Page 46 of The Highlander's Auctioned Bride
“I like the sound of me name on those beautiful lips,” he said, and she scoffed.
“Dinnae try to charm me.”
His fingers tightened. “Maybe I shouldnae give ye a choice.”
Her breath hitched and as the moon came out from behind the cloud above them, showing her the need in his eyes, his sharp features tense.
“I think ye like me givin’ ye orders, Miss Brown.”
“It’s Lady MacLennan now, and I dinnae like bein’ told what to dae.”
She gasped as he licked an indecent line up her neck with his tongue, shocking her so much that her fingers clutched at his shoulders in desperate need.
“I think ye are nae lady,” he muttered, his nose nuzzling her jawline as she felt the familiar roll of his hips, feeling the hardness beneath. “I think ye yearn to be mastered.”
“Ye are—och, God—ye are the most arrogant man alive.”
“Hmm,” his hand pushed over her hip, and she stuttered and gasped. Her whole body was shaking with repressed desire as she fought to keep her moans at bay.
She was desperate to feel him touch her again.
The pleasure he had ignited after their game had given her a glimpse into what could be created when a man and a woman came together. She wanted to know more—much more.
He pulled back, unceremoniously hitching up her skirts as he pulled them to her waist. He pushed her against the wall, his eyes glowing now with an intensity she could barely meet.
His scent surrounded her, his hardened fingers running over the tops of her thighs. He smiled as, involuntarily, her legs parted to give him better access.
“Like I said,” he murmured, his fingers moving to flutter against the mound of her flesh, her breath panting as she tried to keepher balance. “Ye are nae lady,” he touched her, pushing a finger over her as she quivered beneath him.
He smiled. “Ye are wet for me already, and I have barely touched ye.”
She opened her eyes, outraged at his words, and tried to give him a withering glare, even as his fingers rubbed that spot over and over. She had to place her hands on either side of the stone to stop herself from collapsing to the floor.
With one hand occupied, the other suddenly found its way into her hair, and his fist gripped so hard she groaned. The tight burn at her scalp was a strange and unexpected pleasure as he tugged her head forward, forcing her to meet his gaze. She moaned, her hips pushing against his fingers as she finally felt him push into her.
“So beautiful,” he murmured, moving forward to bite her lower lip before soothing it with his tongue and plunging into her mouth with a shuddering groan. His fingers and hips began a harsh rocking motion against her, her whole body set alight by the movement as he matched the rhythm with his tongue.
His fist in her hair was brutally tight; she was utterly immobilized by him, and she had never been so aroused in her life.
Finally, he pulled back as her head went limp, her knee coming up of its own volition. It allowed him to push even further inside her as she felt her shuddering release surge through her body.
It took an age for her to come back to herself, and when she did so, he was holding her again, her skirts back around her ankles. His face was so close she could see the faint lines about his eyes from where he smiled.
But he rarely smiles at me.
“I am sorry,” he said solemnly. “I am sorry for leavin’ ye like that, Maisie.”
His gaze was so intense she had to look away before she melted in the face of it.
It was what she had wanted to hear, but somehow, there was no satisfaction in it.
“Should ye nae get some rest?” she asked softly. “Ye must be tired after seein’ to yer clan all night.”
“I am seein’ to me wife.”
She disentangled herself from his embrace, trying not to push him away too forcefully. She felt strange and off-balance again.
Is the anger I feel because he left me, or because I ken the feelin’s that are growin’ inside me will never be reciprocated?
