Page 40 of The Highlander’s Tempting Touch

Alistair’s hand moved, gliding across her shoulder, down her arm, then back up in a caress, before stroking slowly across her chest to the laces that adorned the bodice of her night dress. Niamh shivered again as his palm ghosted across her breast, then slowly undid the laces and pushed the fabric aside to leave her bosom bare.

Cool air kissed her skin, then Alistair’s hand palmed her right breast, callused fingers gently kneading and teasing until her nipple was a hardened peak. Every touch sent a sensation like sparks through her, straight to her core, and Niamh found herself squirming slightly.

“Dae ye want me tae stop?”

“Nay.” She wasn’t sure what she felt, but she didn’t want him to stop.

Alistair bent to kiss her again, his weight shifting to blanket her further as his other hand caressed her left breast in turn. Niamh felt her breath catch in her throat as his hand drifted lower, stroking down the flat plane of her belly. His fingers found sensitive places she’d never known she had, making her muscles quiver under his hand.

Then his mouth fastened over her breast, suckling and teasing, and Niamh forgot everything else as a bolt of lightning seemed to shoot from her breast to her very core. Her back arched, a soft cry escaping her throat at the almost overwhelming onslaught of sensation.

Alistair made a pleased sound, a low, wordless noise that sent tremors through her. His attention shifted to her other breast, sending another bolt of heat through her. His hand left her belly and began to tug the skirt of her nightdress up her legs, until he could slide his hand under the fabric to caress her thighs.

“Will ye part yer legs fer me?” The question was low. Alistair’s voice, like smoke and velvet against her ears, sent another wave of heat through her. Her whole body shivered as his fingers stroked the line between her thighs, coaxing her agreement.

As if in a dream, Niamh hesitantly spread her legs. Alistair’s hand slid up to brush the damp curls of her sex, and he groaned. “Och, ye could drive a man mad.”

Niamh would have retorted, but his hand, stroking through the fine hair that covered the mound of her sex, stole her words. All she could feel was the gentle roughness of his fingers, the coil of slow moving heat within her as his hand caressed her most secret place.

It slid between her legs to cup her, his palm applying a light pressure to the outer lips of her sex, and Niamh’s back arched, her legs parting further without thought as she pressed into it.

His fingers slid slowly over her, as if memorizing every inch, and Niamh found herself whimpering, wanting more. “Alistair…”

“Patience, lass.” He laughed, the low sound sending shivers through her skin. He caressed her again, one finger on either side of her sex, and one finger tracing the seam, from her soft mound to her buttocks.

Slowly, gently, his finger slid inside her, pressing between the lips of her sex to caress her inner walls. Niamh gasped at the sensation, squirming against his hand as he pressed deeper inside, through the folds of her sex until he could brush his finger into her innermost channel and caress her core.

Alistair held still for a moment, then began to rock his hand back and forth with slow movements, his finger gliding in and out of her. Every motion sent another wave of heat and pleasure through her, adding to the building tension deep inside.

Alistair guided another finger inside her, stretching her, filling her channel with heat and pressure like she’d never known. His thumb slid between the outer folds and stroked over a small, sensitive nub of flesh. Niamh cried out, back arching as a bolt of pure pleasure traveled from his thumb up her spine. “Alistair!”

His thumb continued to caress her pleasure center, until Niamh felt she would go mad from the stimulus. She felt as if she was catching fire, the heat and pressure threatening to burn her up and carry her away. She whimpered in surprise as Alistair pulled his hand away. “What…?”

“Dinnae fret. I’ll nae leave ye wanting, but I want tae taste ye.”

She didn’t have time to ask what he meant before Alistair slid down the bed, put his head between her thighs, and slid his tongue across her sex.

Niamh shrieked in surprise. Alistair’s hands on her hips were the only thing, she thought, that kept her from leaping clear off the bed. Alistair laughed again, and the sound vibrated through her, before he licked her more.

Niamh lost track of everything – everything save the feel of Alistair’s mouth on her, and the pleasure that came with every stroke of his tongue. No two touches were the same, and she thought the ever-changing sensations would drive her mad.

Alistair’s tongue plunged deep, as if he wanted to taste her innermost core, then flicked lightly across the inner walls of the lips of her sex. Then he suckled lightly, as he had her breast, before plunging deep once more. Every stroke sent sparks along her nerves, and the heat and pressure that had diminished when he removed his hand began to build again.

The pleasure built, carrying her higher, filling her until she was sure she would fly away on a cloud of sparks and fire. She could hear herself whimpering, gasping Alistair’s name, begging for more, but had no attention, no energy to feel embarrassed or uncertain. All she knew was heat and pleasure and need.

Alistair’s tongue took her higher, higher, driving her mindless with pleasure she’d never guessed could exist. Then his tongue flicked up and curled around her pleasure center. He sucked, flicking his tongue again, and the world came apart in a wave of heat and light.

She was vaguely aware of her body arching, a shriek bursting from her throat as the fire burst through her entire body in a wave of pleasure that was beyond words. The wave of her release took her, carried her away helplessly, with Alistair’s arms around her as her only anchor.

There was no telling how long the wave of pleasure held her, only that it left her limp and boneless, her body filled with a sort of warm, glowing lassitude that made her feel as it she was swimming in honey.

“Sleep lass.” Alistair’s low, smoke-velvet voice washed over her, and Niamh followed it into sleep.

—

My dear reader,

I apologize for the interruption…