Page 67 of The Highlander's Illicit Bride
“Marry me. Stay by me side.”
“Struan—” she said.
Her voice quavered and sounded weak in her ears. She couldn’t stop herself, couldn’t hold back the tide of emotion and desire coursing through her. Isolde gripped the front of his tunic and leaned into him, seeking out his mouth, then kissing him with every bit of passion in her soul.
Struan scooped her up and carried her down the hall to his chamber. Once there, he leaned down and kissed her again, lashing her tongue with his as he carried her to a pile of thick furs spread out before the fireplace. The fire inside it was burning bright, casting flickering shadows around the room while filling it with warmth.
He gently laid her down on the furs and stared down at her for a moment. Isolde’s heart thundered in her chest and her body quivered from head to toe. The firelight glittered in his stormy gray eyes and the fire burning inside of her burned higher and hotter than the flames that licked the stone sides of the fireplace.
“I dinnae want ye tae leave,” he whispered. “I want ye tae stay with me. I wantye, Isolde.”
Coherent thoughts fled from Isolde’s mind. Instead of saying anything, she slid her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down to her. Their mouths crashed together, and he slipped his tongue past her teeth, sliding around hers. She shook as his large, strong hands roamed her body, leaving trails of heat in their wake.
Lost in the moment and fueled only by her desire, Isolde pulled his tunic up and tugged on it. Struan rose to his knees and pulled it off, then tossed it across the room. As he did, she fumbled with the laces on his breeches with clumsy fingers. As she worked on those, Struan loosened the laces on her bodice and when he had them undone, he reached down and slid his hands up her legs, pushing her dress up along with it.
“Are ye sure ye want this Isolde? Because I cannae promise ye I can hold mesel’ any longer.”
Isolde didn’t answer. Instead, she sat up and let him pull her dress over her head. It joined his tunic on the floor across the room. Once he had her naked, he laid her back down and quickly pulled his breeches off, the light of the fire flickering across thistaut, corded muscles, Isolde admired his form. He truly did look like he had been carved from stone and shaped like a Greek god of old.
Struan sank to his knees beside her, his eyes sliding up and down her body with a touch as light as the fingertips he trailed along her thighs and flat, taut belly. He drank her in, the light of desire in his eyes shining brighter than the fire.
“Me God, ye are exquisite,” he whispered. “Ye are sheer perfection.”
Isolde’s cheeks flared with heat and when she moved to cover herself reflexively, he caught her hands and pushed them aside, taking several long moments to simply admire her. She felt exposed beneath his gaze. Vulnerable. No man had ever seen her naked before, but something about the way his gaze traveled across her body stoked the flames of her own desire.
The heat and desire she saw in his eyes set her heart racing. And somehow, inexplicably, it began to strip away the layers of self-consciousness that gripped her.
Struan laid down beside her and Isolde turned on her side to face him. She shuddered as he traced the tips of his fingers along her side. And when he leaned forward and kissed her mouth, Isolde’s body exploded with sensation. He pulled her to him as their kiss deepened and she felt his long, rigid staff pressed to her belly. Desire and lust flowed through her veins, along with a healthy dose of fear. She’d never been with a man, and it scared her as much as it excited her.
Struan rolled her onto her back and slipped his hand between her thighs. He slid his tongue along her neck, then grazed her collarbone with his teeth, drawing a soft moan from her mouth. His fingers slipped gently along her wet, swollen entrance then teased her button. Isolde tensed and she felt herself growing hotter and wetter, the desire swelling within her like a tide.
With his eyes still fixed on hers, Struan slipped two fingers into her. She was so wet and as he slowly moved his fingers within her, rubbing her nub with his thumb, Isolde’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she moaned.
She gave herself over to the sensations that gripped her. Reveled in the way his fingers felt pumping deeper into her. She gasped and sputtered, caught and held fast in his gaze, which remained locked onto hers.
“I want ye,” he said, his voice low and husky.
He withdrew his fingers from her and they glistened her wetness in the firelight. He slipped them into his mouth and moaned with pleasure as he tasted her. Isolde gasped and felt herself grow wetter than she ever thought she could be.
“I want ye too,” she said and parted her legs, wrapping them around his waist as he climbed on top of her. Their gazes locked together as tightly as their bodies, and Struan nestled the head of his staff between her velvety folds.
“Are ye sure, Isolde? There is nay turning back once this happens. Ye’ll bemineand I willnae let ye go.”
She nodded with anticipation. “Please, Struan, please…”
With a slow, seductive grin on his lips, he rolled his hips and pierced her core. Isolde gasped, the breath fleeing her lungs as quickly as coherence fled her mind. The pinch of pain was intense and he paused for a second, kissing her hands, her neck, her lips. A few moments later he began moving again and as he slipped into her dripping heat, the discomfort faded, soon replaced by a rush of pleasure that was just as powerful. And as her body grew accustomed to having him so deep in her sex, filling her up so completely, a shaky smile spread across her face.
“Ye feel so good,” he breathed and kissed her.
Struan began to slide his length along her slippery inner walls, driving himself deep into her. He moved slowly at first, each thrust of his hips igniting sparks inside of her. Isolde squeezed her eyes shut and bit her bottom lip. She grabbed hold of his arms, her nails digging into his skin as a powerful feeling of ecstasy washed over her.
“Please”, she gasped. “I want more.”
Isolde opened her eyes and stared at Struan, who hovered over her. His face was red, and his jaw was clenched. The veins on either side of his neck stood out as he drove himself into her, his rhythm picking up speed and power. His staff was thick and stretched her open and she bounced beneath him as he pounded himself into her.
Their bodies moved in a sinuous rhythm, their moans blending into a chorus of passion that echoed around the room. Isolde locked her ankles together behind his back and thrust her hips upward, desperate to have him as deep inside her sex as he could be. She had never felt so connected to anybody before. Nor had she ever felt the kind of pleasure that flowed through her like a powerful river. He filled her with a bliss she didn’t know existed.
Struan kissed her neck and grazed her earlobe with his teeth as he plunged his rigid length deeper than ever. Isolde’s eyes widened and she cried out. Her entire body grew taut and lightning crackled along her skin. A long, shaky moan burst from her mouth, and she suddenly felt weightless as she shook wildly beneath him. She was wrapped in ecstasy and her body grew warm as she climaxed. She pulled him down into another kiss and he swallowed her whimpering as she rode out the currents of bliss that pulled her along.
