Read Online How to Abduct a Highland Lord by Karen Hawkins - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Karen Hawkins
Tags: Fiction, General, Romance, Historical, Regency, Man-Woman Relationships, Love Stories, England - Social Life and Customs - 19th Century, Scotland - Social life and customs - 19th century, Clans - Scotland
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reached down to undo her boot laces, her chemise pulling lushly over her rounded ass.
Jack admired the curve, his fingers curling at the thought of cupping her to him.
“The laces are knotted,” she muttered, bending down farther to examine the problem. Her hair fell to one shoulder, pins pinging to the floor as the heavy strands fell loose. She sighed with exasperation, then took out the remaining pins and tucked her hair behind her ears.
Jack watched, his heart pounding a bit harder. Her hair was silken and thick, gleaming rich sable in the firelight. He wanted to slide his hands through her hair, sink into the clinging softness.
God, she was beautiful.
Unaware of his barely held control, she pulled and tugged on the knot. “Blast it!” she fumed. “I can’t untie them; the laces are in knots.”
He caught her wrist. “Leave them. I cannot wait.” He pulled her against him hard and took her mouth once more, kissing her deeply as he slid her chemise from her shoulders, pushing it down her arms, to her waist, and over her boots.
A lace caught on a heel, and he yanked it free, ignoring the tearing sound. Jack slid his arm around Fiona’s waist and lifted her to the center of the bed, where she lay clothed only in her pale skin, glossy hair, silk stockings, and dark blue leather half boots.
Jack stepped back to enjoy the sight before him. There was something about the contrast of her wanton body and the prim boots that stirred him even more. Something about the way her stockings rose from those boots to caress her pale skin and travel up her legs to the middle of her bare, rounded thighs.
Her creamy skin contrasted vividly with the long sable hair fanned over his pillows and the tight curls that hid the secrets between her thighs.
Never had Jack seen anything so enticing, so lovely. She lifted her arms and pulled him to her, her naked chest against his. Jack sank into her embrace, soaking in her sweetness. He tasted her lips, her cheeks, pressing kisses to her slender throat and shoulders. Every inch of her fascinated and intrigued him. Every kiss drew a gasp from her lips and urged him on.
He found her lips again and kissed her deeply, caressing her, exploring her, inhaling her.
She moaned against his mouth, and with that one, primal sound, Jack finally lost control.
He pressed against her, her legs parting beneath his, her hands tugging at him, pulling him closer.
She was intensely aroused; he could see it, smell it, taste it. So turgid he ached, he hooked his hand beneath one of her knees and pulled it high to his waist, his manhood pressing against her soft, damp opening.
Fiona gasped, her head thrown back, her eyes closing. “Yes!” she said between panting breaths. “Please!”
Still, he held back. As crazed as he was to be inside her, he wanted her to want him even more.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he pressed himself into her, gritting his teeth as her tight wetness encircled him with the firmness of a gloved hand.
Her lips parted, and she gasped loudly, her eyes flying open to meet his. “Jack.”
She pressed against him, encouraging him to move faster, her hands tight on his shoulders.
He increased his movements, captured by the pure pleasure of her expression.
“Yes,” she gasped.
Jack moved faster, consumed with the feel of her. She stretched about him, deliciously warm and wet, gasping his name, writhing beneath him, her heels pushing against his ass, pressing him forward. Sensations spiraled through him at the touch of hard leather, at the sounds of her gasps of pleasure, at the scent of her mingled with lilac.
He hovered on the razor-sharp edge of control.
“God, yes,” she said, pressing him forward, straining to take even more of him.
One of her leather boots rubbed against his hip, and he groaned at the shock of sensation,
Jack admired the curve, his fingers curling at the thought of cupping her to him.
“The laces are knotted,” she muttered, bending down farther to examine the problem. Her hair fell to one shoulder, pins pinging to the floor as the heavy strands fell loose. She sighed with exasperation, then took out the remaining pins and tucked her hair behind her ears.
Jack watched, his heart pounding a bit harder. Her hair was silken and thick, gleaming rich sable in the firelight. He wanted to slide his hands through her hair, sink into the clinging softness.
God, she was beautiful.
Unaware of his barely held control, she pulled and tugged on the knot. “Blast it!” she fumed. “I can’t untie them; the laces are in knots.”
He caught her wrist. “Leave them. I cannot wait.” He pulled her against him hard and took her mouth once more, kissing her deeply as he slid her chemise from her shoulders, pushing it down her arms, to her waist, and over her boots.
A lace caught on a heel, and he yanked it free, ignoring the tearing sound. Jack slid his arm around Fiona’s waist and lifted her to the center of the bed, where she lay clothed only in her pale skin, glossy hair, silk stockings, and dark blue leather half boots.
Jack stepped back to enjoy the sight before him. There was something about the contrast of her wanton body and the prim boots that stirred him even more. Something about the way her stockings rose from those boots to caress her pale skin and travel up her legs to the middle of her bare, rounded thighs.
Her creamy skin contrasted vividly with the long sable hair fanned over his pillows and the tight curls that hid the secrets between her thighs.
Never had Jack seen anything so enticing, so lovely. She lifted her arms and pulled him to her, her naked chest against his. Jack sank into her embrace, soaking in her sweetness. He tasted her lips, her cheeks, pressing kisses to her slender throat and shoulders. Every inch of her fascinated and intrigued him. Every kiss drew a gasp from her lips and urged him on.
He found her lips again and kissed her deeply, caressing her, exploring her, inhaling her.
She moaned against his mouth, and with that one, primal sound, Jack finally lost control.
He pressed against her, her legs parting beneath his, her hands tugging at him, pulling him closer.
She was intensely aroused; he could see it, smell it, taste it. So turgid he ached, he hooked his hand beneath one of her knees and pulled it high to his waist, his manhood pressing against her soft, damp opening.
Fiona gasped, her head thrown back, her eyes closing. “Yes!” she said between panting breaths. “Please!”
Still, he held back. As crazed as he was to be inside her, he wanted her to want him even more.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he pressed himself into her, gritting his teeth as her tight wetness encircled him with the firmness of a gloved hand.
Her lips parted, and she gasped loudly, her eyes flying open to meet his. “Jack.”
She pressed against him, encouraging him to move faster, her hands tight on his shoulders.
He increased his movements, captured by the pure pleasure of her expression.
“Yes,” she gasped.
Jack moved faster, consumed with the feel of her. She stretched about him, deliciously warm and wet, gasping his name, writhing beneath him, her heels pushing against his ass, pressing him forward. Sensations spiraled through him at the touch of hard leather, at the sounds of her gasps of pleasure, at the scent of her mingled with lilac.
He hovered on the razor-sharp edge of control.
“God, yes,” she said, pressing him forward, straining to take even more of him.
One of her leather boots rubbed against his hip, and he groaned at the shock of sensation,
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