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Authors: Bewitching the Highlander
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pixie-bright features. “What is yours?”
The world was foggy, tired. “The lambkin,” he murmured. Old memories flittered through him. “The lambkin and mayhap more.”
“More what?”
“Should na a dream kiss more and talk less, lass?”
“Where do you hurt?”
He thought of the hours gone by. His head ached foggily, but the wracking pain almostseemed like naught but a distant dream frayed by time. Nevertheless, he put his fingers to his brow.
Reaching up, she smoothed back his hair. Her touch was feather soft, a sweet caress of hope against his skin. Her kiss was warm magic upon his forehead. Her hair brushed the bare skin of his chest. Contentment washed over him in lulling waves.
“Where else?”
He touched his arm. She kissed it. Tingling sensations sailed smoothly through him. He put his hand to his chest. She trailed liquid fingers across his skin, lighting a path, healing with touch, then kissed him where his heart beat heavy against his ribs.
Raising her amber gaze to his, she whispered, “Where now?” in a voice so soft he but felt it in his soul.
He lowered his hand to the burn on his belly, and she bent, letting her hair lap gently against his injured side. He drifted away on the sweet sensations. Her lips were a balm against his wound, kissing gently, easing the pain, heightening his senses until she drew slowly away.
Her tawny eyes were heavy-lidded now, her lips ruddy and plump. “Where?” she murmured.
Reaching down, he pulled the gray blanket aside. He was indeed naked, and hopelessly ready, as hard and ripe as a gourd.
She shifted her eyes to it, then tilted back her head and stood up.
Not until that moment did he realize he’d been entirely wrong about her gown. It was not auburn at all, but pale and sheer. It flowed from her alabaster shoulders like gossamer magic. Candlelight shone through the gauzy fabric, kissing her sweet curves with light, brushing her straining nipples with dusky color.
He rose to his elbows. Against his belly, his engorged desire danced with need. She watched it, nostrils flared, then reached up and untied the single lace that held the magical gown in place. It slipped off one shoulder, and with that simple movement, Keelan felt the lingering remnants of pain recede like a wayward dream.
The gown dipped lower, revealing her breasts. Bright capped and lovely, they were as firm and round as ripe melons.
Desire washed over him, pulling him tight.
She smiled and let the gown dip toward her navel. It was a perfect hollow in the center of her being. He reached for her and she came. Her skin was velvet soft beneath his fingertips. He slipped his hand around her back and pulled herclose beside the bed.
Her skin smelled like earthy magic when he kissed her hip. He slipped his hand along her spine. She dipped her head back and moaned as he slid his fingers between the firm round hillocks of her succulent bottom, and then the gown fell away, revealing delicate curls at the apex of her thighs. He kissed them. She shuddered and lifted one knee, placing it on the bed, opening to him. He caressed the inner softness of her thigh, and she moaned. The husky, midnight sound was almost his undoing. He slipped his hand along her leg. Feeling the liquid heat of her desire against his fingers, he rasped a prayer to a generous God even as she mounted the bed. He made room for her, eager beyond words. But she did not stretch out beside him. Instead, propped on hands and knees, she turned and straddled him.
Her buttocks shone in the flickering light, and he could do nothing but smooth his fingers over the satin curves. She wriggled beneath his touch. He slipped his hand lower, ready to reach between her thighs, but in that moment she kissed his aching shaft.
Lightning struck him. He jerked his head back into the pillow a moment before she sucked him into the velvety heaven of her mouth. Keelangasped at the glorious torture and clawed the sheet beneath him. She was liquid
The world was foggy, tired. “The lambkin,” he murmured. Old memories flittered through him. “The lambkin and mayhap more.”
“More what?”
“Should na a dream kiss more and talk less, lass?”
“Where do you hurt?”
He thought of the hours gone by. His head ached foggily, but the wracking pain almostseemed like naught but a distant dream frayed by time. Nevertheless, he put his fingers to his brow.
Reaching up, she smoothed back his hair. Her touch was feather soft, a sweet caress of hope against his skin. Her kiss was warm magic upon his forehead. Her hair brushed the bare skin of his chest. Contentment washed over him in lulling waves.
“Where else?”
He touched his arm. She kissed it. Tingling sensations sailed smoothly through him. He put his hand to his chest. She trailed liquid fingers across his skin, lighting a path, healing with touch, then kissed him where his heart beat heavy against his ribs.
Raising her amber gaze to his, she whispered, “Where now?” in a voice so soft he but felt it in his soul.
He lowered his hand to the burn on his belly, and she bent, letting her hair lap gently against his injured side. He drifted away on the sweet sensations. Her lips were a balm against his wound, kissing gently, easing the pain, heightening his senses until she drew slowly away.
Her tawny eyes were heavy-lidded now, her lips ruddy and plump. “Where?” she murmured.
Reaching down, he pulled the gray blanket aside. He was indeed naked, and hopelessly ready, as hard and ripe as a gourd.
She shifted her eyes to it, then tilted back her head and stood up.
Not until that moment did he realize he’d been entirely wrong about her gown. It was not auburn at all, but pale and sheer. It flowed from her alabaster shoulders like gossamer magic. Candlelight shone through the gauzy fabric, kissing her sweet curves with light, brushing her straining nipples with dusky color.
He rose to his elbows. Against his belly, his engorged desire danced with need. She watched it, nostrils flared, then reached up and untied the single lace that held the magical gown in place. It slipped off one shoulder, and with that simple movement, Keelan felt the lingering remnants of pain recede like a wayward dream.
The gown dipped lower, revealing her breasts. Bright capped and lovely, they were as firm and round as ripe melons.
Desire washed over him, pulling him tight.
She smiled and let the gown dip toward her navel. It was a perfect hollow in the center of her being. He reached for her and she came. Her skin was velvet soft beneath his fingertips. He slipped his hand around her back and pulled herclose beside the bed.
Her skin smelled like earthy magic when he kissed her hip. He slipped his hand along her spine. She dipped her head back and moaned as he slid his fingers between the firm round hillocks of her succulent bottom, and then the gown fell away, revealing delicate curls at the apex of her thighs. He kissed them. She shuddered and lifted one knee, placing it on the bed, opening to him. He caressed the inner softness of her thigh, and she moaned. The husky, midnight sound was almost his undoing. He slipped his hand along her leg. Feeling the liquid heat of her desire against his fingers, he rasped a prayer to a generous God even as she mounted the bed. He made room for her, eager beyond words. But she did not stretch out beside him. Instead, propped on hands and knees, she turned and straddled him.
Her buttocks shone in the flickering light, and he could do nothing but smooth his fingers over the satin curves. She wriggled beneath his touch. He slipped his hand lower, ready to reach between her thighs, but in that moment she kissed his aching shaft.
Lightning struck him. He jerked his head back into the pillow a moment before she sucked him into the velvety heaven of her mouth. Keelangasped at the glorious torture and clawed the sheet beneath him. She was liquid
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