Page 75 of The Highlander’s Tempting Touch

“Alistair…” She raised her hips in his grasp, pleading, needing. “Please… I want…”

“Aye?”

“I want ye tae touch me.”

“I am.”

Niamh flushed, surprised that he could tease her, when she could see the straining erection of his own arousal. “Please… claim me.”

“I am. Every… single… inch… o’ ye.” He bent his head, but instead of using his tongue as she anticipated, he blew gently on the wet, heated flesh. The air burst from Niamh’s lungs in a strangled gasp as she shuddered and arched in his grasp. The cold on the heated skin sent a wave of pleasure and sensation crashing through her like a wave.

Before she could react, or even let the pleasure diminish enough to think of reacting, Alistair bent his head further and slid his tongue over the lips of her sex, from her buttocks to the top of the seam. He licked her once, then again, lapping up her arousal with firm strokes that made her shudder and squirm around his mouth.

His hands shifted, palm stroking across her mound, providing a different kind of pressure, before his thumbs gently teased open her entrance and his tongue slid inside her. Niamh shuddered and moaned with pleasure, almost mindless with the sensation of his tongue caressing her inner walls, plunging deep to tease her core, while his hands cupped and stroked along the outer edges of her sex.

She was drowning and burning all at once, caught up in a relentless storm of heat, heightening desire and need, as well as waves of sensation. She wanted more, needed more. She could feel her release coming, the maelstrom of heat and pleasure winding higher and tighter, growing stronger.

Alistair’s tongue slid across her pleasure center, then laved it with a strong, sure stroke, and the wave rose higher, threatening to sweep her away.

At that point Alistair pulled back, and Niamh heard herself gasping in frustration, in need and desire so deep it left her almost mindless. “Alistair… what…”

“What, Niamh?”

“Please… I want ye. I want yer touch. I want ye inside me.” She could hardly understand the words she was speaking, her body alive with wanting and aching for him. “Please…”

Alistair slid up her body, covering her, and Niamh felt the hard, heavy length of his shaft as it pressed against her thigh, then moved to press against her entrance, slick with her arousal. She drew her thighs apart wider, welcoming him. “I want ye.”

The head of his shaft slipped past the outer lips of sex, hot and rigid and larger than his fingers or his tongue had been. The stretching sensation burned, but it was a pleasurable sort of burn that made her arch to try and take him deeper.

Alistair shifted with her, a deep laugh rumbling from his mouth and through her like thunder in the midst of a storm. “So impatient. But I told ye, I’m nae plannin’ tae rush this.”

Niamh shivered, her whole body aching and restless as Alistair slid into her with painstaking, maddening slowness. Every shift sent another wave of pleasure and heat through her, but it was never quite enough. Not enough for her release, and it was maddening.

The heat of him, the pressure of being slowly filled, her innermost core penetrated by his manhood, all of it was almost overwhelming, and yet Alistair held her on the cusp of release, never taking her far enough to fall over the edge.

She felt it when his shaft touched a barrier inside her and her breath caught, knowing what it was, and what it meant. For a moment, old fears tried to resurface, even amid the warmth and the need that engulfed her. Then Alistair’s mouth claimed hers in a kiss, and his hand went to her breast, teasing the taut nipple and sending sparks through her.

His hips shifted, and she felt the sharp sting as her maidenhead was breached, her body arching in response. Then the pain was muted, overwhelmed by the sensation of him sliding further into her, filling her, claiming her, pressing deeper until he was fully inside her, their hips pressed together.

For a moment, they both lay still, as her body adjusted to the sensation of being filled and stretched. Then Niamh shifted, restless and needing. “Alistair…”

He withdrew, then thrust again and again, setting up a slow, steady pace that was as maddening as it was relentless. Niamh let go, let herself get lost in the spiraling waves of pleasure and heat, the feel of his body within hers, his shaft sliding along her channel, the heat of him pressed against her.

The waves climbed higher, winding tighter and carrying her further than she’d ever imagined possible. She felt as though she was going to turn to ash or lose her wits entirely, as if she was in danger of coming undone at the seams. Her breath came raggedly, mirroring his, her body rocking in time with Alistair’s thrusts as he claimed her for his own.

It was pleasure beyond bearing, need beyond thought, heat like high summer, and she could barely separate the sensations any more.

Alistair shifted his position, withdrew nearly all the way from her. The next thrust stroked across her pleasure center as it slid inside her, and Niamh arched with a cry of ecstasy as the world shattered around her, filling her vision with a haze of light as the wave of her release swept her away. Her hips thrust upward, her channel and the muscles of her feminine core clenched around Alistair as her body shuddered in pleasure and release.

Alistair’s movement faltered, his rhythm broken as his hips stiffened and pressed against hers. She felt his release claim him, his seed pumping into her as he pressed tight against her, and the sensation sent another wave of pleasure and heat through her.

The second wave of her release, and the aftershock that followed it, rocking through her body like waves on a shore, proved to be too much for her, and Niamh’s last coherent thoughts disappeared as her climax caught her and whirled her away into a maelstrom of sensation, warmth and light, then dropped her, gently and seamlessly, into a darkness tinged only by the most pleasant of dreams.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Samhain

Alistair scowled at the fireplace in his office, sipping at the glass of whiskey he’d poured himself earlier. He’d have downed the entire thing and thrown the glass into the fire, then gone on to finish the bottle. Other matters however, restrained him.