Page 57 of The Highland Laird’s Hellion Bride

He reached up, his fingers finding the loose curl at her jaw. He tucked it back slowly, deliberately, the barest brush of his knuckles against her skin. Her breath caught, audible in the quiet room.

He drew her in.

He had exhausted every ounce of control he had left.

Chapter Sixteen

Elspeth’s hands were fisted in his shirt when he drew back enough to look at her. A long, unhurried look that stripped away every argument she might have made about propriety, or the hour, or the fact that they were standing in a room full of blades.

He moved toward her, and his hands were on her waist, pulling her against him. The wool of his kilt scratched through her thin dress, but she didn’t mind.

His mouth found hers in a kiss that started gentle but quickly deepened. His tongue slid against hers in a way that made her knees weak.

His hands roamed over her body, tracing the curve of her spine, the dip of her waist, the swell of her hips.

Elspeth had never been touched like this before, never been touched at all, really. Her breath hitched when his thumbs brushed the underside of her breasts.

Magnus broke the kiss, his lips trailing down her neck. “Ye smell so good. Like wildflowers after rain.”

His teeth scraped against her pulse point, and she gasped, her head falling back. One of his hands moved to the laces of her gown, his fingers working them loose with practiced ease. The dress pooled around her feet, leaving her in only her thin shift. The cool air made her nipples pebble against the fabric.

“Look at ye,” Magnus murmured, his eyes dark with hunger. “So beautiful.”

He lifted her onto a sturdy weapons chest, the wood cold against her bare thighs. His hands pushed her knees apart, and her face heated. No one had ever seen her like this, so exposed and vulnerable. But the look in Magnus’s eyes wasn’t mocking or cruel; it was reverent.

His fingers traced the hem of her shift, slowly pushing it up her thighs, higher and higher until the fabric bunched around her waist. Elspeth squeezed her eyes shut, her heart pounding against her ribs.

“Open yer eyes, lass,” Magnus commanded softly. “Look at me.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him. Magnus had dropped to his knees before her, his broad shoulders filling the space between her thighs. His hands gripped her hips, holding her steady as he leaned forward.

The first touch of his tongue against her folds made her cry out. It was unlike anything she’d ever imagined, wet and hot and utterly overwhelming.

Magnus licked her slowly, deliberately, as if memorizing her taste. His thumbs spread her open, exposing the sensitive bud hidden within. When his mouth closed around that tiny nub, her back arched off the chest. Pleasure, sharp and exquisite, shot through her.

Magnus sucked gently, his tongue swirling in patterns that made her toes curl. Her hands found his hair, her fingers tangling in the thick strands.

“Magnus,” she breathed, his name a prayer on her lips.

He responded by increasing his pace, his tongue moving faster, harder. One of his hands left her hip, and she felt his fingers probing her entrance. She tensed, her body instinctively resisting.

“Easy now, lass,” he murmured against her flesh. “Let me in.”

She tried, taking a deep breath and consciously unclenching her muscles. His finger slid inside her, thick and calloused. It felt strange at first, full, almost too full. But then he curled it just so, and pleasure exploded through her.

He added another finger, stretching her carefully. His mouth never stopped its wicked assault on her bud. Elspeth could feel something building inside her, a pressure that grew with each lick, each thrust of his fingers. Her hips began to move, rocking against his face.

“That’s it,” he growled, the vibration of his voice sending shivers through her.

The words shocked her, but they also thrilled her. She let go, abandoning herself to the sensations. The pressure inside her built higher and higher, until she thought she might burst.

Magnus seemed to sense how close she was. He sucked harder, his fingers pumping faster.

And then it happened. The pressure broke, and pleasure washed over her in waves so intense they stole her breath. Colors exploded behind her eyelids—blues and golds and purples, like the northern lights dancing across a winter sky. She was flying, falling, soaring all at once.

Magnus continued licking her through the aftershocks, his movements gentler now. When Elspeth finally came back to herself, she found him watching her, his chin glistening with her juices.

“Did ye like that, lass?” he asked, a smug grin playing on his lips.