Page 77 of Taken By the Devilish Highlander
“Back in the barn,” he said, his eyes locked on her breasts. “Ye asked me for something.”
“Aye,” Feya said. Her fingers reached out, dancing against his thighs, moving closer and closer to his erection. Archer could hardly breathe, and he heard his heart pounding in his chest as he waited for those soft fingers to brush against him. “Ye told me it was meant for the man I will love.”
“Aye,” he said. Finally, Feya’s fingers found him, whispering against the skin. Archer returned the touch, running a finger up Feya’s thigh and then higher, where he slipped into her eagerness, eliciting a moan. Feya squeezed her eyes together as he started to stroke her, and he worried she would forget their conversation entirely. But a moment later, she opened her eyes.
“I love ye,” she said. Her hand closed around his length. “And I want this. I’m asking for it.”
“Umm,” he said, relaxing into the feeling of her warm fingers around him. He couldn’t take it much longer. He couldn’t hold back. “Then ye shall have it.”
He shifted to straddle her, dropping his mouth down to kiss her as he guided himself to her opening. She stiffened at the sensation, her eyes popping open at the slightest touch. Archer held back a smirk, placing a kiss on her cheek.
“I love ye, dear one,” he whispered. “I cannae deny ye.”
And then he pushed his hips forward, sparks igniting in his toes as he felt Feya close around him.
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She cried out as he entered her, overwhelmed with the strength of him, the way he filled her so completely. He moved slowly at first, brushing hair away from her forehead as he held her gaze, seeking out any hint of pain.
“Are ye alright?” he asked, and Feya had to find her voice, had to press through the haze of sensations to actually speak. She had never felt anything like this before, and suddenly, she never wanted it to end.
“Keep going,” she gasped, and somewhere above her, she heard Archer chuckle. He pulled his hips back tantalizingly slowly. Feya pressed her eyes closed, overwhelmed with the pleasure that was now coursing through her like waves. She gripped the sheets in her fists as he pulled out most of the way, only to push himself forward again.
“Archer,” she cried, unable to hold back, and his mouth was suddenly on her neck and up to her ear.
“I love making ye scream,” he growled, and he thrust forward, picking up speed. His hand went to her breast, and he pulled at her nipple, setting her whole body on fire. Feya ran her hands up his arms, delighting in the strength of him, the size of this man who dwarfed her in this bed.
Archer grabbed her thigh and held her tight as he pushed in and out of her, finding a perfect rhythm. She couldn’t stop the small gasps of pleasure he elicited with every push, a shock of bliss every time he filled her completely. And then his other hand moved to the space between her legs, and his thumb began rubbing.
“Oh,” she cried, and she looked up in surprise, only to see his determined glance. He was eager to bring her pleasure, clearly determined to show her exactly what he could do to her. She relaxed into him, letting Archer take control. His length worked inside of her, even as his hand teased and rubbed. Tension built deep in her stomach, and Feya pressed her heels into the bed, every muscle stiffening.
“That’s it,” he said, but he sounded far away. “Good lass.”
It was like jumping off a cliff or crashing into a wave. She exploded around him, lost to the sensations that pulsed in her stomach, between her legs, down to her toes. Her body squeezed around Archer’s length, and he grunted in pleasure, his hand dropping away from her, as Feya’s hips lifted from the bed. She saw colors behind her eyelids, and then she heard Archer’s cry, felt him pull out of her as he found his own release.
He rested on hands and knees above her, gasping, and Feya did her best to regain her breath, to come back down from the euphoria she had just experienced. Archer’s large frame crashed down beside her, equally spent, and her body rolled closer to him, where she curled up into his chest. Their legs tangled into one another, and Feya pressed her forehead against his warm skin.
“Are ye alright?” he whispered into her hair, and Feya nodded.
“More than alright,” she told him. “But what about ye? Did I hurt ye?”
Now that they had satisfied their desires for one another, her worry about Archer’s injuries returned. But Archer’s chest rose and fell with laughter.
“Ye could never hurt me, love. Though I do think we may have opened up some of these stitches.”
She gasped, horrified to hear this, but Archer wrapped his arm around her, holding her exactly where she was.
“It barely hurts,” he assured her. “One more scar willnae kill me. Besides, I’d like to remember this night for a good long time.”
He placed a kiss on Feya’s head, and she relaxed against him, warm and content with Archer’s love. They were quiet for a moment, and just as Feya felt the welcome comfort of sleep, she was woken again by Archer’s laugh.
“What is it?’ she asked, catching his joy even though she couldn’t read his thoughts.
“I was thinking of tomorrow, when Holly helps ye stitch me up again.”
“And that’s funny?” Feya asked.
“Aye,” he chuckled. “It will be when I tell heryeare responsible.”
