Page 53 of The Icy Highlander's Virgin
And then his tongue touched her.
She cried out, one hand flying to her mouth, the other tangling in his hair. He groaned as he tasted her, savoring every slow lick, every flick of his tongue over that aching bud. He circled it, kissed it, then pulled it gently between his lips, drawing a strangled sob from her throat.
Her thighs tried to close around him, but his strong hands held them open, gently, firmly. He wanted all of her. Every sound. Every tremble.
“Gods, ye taste like heaven,” he rasped, before diving in again, his tongue flicking faster now, his mouth hot and relentless.
She arched off the ground, grinding into his face, lost in the rhythm he gave her. Her body climbed higher, every nerve on fire, every muscle taut. When he slipped a finger inside her, slow and deep, she nearly broke apart.
“Lachlan, I—oh—oh gods?—”
He groaned in response, the vibrations from his mouth pushing her over the edge. Her climax crashed into her with the force of a storm, wracking her body with wave after wave of pleasure. Her cries filled the air, wild and free.
But he didn’t stop.
He eased her through it with slow, gentle strokes of his tongue, his lips pressing soft kisses to her slick heat. And only when her hips sagged and her thighs quivered with aftershocks did he lift his head.
Her breath was ragged, her chest heaving, and her eyes glassy with spent desire.
Lachlan moved up her body and lay beside her, pulling her into his arms. Her bare back pressed against his chest, his hand stroking slowly up and down her side, grounding her.
“Sleep now, lass,” he whispered, brushing a kiss to her temple. “I’ve got ye.”
Erica curled closer, her cheek against his chest, heart still fluttering like a bird in flight.
She didn’t speak. She didn’t have to.
For the first time, she understood what it meant to truly belong to someone.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The day had taken on a dreamlike quality, and Lachlan found himself reluctant to break the spell that had settled between him and his wife.
"We should head back soon, wife," he murmured against her hair, his voice still rough with sleep and satisfaction.
"Hmmm… please, just a little longer," she whispered, making no move to leave the warmth of his embrace.
His arm tightened around her. A man had every right to enjoy his wife's company, especially when that wife had proven to be far more passionate than either of them had expected.
"There's more I could show ye, ye ken," he'd told her, his voice low with the promise of pleasures yet unexplored. "So much more."
She'd looked up at him with those dark eyes wide with curiosity and want. "I want all of it," she'd whispered, and the breathless need in her voice had nearly broken his resolve. "But I ken once I give meself completely..."
"Shh," he'd silenced her with gentle fingers against her lips, though every fiber of his being wanted to claim her fully. "When ye're ready. When ye're certain. Until then, let me give ye what pleasure I can."
She didn’t speak. She didn’t have to.
She felt the shift in his body, the gentle tightening of his arms around her, the press of his lips against her shoulder. Then lower. A slow trail of kisses down her spine, over the dip of her waist, as though he were memorizing every inch of her with his mouth.
Her breath caught when he nudged her thighs apart again.
“Lachlan…” she whispered, unsure if her body could take more
“Hush, sweet,” he murmured, voice low and steady. “Let me show ye what it means to be worshipped.”
And he did.
His mouth found her again, soft and aching, still slick with the last remnants of her release. He didn’t hesitate. He dove in asif she were a feast laid out just for him, his tongue stroking through her folds, unhurried and sure.
