Page 59 of Taken By the Devilish Highlander
“Your mouth,” he said, staring down at her. “I want to feel your mouth.”
He pulled her up to position her at the top of his length, stretched halfway up his abdomen. Feya gave him a tentative kiss, and Archer let out a hiss of air, overwhelmed by the gentle sensation. Then, instinctively understanding what he needed, she opened her mouth and pushed her lips over him.
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He gritted his teeth and held his breath, shocked by how good this felt. He had to hold himself back, keep himself from exploding at this first touch of Feya’s mouth wrapped around him. Her tongue cradled him as she pressed down, taking him only a few inches, and then she pulled back. Archer kept his hand in her hair, gently guiding her back down, though he wouldn’t force her to go further than she wanted to.
This time, she took him a bit deeper, and he felt her gaining confidence, quickly learning how this was meant to go. He didn’t think he could grow any harder, but his body responded to her touch, and Archer reached down to hold himself, guiding his erection to Feya’s lips.
“Good girl,” he growled as she pushed down again. She picked up her pace, moving up and down, and her enthusiasm was intoxicating. He knew he wouldn’t last. He could already feel pressure building, that desperation to reach his finish and find release.
As she pushed her lips down, he rocked his hips ever so slightly, increasing the sensation. Her hair fell around her face, brushing against his stomach and his legs, but he made sure he could see her. He was alert for any signs of hesitation, for anything that told him Feya wanted to stop. But every cue Feya sent showed him she was enjoying this, that she was eager for it.
Her fingers brushed against his hand, still holding his length, and suddenly her hand was replacing his. Archer leaned back as her hand and her mouth worked together, picking up pace, and he pressed his head back, surrendering to Feya’s ministrations. It only took a few seconds, and he was on the edge, pushing toward an ending he couldn’t hold back.
“Feya,” he cried out, and he pulled her off him, guiding her away in just enough time for him to turn to his side, to erupt into his pleasure. He held himself as he crashed over the edge, squeezing his eyes tight as he found a relief that had eluded him for weeks. His muscles tensed and relaxed as he rode out the feeling, forgetting everything except the glorious feeling of release.
He came back to reality slowly, hearing the birds in the trees and the gentle breeze on his sweaty skin. When he opened his eyes, Feya was there, her face close to his. She smirked at him, looking both satisfied and pleased with herself.
“Did I do alright?” she asked.
Archer laughed and pulled her into him, cradling her in his arms.
“Aye,” he whispered into her ear. “Ye are a quick learner.”
“I could try again,” she said, and she started to turn, but Archer held her tight, a deep chuckle in his chest.
“Ye may be ready, dear one, but I need some time to recover. I cannae move as fast as ye.”
“Oh,” she said.
“A fault in man’s design,” he mused, pressing his nose into her hair. Feya sighed and pushed her body into him, rocking her hips ever so slightly. He couldn’t help but smile at her voracious appetite. “Luckily, a plight women do not need to suffer through.”
He ran a hand down her body and pulled at her thighs. Feya moaned in agreement and delight as she opened her legs. She turned her body eagerly to his skilled fingers, letting Archer feel exactly how ready she was for a second round.
Their clothes were still damp when they dressed, but afternoon was turning to dusk, and they needed to head back. He smiled when Feya ducked behind the tree to put her dress on, amused by her modesty after their earlier activities. When she came out of the woods, she was laced up and proper, her hair tied back in a braid.
Archer was dressed as well, tying up his boots as he remembered the sensations of the past few hours. And yet, it was clear something had changed. He was certain they were both thinking about returning to the castle and about their impending departure. Only two more days and Feya would return to her family.
“I have one more thing to show ye,” she said as they finished packing up the basket. Archer pulled the blanket from the ground and shook it out, sending dirt and small sticks into the air.
“There’s more?”
Feya turned and led him away from this peaceful spot, and all Archer wanted was to pull her back, to kiss her one more time. But he stopped himself. She was going home, and there was no more denying it.
He followed her with the basket, surprised when she took a turn in a new direction. They were walking parallel to the castle, no longer making a clear path toward home. The trees were denser here, blocking the sunlight, and they had to push branches aside to make their way through the forest.
“Are ye lost, lass?” he teased, but as soon as he said it, they stepped into a clearing. It was a wide-open space, with sunlight streaming down onto lush grass and deep purple wildflowers. The beauty stopped him for a moment, and Feya held out her hand to him, guiding him forward.
He let himself be led to a long stretch of freshly turned earth, where someone had cleared out a space for planting. There, buried in the ground, were dozens of saplings, looking small and vulnerable in this expansive space.
“Did ye plant these?” he asked. Archer bent down to get a closer look, observing the small green leaves sprouting from sturdy stalks.
“Holly helped me,” she admitted. “Did ye ken she plants a tree every time a bairn is born in the village?”
He looked down the long row of saplings and back at Feya.
“It must have been a busy summer for the women of the village,” he remarked, but Feya laughed at this, shaking her head.
