Page 31 of Highlander’s Vengeful Seduction

Donal kissed her again, a seal of his love. Soon, though, they both wanted more, and their kiss turned desperate, Vanora’s fingers curling around the fabric of Donal’s shirt.

It was not like their first time. There was an urgency that there wasn’t there before, and Vanora all but tore Donal’s shirt off, throwing it on the floor. Her fingers roamed over his chest, tracing the contours of his body. She snaked a hand down his hose to feel him, gasping as he twitched in her hand.

Donal didn’t have any patience, either. He, too, pulled Vanora’s clothes off—this time tearing some of the buttons to get to her skin. Soon, he had her naked in front of him. The sight of her gave him pause. He had only seen her in the dark before, and now, seeing the swell of her breasts in the sunlight, the flush of her skin as he took her in, and the thatch of dark curls between her legs made him drunk with desire.

Donal led her to the chair, and Vanora went easily, the fabric of the cushion soft against her buttocks. She frowned at him, wondering why he was still half-dressed. She, too, wanted to see all of him, but any questions that she had died in her throat when Donal knelt between her legs and spread them apart with two strong hands on her thighs.

Vanora watched, transfixed, as Donal peppered kisses on the pale skin of her thighs, his fingers digging into her flesh with an exquisite hint of pain. A strangled scream, one that she barely managed to muffle, escaped her when she first felt Donal’s tongue against her.

Vanora threw her head back, quivering as Donal sucked and licked around her cleft, the heat of his tongue driving her mad with desire. She let Donal manhandle her, letting him push her legs up and further apart, letting him get even closer to her, as though he wanted to reach her very core.

When Donal found that spot that always made her scream in pleasure, she grabbed a fistful of his hair, silently directing him there. Donal worked the spot with his tongue, every swipe of its silky tip drawing a moan out of Vanora and drowning her in pleasure.

Her pleasure grew and grew, rising over any other sensation, and she soon found herself shaking through her climax, thighs clenching tightly around Donal’s head.

Vanora collapsed against the chair, her legs falling open once more. Donal kissed his way up her body, his mouth closing around her breast as he sucked on a tender nipple before he came up for a kiss.

Vanora could feel her wetness trickle down her thighs, and she knew her body craved more. She craved Donal—she hungered for him like fire hungers for timber, and she wanted to pleasure him, too.

“Mo ghràdh,” Donal whispered against Vanora’s lips, as her hand found him under his hose once more. “Tell me what ye want, and I’ll give it tae ye.”

“I want ye,” Vanora said.

“Ye have me.”

Vanora didn’t appreciate being teased, especially at times like that. “I want ye inside me, I want tae feel how ye fill me. I want ye tae take me, mak’ me yers.”

Donal didn’t need any further invitation. He grabbed Vanora by the hips and flipped her over so that she was facing the back of her chair and was kneeling on the seat. He admired the swell of her buttocks, grabbing them and kneading the flesh.

Vanora whined, high and impatient, and Donal couldn’t deny her anything anymore. He got rid of the rest of his garments, and before she could complain any more, he entered her, a small, broken moan escaping his lips.

Vanora loved the sounds that Donal made when he was inside of her—as though he could hardly believe it, as though it was the greatest pleasure in the world. She responded with a moan of her own as she felt him part her already-sensitive cleft with his member, his hips thrusting slowly, torturously so.

Vanora’s senses were worked to their limit, leaving her gasping every time Donal hit something deep inside her, a fire growing in her belly once more, the heat radiating all over her body. She held onto the chair with trembling fingers, every thrust of Donal’s hips fuelling that fire until her pleasure crashed over her once more, bringing her to completion.

Her pulsing flesh seemed to draw Donal’s climax out of him, too, and he emptied himself inside her with a strangled moan as he collapsed against her.

“I wish I could keep ye in bed all day,” Donal said, huffing out a small laugh against Vanora’s shoulders. “I dinnae want tae be away from ye, mo ghràdh.”

Donal hadn’t moved, and he was still inside her when Vanora turned her head to look at him, answering him with a laugh of her own.

“Weel…marry me, and then we can spend all day in bed if ye want,” she said, though she doubted that being married would make any difference. “Though we must take a break sometime…for bannocks.”

Donal laughed again, this time pulling away from Vanora and bringing her the blanket from his bed so that she would not be cold.

“Aye, for bannocks.”

Donal lay down on the bed, and Vanora joined him, slotting herself against his side. She couldn’t help but marvel at how well the two of them fit together, like two pieces of a whole. She didn’t know what it was, but perhaps, she thought, the two of them were made for each other, born to complete each other. It sounded strange, but then again, stranger things had happened in the past few days.

The two of them stayed there, intertwined for a long time, perhaps longer than they should have. Vanora was certain that someone would be looking for them, either her father or Angus and the laird, or perhaps even Mrs. Gallach. Naturally, none of them could know what was happening in Donal’s room, so Vanora tried to extricate herself from Donal’s vise grip, even though he was reluctant to let her go, wanting to hold into her seemingly forever.

“Where are ye going, mo ghràdh?” Donal asked, frowning when Vanora finally managed to pull away from him and stand, stretching her limbs. “Dinnae ye want tae stay in bed?”

“No, ye are the one who wants tae stay in bed,” Vanora reminded him with a fond grin as she began to pull her clothes back on. “T’will do nae good if someone finds us here like this. We arenae married yet.”

“Aye.” Donal seemed to consider that for a moment, his brow furrowing even more, as it always did when he was deep in thought. “We should marry, then,” he said, as though it was the obvious solution.

It was Vanora’s time to frown, and she did so as she looked at Donal in confusion. “Aye,” she said. “That is the plan, isnae it? We’ll marry, and then ye can have me in bed as much as yer heart desires.”