Page 86 of Married to the Ruthless Highlander
“Ye’ve some color back in yer cheeks,” Doughall conceded, putting his arm around her.
He pulled her close to his side as if he meant to share all his warmth with her. It was like having her personal warming pan, his body radiating heat.
They continued on in peaceful silence, content to be together in quietude, following the trail to the loch’s edge. In the glow of the molten sunset, mist swirled over the glassy waters, fooling the eye into thinking that the loch might be warm instead of bitingly cold.
“Do ye want to turn back?” Doughall asked, gazing out across the pretty water.
Freya shook her head. “Nae yet.” She pulled away from him, shedding her cloak. “I want to swim first.”
“What?” Doughall rasped. “Ye must be out of yer mind! I should take ye back to Sorcha—clearly, ye’re sufferin’ from delirium.”
Freya turned to face him, grateful she had put on a simple woolen dress, tied at the waist with a ribbon. She unfastened itswiftly and pulled the dress up over her head, tossing it onto a nearby rock. She had not bothered with stays or drawers, just a petticoat, which she quickly shimmied out of until she was standing naked before him.
His eyes widened, roving over her bare form, his tongue darting across his lower lip as he took her in.
Carefully, she began to walk backward to the water’s edge. “Ye can either join me and keep me warm, or ye can stay there and watch.”
“Freya, if ye dinnae come to me this instant…” he said, a warning in his voice.
“Ye’ll what? Scold me?” She gasped as her feet sank into the shallows, the water a cold shock to her entire body. “Ye keep threatenin’ me with punishment, husband of mine, but I’m yet to feel chastised.”
She continued to walk backward into the water until she was in up to her thighs. A grin tugged at the corners of her lips as she watched Doughall take off his clothes, teasing her with glimpses of his muscular figure and that hard length between his legs. It stood hard and proud, swollen by his desire for her, her own body warmed by the memory of feeling him between her folds for just a moment.
He strode toward her without hesitation, scooping her up into his arms and lifting her above the surface of the freezing cold water as she wrapped her legs around his waist.
“Ye’re a menace,” he growled, his hand sliding up her back and into her hair, cradling the nape of her neck. “I ought to smack yer arse ‘til it’s red.”
“Or ye could deny me this,” she whispered, slipping her hand between them and grasping that thick length.
His eyes closed for a moment, his teeth dragging across his lower lip. “Aye, but then I’d be punishin’ meself. And I’m nae the one defyin’ orders.”
“I willnae break, love,” she whispered in his ear, drawing him between her thighs.
Letting instinct guide her, she slowly moved her hips forward and back, gliding herself along the heat of his manhood. Just the sight of him naked on the shoreline had made desire pool in her core, her sex slick and eager to feel him.
A rumbling sound caught in the back of his throat. “I ought to throw ye in to let ye cool off.”
“Ye could,” she replied softly. “Or ye could keep yer promise.”
He took her lips in a fierce kiss, hungry and unrestrained. His hand smoothed over her curves, skimming over her ripe breasts, kneading the soft flesh as he kissed her harder. Meeting his ardor, she kissed him back with all the want and longing that had been building up since their encounter at the fireflymeadow, rocking her hips back and forth with every ebb and flow of her mouth.
Their tongues danced and battled, her hands clawing at him, her need for him spiraling up to dizzying heights. Despite the cold water all around them, she did not feel it, her entire being ablaze with the heat of her passion for her husband.
Indeed, she was so swept up in the moment that she did not protest as he carried her out of the loch and over to the rock where she had thrown her garments. Swimming no longer mattered. All that mattered was his mouth on her skin, his lips on hers, his hands exploring her body, his harsh breaths mingling with her desperate moans, and the thundering of her heart.
Carefully, he set her down on the rock and scooped his hands underneath her legs, pulling them over his broad shoulders. She had barely taken a full breath when he dipped his head and dragged his tongue through her folds, tasting her with slow intent.
“Lie back,” he commanded.
She did as he asked, her back arching off the rock as his tongue rolled over that sensitive bundle of nerves. But when she tried to reach down to run her fingers through his hair, he caught her wrist and pinned it to the rock.
“If ye touch me, I’ll stop,” he said, trailing kisses up the inside of her thigh. “Thatis yer punishment.”
She smiled to herself and lay back, waiting impatiently to feel the brush of his tongue again. But he did not give her what she wanted immediately, blowing a cool breath on her wet heat, making her shiver with delicious frustration.
He tasted her with his skillful tongue everywhere but where she longed to be tasted. Teasing her, tormenting her in the best possible way. He pressed his tongue into her core, trailed it along the inside of her thighs, and even circled that swollen bud close enough to make her tremble but far enough to delay the full force of that singular pleasure.
She was just about to beg him to show mercy when he slid his tongue across those crackling nerves, her entire body bucking as sparks erupted inside her.
