Page 65 of Sins of the Highlander

Rob roared in frustration. He was on his feet in a heartbeat, stomped to the door, and opened it a crack. The tavern owner’s wife balanced a tray on her hip and raised her fist to pound the door again. Mrs. Christie stopped with a flinch when she saw him glaring at her.

“If I dinna answer the first time, ye’ll no’ knock again.” He filled the opening, careful to shield Elspeth from the woman’s sharp eyes. “D’ye understand?”

“Aye, my lord.” Mrs. Christie was all meekness now. “But the supper?”

“Bring it back in an hour, and be sure it’s piping hot,” he growled. “And if I dinna answer the first knock, go away and return in another hour.”

He slammed the door and turned back to Elspeth.

She hadn’t moved. She was still sitting on the chair with her skirt bunched at her waist and her knees sagging apart, her sweet slit glinting all pink and wet at him. The tops of her breasts heaved above her tight bodice with the frustration of being so close to release and yet denied.

She was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen in his life.

He picked her up and carried her to the bed.

“Rob,” she said with a sob in her voice.

“Hush, lass. Dinna fret.” He laid her down and climbed in beside her, pulling up her hem to bare her again. She was fair all over, beautiful in all her parts. “Once I begin something, I like to finish.”

***

Elspeth felt as if she’d drunk another cup of Hepzibah’s mind-altering tea. There was only bliss. Only pleasure.

But there was no sense of unreality this time. Rob’s mouth, Rob’s blessed hands on her were more real than anything in her entire life.

Then there was only need. Only aching. Only longing to be filled.

She’d die of wanting, she was sure.

And then she did.

The spasms were so intense her whole body shuddered with the force of her release. Rob covered her mouth with his, and she tasted herself, all salty on his lips. He slipped a finger inside her, drawing out her pleasure. She continued to tighten around him, unable to stop, not wanting to stop, afraid she would stop.

She surrendered control of her body and let him lead her through that dark, hot place. Then once the madness was spent, she finally stilled, jerking only occasionally, like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

She felt wonderful. Even the ache in her thigh had subsided to a distant throb.

His mouth was still near enough for her to nip, to suck his bottom lip. She fisted his hair and pulled him closer for a deep kiss. She suckled his tongue and felt the hard ridge of him against her hip.

She was done wondering what he’d do if she reached under his kilt. Her hand found him, and he groaned into her mouth. She swept his length, clasped her hand around his base, and stroked. She fondled his balls.

Then she pushed against his chest.

“I want to see ye,” she told him.

His mouth turned up in a crooked smile, and he rolled onto his back, his hands laced behind his head. “Look your fill then, lass.”

“Lie still.”

She drew the bottom of his kilt up to his waist, and there it was. Licked by the light of a single candle, a long, thick, glorious rod of maleness lay on Rob’s flat belly. And below that in a nest of dark curls, his ballocks were drawn into a taut mound.

He was so fine.

She reached out to touch him, and his cock rose to meet her palm. She drew back in surprise.

“Did ye make it do that?”

“Aye and no.” Rob chuckled, and when his belly jiggled, his cock did too. “He has a mind of his own sometimes, ye ken.”