TamingaHighlandDevil

by Kimberly Killion

  She wanted the other half, and was willing to do anything to have it. She suckled his tongue and toyed with his beaded nipples, attempting to be creative.

  He responded with a deep moan and suckled her earlobe. “I’m going to taste every inch of ye before I claim ye. And then,” he flushed her body to his, squeezed her backside and pressed his hard cock against her belly, “I’m going to do it again.”

  His muscles flexed beneath her hands just before he filled his fists with her garments and pulled her kirtle and undertunic over her head.

  Embarrassment inflamed her skin, but she refused to cower. She raised her chin unashamed and allowed him to look his fill.

  “My God, ye have beautiful breasts.”

  “I know.” Effie’s lips curved at the corners. Emboldened by his compliment, she cupped her breasts and ran her thumbs over her nipples. They tingled and throbbed, stood erect, awaiting his attention.

  His brows arched wickedly in the middle. “Ah, I found your fault. Ye are vain,” he teased, then molded his mouth around her nipple and sucked hard. He drew on it over and over, nipping, biting, making her moan with pleasure, then he moved to pay equal attention to her other breast.

  As he bathed her skin in kisses, his long, slender fingers stroked her belly, her hips, her backside, causing ropes of ecstasy to whip through her body. Warmth flooded her, tightened her insides, dampened her thighs. Never had she known such arousal. ’Twas unbearable, yet exquisite.

  Her nether lips swelled. Her clit grew painfully erect. Then he was there, between her thighs, dancing over the wet curls, massaging the place that needed him the most. He slid his index finger through the folds of her soaked slit then dipped inside.

  She cried out, clung to his shoulders. Her eyes snapped open to meet his—dark blue, fierce, savage, hot. He kissed his way down her body, the curve of her belly, her hipbones, the fronts of her thighs, until he settled on his knees in front of her. His mouth hovered over her mound, his hot breath teasing her, making her insane, then the tip of his nose brushed her clit, causing her to jerk.

  “I can smell your desire for me. ’Tis like a bouquet of burning flowers.” His husky voice deepened and the scruff of his unshaven jaw scratched her thighs.

  “Please, Magnus,” she begged, using his given name, and liked the way it tickled her tongue so she whispered it again, “Magnus.”

  “Tell me what ye want.”

  The rogue knew what she wanted, but he taunted her with his fingers until she said the words. “I want your mouth on me.”

  A slow, wicked grin lifted his lips just before he lowered her onto the fur rug with such speed it made her dizzy. He removed her boots and stockings, then spread her thighs wide and drew his tongue over the full length of her slit.

  She bucked, clutched the sides of his head and pulled him closer until he plunged his tongue deep inside her. Holding her breath, she relished every rasp, every delicious flutter. He licked her greedily, exploring her folds, searching for the hidden places that made her respond the most.

  When he circled her anus with his tongue, she tightened and gasped for much needed air, but he showed her no mercy. He pumped two fingers in and out of her and snuck his pinkie into the forbidden ring of her rectum.

  She was mindless now, her body controlled her actions. Perspiration rolled over her neck, gathered behind her knees. She was either going to melt or combust. She quivered, quaked, her knees shook, but it still wasn’t enough. “I need ye.”

  “Not yet.” He spread her sex wide with his thumbs and pulled back the thin layer of flesh covering her clit. He blew on it, flicked it with the tip of his tongue, then sucked it between his lips. The gentle scrape of his teeth was maddening, and just when she was certain she would lose consciousness, he released a rumbling growl that sent explosions of rapture ripping through her core.

  She screamed and thrust her pelvis upward as her muscles contracted, flittered, throbbed, then a powerful climax flooded her woman’s core with hot liquid. Her chest burned. Her heart raced painfully as ripple after delicious ripple echoed throughout her entire being.

  “Oh bleating Christ!” That had never happened before.

  Confused and concerned, she looked down the length of her body and caught his all-knowing smile as he lapped up her juices like a lazy cat.

  “’Twas your first climax?” He must have read her expression.

  She could lie and save herself a great deal of embarrassment, but he looked positively pleased with himself. She opted to say nothing at all.

  “Few women are capable of ejaculation. It pleases me verra much to know ye are one of the few.” He crawled up her body and shared the flavor with her. ’Twas musky, tangy…erotic.

  She didn’t shy away from him, but his comment made her feel like his pupil. She’d been submissive the whole of her life. She’d been a dutiful wife, a complaisant daughter and a subservient sister. If truth be told, she was exhausted with the task of biting her tongue. She wanted to speak her mind, express her opinions openly without fear of contempt. And there was that voice inside her she wanted to crush—the voice that had always blamed her for driving Gavin into another woman’s bed. She could be passionate, bold…daring.

  “Do let me know when ye’ve recovered.” Laird Sutherland—Magnus—she corrected mentally, supported himself overtop her and nibbled on her breasts.

  “Ye are a verra wicked man.” She wiggled her way out from underneath him.

  “’Tis true.” His bluster made her smile. “And ’twill take a verra wicked woman to satisfy me.”

  She settled between his legs and wrapped her fingers around his cock. “I can be wicked.”

  Chapter Five

  Magnus had known the joys of love play with many women, but never had he felt such a strong emotional connection with any of them. True, Lady Reay made his body burn, but she also made him yearn for something greater than the pleasures of the flesh. She made him yearn for love.

  Part of him wanted to wait until they’d spoken their vows to consummate their marriage, but all thoughts of chivalry fled him when she looked up at him with those glittery emerald eyes and swiped the bead of semen off the top of his cock.

  His heart thundered in his chest, waiting for her little pink tongue to sneak out and do it again. Tendons whelped in his arms as he attempted to caress her coppery locks with a gentleness he no longer possessed. She kissed his bollocks with her silky full lips, then trailed her tongue along the thick vein swelling the underside of his cock. She tortured him with quick licks, the barely-there flutter of her tongue, the cool and hot sensations of her breath.

  “Aye, ye are wicked indeed.” He spread his legs a little wider and thrust upward, begging her without words to take him into her sweet mouth.

  “Tell me what ye want.”

  The vixen stole his game! He laughed on the inside and felt a sense of pride at the same time as she continued to toy with him. Oh, he enjoyed this woman. He suspected she lacked his experience, yet she exuded confidence. Albeit, she seemed to grow impatient waiting for his response. “I want your mouth on my cock.”

  An impish grin tugged at her lips as both her slender brows popped up, one higher than the other. “Like this?” The temptress pressed a chaste kiss against the flat of his cock. “Or like this?” She gripped him with both hands and then finally curved her hot mouth over top of him.

  “Oh, aye. Like that. Like that,” he breathed as his sensitive flesh brushed against the roof of her mouth. Needle-sharp pings of pleasure stabbed his bollocks. A groan rumbled in his chest, calling the beast inside him. He wrapped his fingers around her skull and pushed. “More.”

  Eyes wide on him, she cupped his sac, curled her tongue around the base of his shaft and swallowed his cock. She bobbed in earnest, drawing her cheeks inward, sucking hard along the length of him.

  “Oh Christ!” He pulled her hair, attempting to control the rhythm, but Lady Reay was proving to be an aggressive lover, which definitely wasn’t som
ething he’d expected or been prepared for.

  When she moaned her own pleasure around him, he shivered at the sensations. Hot flaming bolts darted through his cock as his seed spiraled its way out of his bollocks. He couldn’t control it. He was going to come.

  “’Tis enough,” he growled in warning and tried to pull her off, but she held onto the root of him and refused to let go.

  White bursts of light speckled his vision, forcing his eyes shut. He stiffened, went completely still, and then roared as his seed burst against the back of her throat. “Bluidy faugh, woman!”

  He felt her smile as she milked him dry, then the lusty wench sat back on her heels and daintily wiped the corners of her mouth. “It seems ye’ve spent yourself prematurely, m’laird.” Her haughty expression only added to her appeal. “I confess I’m a wee bit disappointed.”

  His chuckle sounded evil even to him. She wanted to play, did she?

  “Ye are a minx.” He snatched her off the floor, tossed her over his shoulder and smacked her hard on her curvaceous rump. “Ye will regret provoking the Devil of Dunrobin.”

  She squealed as he carried her across the solar then tossed her atop the mattress. No woman had ever left his bed disappointed, and he damn sure wasn’t going to start with his wife.

  His wife, he repeated mentally. Those two little words warmed his insides and made him almost giddy. The anticipation of claiming her pumped blood into his flaccid member as he dipped a taper into the fire then proceeded to light every wick in the solar—two wall sconces, a six-tier candelabrum and a wide pillar candle on the bedside table.

  “What are ye doing?” She knelt upright, and much to his disappointment, she covered her favors with the bed curtain. Before this night was over, he intended to relieve her of her timidity completely.

  “I’ve hidden in the shadows for too long.” He blew the taper out and returned it to the mantle. “When I satisfy your every pleasure—and I will—I want to see the look on your face when ye thank me.”

  “Oh.” Her thin russet-colored brows slid up her forehead and he caught a glimpse of fear flash through her green eyes just before he disappeared into an antechamber.

  He returned with two silk scarves. “Lie down and put your hands over your head.”

  Her gaze dropped to the blue scarves twisted in his hands. “What are your intentions, m’laird?”

  “I’m going to bind ye.”

  * * * * *

  Effie pressed the bed curtains tighter against her breasts and glanced at the door. ’Twas doubtful she could outrun him. “I can assure ye, there’s no need to bind me.”

  “Ah, but there is.” When he pressed his mouth to hers, all her apprehensions fled in an instant. Silk brushed over her wrists as he guided her down to lie diagonally on the mattress. Oh, he thought himself sneaky, but she knew his tantalizing kisses were only a means to distract her.

  His plan succeeded.

  He bound her wrists with one scarf and used the second to tie her to the bedpost before he freed her from the heat of his mouth. “Test your restraints.”

  She pulled on the bindings. They were tight. Damn tight. While this sort of love play was certainly creative, it left her feeling vulnerable. A combination of fear and excitement made her pulse gallop.

  He straddled her hips and slid his calloused hands down her arms. “Did your husband ever hurt ye?”

  “Gavin never struck me.” But he broke my heart.

  “Did ye trust him?” Laird Sutherland drew his fingertips between her breasts, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

  ’Twas difficult to focus on his words with his fingers playing over her skin. “Why are ye asking me these questions?”

  “Because I want to know if ye trust me.” His words were soft, gentle, but what he wanted, she was not yet prepared to give. She’d known him all of three days.

  The rise and fall of her breasts grew increasingly more erratic. The air thinned, forcing her to breathe through her mouth. “Trust is earned, m’laird.”

  “Then I shall earn it.” Beginning at her neck, he trailed his tongue over the curve of her breasts, her belly, her hips. With every hot kiss he placed upon her skin, her consternation faded a little more. Arousal pushed the fear out of her veins as he continued downward to the inside of her knees, her calves, her ankles. “I will release ye from your binds whenever ye wish. Ye have to do naught more than ask.”

  She should ask now. She should end this play while she had the opportunity. “Do ye intend to hurt me?”

  “I will never hurt ye.” He kissed the arch of her foot then worked his way back upward and straddled her thighs. “Do ye believe me?”

  She nodded, convinced of one thing. The man was no beast.

  “’Tis progress.” He grinned as he retrieved a vial of oil from the bedside table and poured a generous amount into his palm.

  The scents of pine and icy mint sharpened in her nose as he massaged the silky substance into her breasts and belly. The aroma soothed her, but the cool oil tingled on her hot skin and stimulated her nerve endings.

  “I’ll make ye a good husband.” He began toying with her nipples—gently at first, then his fingers became more aggressive. He plucked at the knobs of flesh until they thrust obscenely upright. “I’ll never seek my pleasure before yours.”

  “Magnus…” she whispered, ready for him to claim her, ready for him to make her his wife. Her eyes fell shut, her grip around her binds tightened. She whimpered and squirmed beneath him as an aching arousal began to throb inside her. “I need ye.”

  “Not yet.” He positioned himself between her legs and massaged the hard lips of her sex, stroking the frilly folds, sliding his fingers up and down the full length of her wet slit.

  Fire and ice played havoc inside her. The craving became unbearable. Perspiration beaded on her forehead then trickled over her temples. She parted her legs farther, an unspoken plea for more, which he fulfilled when he delved two fingers inside her. She could do little more than moan as he worked his thick deft fingers in and out of her, reaching deep inside her to touch that hidden nub threatening to explode. Her entire being remained focused on that center of her, that magic place that fluttered around his teasing fingers.

  His thumb circled her clit, rolled it, pressed on it, only to drift back, leaving her hanging on the threshold of bliss. He worked her into a frenzy, teasing her, tormenting her, pulling her to the edge of climax, then pushing her back. A sly finger slipped inside the ring of her anus. She writhed at the sensation, but flexed her pelvis, desperate for more. Every touch, every caress drove her a little closer to insanity.

  Then fire sprinkled over her belly.

  She cried out. Her eyes snapped open to find him holding a candle over her navel. Before she could open her mouth to protest, he tilted the pillar again. Hot wax spilled over the rim and filled the whorl of her navel in a maelstrom of scalding heat.

  Her sex clamped hard around his fingers as pleasure and pain tore through her in waves. Her muscles quivered, seized, then contracted, only to repeat over and over.

  “Dinnae come. Hold on to that edge and wait for me.”

  She wanted to obey him, but her orgasm sat so thick and full and heavy in her body. Ripples began to wash through her. She couldn’t control it. “I cannot.”

  “Ye can.”

  Sharp daggers of desire ripped through her body. Icy air hissed over her teeth. Her pelvis shot up, forcing his fingers deeper inside her, but he jerked them out, stealing her climax, making her crazed with lust.

  “Wait for me.” He set his cock at her opening and positioned the candle overtop her breasts.

  “Nay!” Her heart punched her ribs, waiting, fearful, expectant…

  He pushed the head of his cock inside her and tipped the candle on its side. Fiery wax dripped over her nipples, between her breasts and down her belly in a rain of burning heat. Her entire body lurched at the pain, then shuddered with pleasure as he filled her canal with his thick erection.
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  She screamed, overwhelmed with sensations. Her body burned inside and out as he thrust a little deeper, pushed a little harder, stretching her sheath inch by inch until, at last, he was buried to the hilt inside her.

  Her chest hurt, her throat burned. She was surely going to die.

  He returned the candle to the bedside table then leaned into her ear. “Now ye may come.”

  Her orgasm broke through her like the tide crashing against the rocky crag—fierce and violent. She surrendered to the clawing need and melted as wave after glorious wave of blissful release flowed through her womb. “Oh, Magnus!”

  He kissed her while she rode to the peak of the summit. She’d never experienced anything quite so intense, so heavenly, so utterly divine. She felt weightless now, like she was falling, like she was floating.

  “Ye are beautiful.” He rocked back and forth with deliberate slowness and kissed her cheeks one at a time.

  She felt beautiful and free and treasured. “Thank ye. Thank ye…” she repeated, still lost in this world of ecstasy.

  When the initial surge finally faded, she opened her eyes just enough to see the smile lift his handsome face. “’Twas my pleasure.”

  He continued a steady rhythm in and out of her until his moans turned to grunts. His pace quickened, grew fervent, carnal. Soon, he raised her hips off the bed and impaled her a final time with a guttural roar. Hot bursts of semen filled her belly, heating her womb, making her pine for life, for family…for him.

  “I’m so grateful ye changed your mind.” He hovered over top her for long moments, eyes boring into hers. The current of emotions passing between them touched her deeper than any physical caress. She could trust this man. She could let him into her heart.

  She could love him.

  Her arms ached, wanting to touch him, wanting to hold him. “Release me.”

  He untied the knots, then easily gathered the chunks of wax off her oiled skin and returned them back to the mouth of the pillar.