Page 54 of Her Highlander's Darkest Temptation
Donall rose to his knees and stripped off his kilt, then tossed it to the side, revealing his erect member, tipped with a small pearl of fluid. He dragged his thumb over the tip, his expression darkening with desire as he did so, then glided the same thumb over her entrance, sliding between the lips of her sex to mingle his fluids with hers.
The sharp, hot spike of desire that shot from sex to core took her by surprise. Lydia jolted, her hips rolling upward in an uncontrolled movement that made Donall smile. “Och, so ready fer me again already, lass?”
Donall’s hands caressed her thighs, leaving trails of heat across her skin, until he reached her sex. Then he rocked his hips forward, and Lydia gasped as she felt the engorged head of his shaft press into her moisture slickened folds.
Donall eased the tip of his shaft inside her, then rolled himself forward, sliding a little deeper as he moved to cover her body with his own, arms on either side of her shoulders, as he kissed her and pressed slowly inside her.
The pressure burned, the sense of being stretched and filled a delicious, heady blend of pleasure and pain that made Lydia whimper and clutch at him, trying to arch up to take him deeper. Donall was a man of iron control, however, and he controlled the pace, moving so slowly that she wanted to scream.
She felt him press against the barrier of her maidenhead, the slight resistance, and Donall smiled grimly. “I thought I might be yer first…” He bent his head to whisper in a low, growling voice into her ear. “An’ I’m honored tae be so… if ye want me tae be…”
All she could do was nod. His kiss burned against the point of her jaw, the nip of his teeth against her earlobe sparking through her so surprisingly that she almost didn’t feel the sharp sting as he pressed forward and through the barrier, breaching her maidenhead. It stung for a moment, then faded into thesensations of his lips on her throat, on her breasts, then kissing her again as he resumed pressing his rigid length inside her, until their hips were pressed together, his bollocks a soft pressure against her buttocks.
She had thought the feel of his fingers inside her was overwhelming. But this? None of the stories she’d heard the servants exchanging in whispers had mentioned this.
Every thrust sent a wave of heat and pleasure through her, heightened by her body, still so sensitive after her first climax. Lydia felt she was drowning in sensation, clutching Donall’s arms as an anchor, watching his face as they moved together on the bed.
Her whole body was quivering, muscles tensing and shivering in a way she thought she recognized. Lydia gasped. “Donall…”
“Come fer me lass. I want tae feel ye fall apart around me…” The hoarse words whispered into her ear, just before Donall moved, and one hand tweaked the peak of her taut, sensitive breast, teasing and rolling the nipple in a way that sent sparks straight to her groin.
Lydia cried out, back arching as lightning blazed behind her eyes. Pleasure exploded through her body, her inner walls clenching hard around Donall’s shaft as her release caught her up.
Donall grunted, fists clenching under her hands, body stiffening, and she felt the surge of heat and fluid as his release pumped deep inside her.
The last thing she felt, before lassitude claimed her and dragged her into a pleasant darkness, was Donall’s arms around her, his warm weight settling against her back as they both succumbed to sleep in the aftermath of their shared delight in each other.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Donall woke slowly, every muscle relaxed to the point of feeling boneless, and his head clearer than it had been in far longer than he cared to remember. For the first time in ages, his temples weren’t throbbing with the effects of too little sleep or too much mead.
I slept through the night. Without nightmares. Without ill dreams o’ any sort. Nay memories haunting me in me sleep. How?
The warm weight pinning his right arm shifted, and soft strands of hair tickled his nose, forcing him to twist his head to avoid sneezing and waking the bed’s other occupant.
In his arms, Lydia curled close against him, her expression soft and serene in sleep. Donall watched the rise and fall of her chest, the gentle sway of her breasts with every inhalation, and tried to wrap his thoughts around the truth that lay clear before him.
Lydia.
He had declared his feelings for her. He’d expected her to shrink away, and she had not. He had kissed her, and she had responded. And then, they’d come to his bedchambers… and now here he was, with his beautiful mysterious lass in his arms, blinking dazedly as he roused from the first true sleep he could recall since his father had died.
She had surprised him the night before. As shy as she was, he had guessed she was likely a maiden, untaught in the ways of love. But she had responded to him so ardently. He had known other women with far more experience in bedsport, and none of them could hold a candle to Lydia’s innocent, wondering enjoyment of their lovemaking.
Donall could happily have remained there, staring at Lydia for candle-marks, perhaps days, but he could feel his stomach grumbling with the need for food, and a pressure low in his gut that reminded him of other needs as well. Reluctantly, he eased himself away from the sleeping woman in his arms.
Lydia made a soft noise of protest, blinking open hazy eyes. Donall soothed her with a caress across her forehead, indulging himself by smoothing back the tousled locks.
Lydia made another noise, and her eyes shot open.
“Oh, I must go! I must help preparing breakfast. What will Maisie think? My bed is untouched! I shall tell her I fell asleep in the library”.
“Then run along, my love. We’ll see each other shortly.” Donall smiled, kissed her lips softly and then eased himself out of bed and went to deal with his most pressing concerns.
A splash of cold water on his face woke him up the rest of the way. His door was still bolted shut, so Donall dressed, his mind focusing on what needed to be accomplished.
Half a candle-mark later, he met Ewan and Alex in the Great Hall. The morning meal was being served, and Donall helped himself to porridge, prepared his preferred way, bread, sliced cold meats, and a generous serving of potatoes.
“Fair morn, me laird.” Ewan nodded to him, and Donall returned the gesture.
