The Highlander's Lost Lady (The Lairds Most Likely 3)

A strange, powerful sensation rose. A little like what she’d felt when he’d joined his body with hers. But compared to the mighty waves crashing over her now, that had been a mere wisp of response.

She gave a whimper and shifted to urge him on. Impatience made her restless.

Diarmid leaned closer and placed his mouth where his hands had created such havoc. Shock made her stiffen and cry out as wet heat settled over her.

He raised his head and sinful surprise gripped her to see his lips glistening with her female juices. Until tonight, she’d never been wet with need. Until tonight she’d never known that a woman could need.

“Diarmid…”

“You’ll like this. Trust me.”

“I do, but…”

Devilish knowledge lit his face. “I’ve wanted to taste ye since that first night.”

“This seems so wicked,” she said weakly.

A huff of laughter escaped. “Och, I certainly hope so.”

Before she could digest that answer, he lowered his head to kiss her private places. Astonishment held her quiescent under his mouth, before a blast of sensation so pure and piercing struck that she cried out again. In helpless surrender, her thighs opened wider to invite him to feast on her.

He did.

Fiona felt the scrape of his teeth and the soothing flicker of his tongue. Except the touch wasn’t soothing at all, but teasing and taunting and tormenting.

Another shudder jolted through her. And another. Until the quakes came so fast, she could no longer count them. Boneless with bliss, she flopped back onto the sheets and gave herself up to his brazen incursions.

At first, she was only aware of the unprecedented sensations rushing through her body, turning her blood to flame. Gradually her response focused on one particular place that his mouth returned to over and over.

Something new and overwhelming began to coil in the base of her belly. Like an ever-tightening spiral of brightest gold. She gasped as the feeling grew sharper. Her hands tangled in Diarmid’s hair, while she fumbled for purchase in this whirling new world.

Sounds of sensual enjoyment escaped him, something between a purr and a growl. His hands stroked up and down her legs, the caresses creating a counterpoint to the movement of his greedy lips.

Fiona should be shocked. She’d never imagined anyone doing such a thing to her—or wanting to. But she’d moved into a universe completely alien from what she’d known before. She lay beneath his attentions and let the pleasure build layer by layer.

Because even in her innocence, she couldn’t call what flooded through her anything but pleasure. Even if it was pleasure with an edge of striving, of insistence for an end.

Instinctively she pressed up toward his mouth. Then—heaven save her—the pressure changed. She could hardly believe that he’d pushed that clever tongue inside her. With a broken moan, she tugged sharply at his hair.

Still he went on. Still that wild longing rose and rose, until she was entangled in suspense close to pain. Her breath emerged in ragged gasps, and tears pricked at her eyes.

“Diarmid…” she moaned, at the point of begging him to stop, to end this torture that hovered so close to ecstasy.

He didn’t answer her. Or not in words.

Instead he returned to that place that throbbed with need. Fiona sank into a dark velvet world charged with lightning, as he circled that place with his tongue, then drew hard.

A towering surge of heat flooded her. She felt his teeth on that sensitive spot, and everything dissolved into white-hot, perfect rapture that buffeted her across some invisible barrier. She tumbled into a dizzying free fall, where she swooped through endless skies of brilliant light.

Through the clamor, she released a high, broken sound of ecstasy. Every muscle clenched as she writhed in delight. She closed her eyes and vanished into the wild colors rioting through her head, the incendiary waves battering her body.

How long did she rem

ain pinned to that starlit rack? Who knew? Her body seemed to shudder for an eternity. When she slumped back against the sheets, she felt as loose as a bolt of silk draped across the bed.

She gulped to fill lungs that ached after the violent, astonishing, transfiguring paroxysms. Slowly she opened eyes that until now had been blind to so much. Hazy sight took in the black beams on the whitewashed ceiling.

That couldn’t be right. Surely she should see the vaults of heaven instead.