Page 62 of The Highlander’s Improper Wife

She yanked her hand from within the bodice as the door opened and Taran filled the space. She stood frozen, their gazes locked in the mirror. He wore the same belted plaide and a clean linen shirt, but Caroline didn’t dare let her gaze stray from his face for fear the heat in her cheeks would spread down her exposed neck and give away every erotic picture that was now etched into her brain. His keen eyes dropped from her face to the rise and fall of her breasts, then lifted back to her face. He stared for a breathless moment, then strode towards her. Her pulse sprang into action like a too-tightly coiled spring when he stopped beside her, gaze still on her reflection, and wrapped an arm around her waist. He pressed a kiss to her temple. A quiver radiated through Caroline. The kiss had been chaste, but the gleam in his eye was anything but virtuous.

“Lonely, madam?” he asked, lips still pressed against her flesh.

A compulsion to bolt like a frightened rabbit shot to the surface. His arm tightened around her and Caroline attempted to pull away. A corner of his mouth twitched and she wanted to box his ears. He couldn’t possibly know what she’d been thinking…doing. He breathed deep and exhaled, his warm breath bathing her cheek. She shivered. He lifted his free hand. She jerked and he paused, brow quirked, clearly daring her to explain why the small action unnerved her. With a finger, he traced the edge of her bodice as she had. Warmth pooled between her legs and she fought the urge to fidget.

An unexpected desire surfaced to grasp his hand and guide it downward until his fingers pressed against her pussy. Even with the fabric between them, his touch would be beyond belief. His hand dropped away from the bodice and, arm still around her waist, he slid behind her. Caroline gasped at the feel of his erection pressing into her buttocks and she stood frozen as he shifted, working the hard length between the cheeks of her arse. When he stilled, grasped her skirt, and began inching it upward, her legs weakened. He pulled her more tightly to him.

At last, the skirt was high enough to hint at the curls between her legs and Taran pressed his mouth against her ear and whispered, “Show me what you want.” Her eyes widened and she shook her head frantically. “My lord, I—”

“What do you want?” he interrupted.

He released her waist and grasped her hand. She stiffened, but he kissed her ear, then gently took the lobe between his teeth and bit down. Desire exploded through her.

She jammed her eyes shut as he guided her hand downward. “My lord.”

Her fingertips brushed her curls and he swirled the tips against the fringes, tickling her mound with the slightest of touches. Her pussy tightened an instant before her fingers grazed the already swollen nub. Caroline jerked back against Taran and jarred with awareness of his cock trapped against her arse. She leaned forward and he plunged the fingers between the warm folds. She gasped at feel of the moist warmth.

“Aye, love,” Taran whispered. “Feel yourself as I do.”

He undulated his hips so that her clit pulsed against her palm while he guided her fingers into her hot channel.

“Open your eyes,” he coaxed.

She gave another frantic shake of her head.

His low masculine laugh sent a shiver through her. “Show me what you like.” “You—you know what I like,” she burst out.

His laugh was deeper this time. “Aye, love, but I can make pleasing yourself all the better.” He moved suggestively behind her and she swallowed.

He thrust the finger deeper into her channel, then out, then in again. Pleasure radiated through her. She opened her eyes and met his stare in the mirror.

He gave a small nod. “Yes.”

In and out, he guided her movement while slowly pulsing his hips so that her clit rubbed against her palm. Pressure mounted and she couldn’t resist the urge to make the finger more rigid. Satisfaction lifted a corner of his mouth. He abruptly pulled the digit from within the warmth and began massaging her clit with it in fast strokes. He eased back. The rhythm broke and he cursed, but released her hand. He yanked the skirt higher, crushing it against her abdomen as he yanked up his plaid and stepped close again. Flesh against flesh, his steely length met the soft curves of her rear.

He grasped her hand again and urged her back into the luscious rhythm that mercilessly teased her clit. “Do not stop,” he ordered, and released her hand.

She swallowed, but continued as instructed. His gaze dropped to where her fingers worked their magic. His intake of breath startled then thrilled her. Skirt still held firmly at her waist, he grasped her hips and thrust his cock upward through the crack in her arse. Her brain flip-flopped between the pleasure her fingers brought and the feel of his cock tightening as it slid upward, then loosening with the downward slide. Her breath quickened. He abruptly threw an arm around her waist and lowered himself a few inches so that he could slide the hard length between her folds. The tip bumped against her fingers and he sucked in breath. Caroline faltered.

“Do not stop,” he commanded again as he bent her forward and, before she realized his intent, he pushed into her channel.

Fingers shaking, she rocked against the digit, her arse bumping against his belly, his cock sliding forward then back. His head fell back and he thrust with the rhythm she created. Pleasure built in her core. His grip tightened. Faster. Harder. Lust coiled tight in her belly. His hold on her hips turned iron. She slicked her fingers through the moist warmth of her folds, fingertips coming in contact with the cock pounding into her.

Memory burst forth of last night in Taran’s bed. She sucked in breath. The laudanum had clouded her brain, she hadn’t dreamed the encounter. Taran had bedded her as no husband bedded a wife. He had fucked her on all fours. Taken her as hard and savagely as he fucked her now.

“Please yourself,” he ground out.

Caroline flicked the swollen nub with a fast motion that brought a sudden flare of pleasure that sizzled along the nerves connecting to her very being. Taran pumped faster. She gulped air, body jarring with the impact of his hips to her buttocks, but he held her, thrusting harder. Pleasure splintered through her. She cried out with her orgasm. Her knees weakened, but Taran held her upright for a final thrust. He erupted, spewing his seed deep inside her. Caroline massaged her clit in another quick motion and a second, more powerful orgasm rolled through her.

“Fuck,” he growled, and thrust again, then one last time in unison with the final wave of pleasure that turned her knees to pudding. He caught her to him, breath hard and heavy against her flesh as he buried his head in her neck.

They stood for a long moment, his powerful chest heaving against her back, her body trembling. At last, his breathing slowed and his hold loosened. Mercifully, her legs held her weight. Taran released her and the lush velvet skirt fell down across her legs without so much as a tiny crease. Relief flooded her and she smoothed the fabric at hip length, twisting so that she could see the backside in the mirror.

Taran grinned. “No worse for the wear, madam?”

She paused and looked at his reflection. Male satisfaction was written on his face. “No thanks to you,” she retorted, despite the warmth that crept up her cheeks and the trickle of fluids between her thighs.

His brow lifted. “I made good on my promise.”