Page 39 of Abducted By the Highlander
Roughly, he broke their kiss, panting in her face, but made no move to release her. “Tell me to stop.” It was a harsh demand. “Tell me to go, Roisin, or God help me—” he clamped his jaw shut, and she knew she should end this illicit encounter but couldn’t bring herself to.
“No,” she breathed and pulled his head down and captured his mouth once again.
His kiss was ravenous as he hiked up her skirts, and she gasped into his mouth as his hand glided over her naked buttock. His fingers stroked and teased, and a tremor of wild delight cascaded through her when his hand cupped her mound.
The tip of his finger caressed her tender folds, circling her swollen clit, and she shuddered as blissful pressure swirled wherever he touched. She shifted, pushing herself more securely against his exploring fingers, needing more, so much more.
He pulled free from their kiss, and she sucked in elusive air as his lips and teeth trailed a burning path along her throat. Skitters of pleasure erupted across her skin and her nipples hardened, straining against her chemise. She wanted to rip off his shirt, to feel his naked chest against her, but she was helpless beneath the magic of his tongue and mouth.
And still he teased her damp slit, dipping inside and caressing her sensitive flesh. She forgot where they were, forgot everything but Hugh as waves of pleasure consumed her, and her senses shattered into a thousand starlit fragments.
Her legs shook but Hugh held her securely and she sagged againsthim, her heart thundering and breath erratic. Delightful tremors wracked her body as Hugh tenderly stroked her hair. A sense of deep comfort enveloped her.
We do belong together.
It was only when he gave an oddly strangled groan and eased back from her she realized that while she was feeling blissful and as though she could take on the world, Hugh remained unsatisfied.
She grasped the front of his shirt in both hands and gazed anxiously into his eyes. “Ye did not finish.”
“’Tis fine.” He did not sound fine, although he did attempt to smile. “Roisin, I—”
“No,” she said urgently, and her heart melted at how he had been so solicitous of her pleasure at the expense of his own. She might not have any experience of men, but she knew well enough, from overheard whispers among the women on the Small Isles, that such thoughtfulness was rare. “There must be something I can do.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth. “There isn’t.” His voice was hoarse, as though the words were forced from the darkest pit of hell. With apparent reluctance he dragged his gaze back to hers and gave her a pained smile. “Don’t fret, mo ghràdh. I’ll live.”
Mo ghràdh.My love. She hadn’t thought it possible to fall any harder for Hugh Campbell, and yet with two little words, here she was. And she would have it no other way.
“There is,” she whispered, grasping his plaid.
“Roisin.” He sounded shocked and gripped her hands. “What are ye doing?”
“I fear we don’t have much time.” She had completely lost track of how long she had been alone in the tent with Hugh. Grear might return at any moment. But she was determined he would remember this encounter for the rest of his life, just as she would. “I’m not entirely sure what I should do, but I have a general idea.”
He snorted, and she cast an anxious glance at the tent flap. No oneappeared to be outside, and she ignored his restraining hands, and once again attempted to hike his heavy plaid up his thighs.
“Ye’ll be the death of me,” he groaned as he plunged his fingers through her hair.
“Oh,” she breathed as she finally caught sight of his astonishing manhood. It was thick and long and jutted upwards with proud indifference to her awe, and once again fiery need licked deep within her sheath. “That—that is quite admirable, to be sure.”
“I’m gratified with yer approval.”
Tentatively, she ran her finger along his rigid flesh, and he shuddered in clear agony. She hesitated, unsure whether she should continue, but her curiosity got the better of her and she swirled her finger around the head of his erection.
“God’s bones.” He sounded rabid as he grabbed her hand and wrapped her fingers around him in a frighteningly hard embrace. “Aye, that’s it.” Raw lust throbbed in his voice as he rubbed her hand along his hot length. His fierce gaze never wavered from hers and a thread of alarm spiked through the passion-soaked fog that filled her mind. Surely she was hurting him?
The sound of his harsh breaths filled the tent, and his fingers slid from her hair to cradle her face. She forgot her worry as he captured her mouth in a brutal kiss that sent her senses spinning, and with her free hand she clutched his shirt to stop herself from collapsing to the ground.
“Christ.” He ground the word between his teeth and abruptly released her head before grabbing the napkin she’d folded and left on top of her trunk. Bemused, she watched him wrap the napkin about himself, before pressing her hand around him once again and roughly pulling her close. So close, their bodies all but melded, and the exhilarating friction against her palm sent spirals of need tingling between her thighs.
With a desperate groan, he buried his face in her shoulder as hisbody went rigid, and he pumped his hot seed over her napkin-shielded fist.
For endless moments, they remained locked together. Then she breathed in the elusive scent of arousal and worn leather and reveled in how right it felt to be in Hugh’s arms. But slowly, the outside world intruded. A horse’s snort outside the tent caused her to lift her head from his chest in vague alarm.
With evident reluctance he eased back from her and gently loosened her grip around him. She stood, swaying a little and feeling oddly cast adrift as he screwed the napkin into a ball and shoved it into one of his leather pouches. Then he caught her gaze and gave a rueful smile, and she didn’t feel adrift any longer. “I didn’t want to ruin yer bonny gown.”
“’Twas thoughtful of ye.”
He pressed his forehead against hers. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, but God forgive me, I cannot say I regret it.”
