Page 115 of The Icy Highlander's Virgin
He groaned into her, the sound vibrating through her core, his mouth relentless and patient all at once. His fingers came next—just one at first, then two, slipping in easily. He stroked her slowly, curling and pumping while his mouth worked her clit in sync. Every flick, every swirl of his tongue was intentional. Her thighs trembled around his head, hands grasping at the sheets.
She was close. So close.
But then he pulled away.
“Dinae stop!” she nearly shouted, breathless and wrecked.
He slid up her body and caught her mouth with his. “Nae stoppin’. Just changing tactics.”
He grinned as he kissed her again, lips wet with her, and positioned himself over her. She could feel his length pressing against her entrance—hot, thick, heavy.
But he didn’t push in yet.
Instead, he reached down and slid the tip through her folds, rubbing against her clit, again and again, until she was panting beneath him.
“Please,” she whispered, nails raking gently down his back. “Lachlan... I need ye inside me.”
He kissed her again. “Then look at me. I want ye to see everythin’.”
Their eyes locked as he finally began to ease in.
Slow. So slow.
She sucked in a breath as he stretched her open inch by inch. He was big—she felt every part of him. It was overwhelming in the best way, this deep, burning fullness that made her toes curl.
He paused halfway in. “Ye okay?”
“More,” she breathed. “Give me all of it.”
He groaned and sank the rest of the way inside her, bottoming out with a hiss. They stayed there, still, foreheads pressed together, both of them breathing hard.
“Erica,” he whispered. “You feel unreal. So tight. So perfect.”
She kissed him, rocking her hips up. “Move. Please, Lachlan—dinae be gentle now.”
And he wasn’t.
He pulled out nearly all the way, then thrust back in hard and deep. She gasped, her legs wrapping around him instinctively. He found a rhythm—slow, then fast, shallow, then deep—grinding against her in a way that made stars burst behind her eyes.
He whispered things to her in Gaelic—dirty, reverent, raw—and she didn’t need to understand the words. She felt them. Felt them in every thrust, every groan, every time his hand slid up to cup her breast or grip her thigh to pull her closer.
Their bodies collided in rhythm, the bed creaking beneath them, the fire throwing shadows across their skin. She felt him everywhere. Inside. Around. Through her.
Her orgasm built slowly, curling up her spine, stealing her breath.
When it hit, it hit hard. She screamed his name, trembling uncontrollably, her entire body convulsing around him. He cursed loudly and followed with a final, hard thrust, spilling inside her as he moaned into her neck.
They stayed locked together, breathless, sweaty, wrecked.
And then, the softest words between them:
“I love ye,” she whispered, voice raw.
His reply was quiet, fierce, like a vow. “I love ye too. And I always will.”
They stayed like that—still joined, still trembling—until sleep finally came, wrapped in warmth, love, and the sweet ache of having belonged to each other completely.
EPILOGUE
