouth hovered over her.
His warm breath made her shiver with anticipation, and then, before she had a chance to beg, his mouth dropped down and his tongue was suddenly pressing against her. She cried out, unable to control herself, though she didn’t care who heard her. This felt too wonderful to hold anything back. Her fingers grabbed the bedpost, and she held on as Archer’s tongue pressed and licked with more urgency.
Feya dug her heels into the mattress as she squeezed her eyes closed, tension building deep in her stomach. She held on to the sensation, allowing herself to fall deeper and deeper into the pleasure as her body built toward something. Archer’s tongue circled and pressed, and she felt fingers on her inner thigh. His other hand rode up her body, finding her lower back which he pulled closer to his mouth.
“Keep going,” she cried, suddenly afraid he might pull away. Feya knew she couldn’t handle that, that she needed to understand where all this pressure in her body was leading. She pushed her hips against his mouth, and soon his fingers at her thigh trailed higher, shocking her as they teased at her opening.
Feya’s eyes flew open, and she stared down as she felt Archer’s finger press inside of her. Her whole body tightened around that sensation, her body instinctually holding on to him.
His mouth locked around her, and his finger pulled out, then pushed back in, suddenly moving with a rhythm she couldn’t handle. Feya cried out as she crashed into an overwhelming feeling of pleasure. Her legs shook around Archer’s head, and she released her hands from where they gripped the bed. Her whole body seemed to flood with warmth, and she lost herself to the waves of pleasure she felt down to her toes.
Archer continued to move, but he did so languidly, more gently. He knew how to ride the ups and downs with her, backing off and applying pressure at just the right moments as he drew out the incredible feelings he had pulled out of her. Feya relaxed into the bed with a sensation of floating, and Archer slowly backedaway, the memory of his perfect mouth and those skillful fingers still strong in Feya’s mind.
She watched him through half-closed eyes as he backed off the bed. He stared down with a look that was at once satisfied and hungry, and Feya knew he wanted more, but that he would never take it from her. She was hit then with an overwhelming feeling of exhaustion, every sinew of her body perfectly relaxed. Feya’s eyes fluttered closed, and she dropped into a satisfied sleep.
20
“Ye are awake.”
She heard the voice in her dream, something deep and inviting that made her face grow warm. Next, she felt the press of a clean pillow against her cheek and the tangled sheets around her legs. She arched her back to stretch in the comfortable bed, trying to place herself in time and space. What day was it? And why did the bed smell like Archer, the hint of sweat and something woodsy flooding her nostrils?
She sat up quickly, remembering all at once where she was. She blinked into a darkened room, her eyes adjusting to the dim light of twilight. Nearby, on a chair set at the foot of the bed, Archer sat, watching her. He was fully dressed, far more covered up than Feya would have wished, one ankle resting on his knee, a book in his hand.
As the sheets fell down her body, Feya saw that her bodice was still untied, her chest still exposed. She squeaked and quickly brought her arm across her chest, covering herself.
“Too late for that, lass,” he chuckled. “Besides, they’re far too beautiful to cover up.”
She blushed, feeling the heat rush all the way to her ears. Feya set to work fixing her bodice, pulling the strings tight until her chest was covered. She felt Archer’s eyes on her the whole time, his gaze at once exciting and unnerving.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. With a glance outside the window, she realized she had slept for a few hours. It looked like it was evening and, from the grumble of her stomach, likely dinner time.
“Daenae apologize,” Archer said evenly. “It was the best afternoon I’ve had in a long while.”
She smiled at him, though she was having trouble meeting his eyes. Flashes of what he had done to her, the sensations he had elicited, kept coming into her mind. She remembered how she had cried out, how she had lost herself completely.
She looked at the floor and kicked her legs to the edge of the bed before standing up quickly. She was embarrassed to have fallen asleep, but suddenly more uncertain about the way she had handled herself in his bed. For all of her experience with healing, Feya wasn’t knowledgeable about the ways of men and women. What if she had done something wrong?
He sensed her hesitation immediately, and Archer jumped to his feet. In two steps he was in front of her, her fingers lifting her chin so she would meet his eyes.
“Are ye alright?” he asked.
He said it with such tenderness that all of Feya’s fears disappeared. She nodded slowly, letting her eyes roam over his still damp hair, those gentle eyes, his dark beard.
