The Highlander's Forbidden Mistress (The Lairds Most Likely 7)

"Aye, I’m just a little overheated."

"I’m glad. It makes me feel less at a disadvantage to know that you’re on edge, too."

A grunt of amusement escaped him. "On edge? I’m a breath away from insanity."

"Is that bad?"

He bit back another groan as a bump rubbed her against him. "It is when I want to give you pleasure."

"Knowing you want me gives me pleasure."

It was his turn to be lost for words. "Selina…"

"Kiss me, Brock," she whispered, tilting her face toward his and sliding her hand along his shoulder to the nape of his neck. "I love it when you kiss me."

How could he resist? This time when he kissed her, she displayed none of last night’s hesitation. She opened her mouth, and the kiss soon turned hot and voracious. By the time he pulled back, they were both panting.

With avid hands, he hauled up her skirts to reveal a froth of petticoats and long, beautiful legs. Sheer linen drawers covered her to the knees, where sky-blue garters held up white stockings.

He ran his finger around the silk ribbon. "Pretty."

Much prettier than anything else he’d seen her wear, in fact. This glimpse into a hidden sensuality was intriguing.

He glanced up at her intent face. "You keep surprising me."

She raked her fingers through his hair as if she stroked a big cat. "Nobody can see to disapprove."

"I can see, and I approve very much." He slid one hand under the loose leg of her drawers, and they both gasped when his hand met bare flesh.

He caressed her gently, venturing higher with each touch, until the linen rucked up and he cupped the damp heat of her mound. She released an audible explosion of breath, as his hand crept into her cleft and teased the heated flesh. She was slick and satiny to his touch, and when he curled his thumb over the center of her pleasure, he heard one of tho

se hums of pleasure he loved.

He turned his head and nuzzled her soft blond hair. "May I take off your drawers?"

"Yes," she said on a long hiss, as he increased the pressure on the pearl of flesh that stiffened under his caresses.

"Thank you." He glanced a kiss across her ear and felt her shiver as his breath brushed the sensitive skin.

He was in an agony of desire, hard and aching. He’d like to rip her drawers away, but he forced his shaking hands to do their best to undo the tapes. Not since he was a raw boy had a lover made him tremble. Selina Martin possessed a magic that beggared his sophistication.

"These knots are an infernal nuisance," he grated out.

She reached down and with embarrassing ease, undid the ties. Then she wriggled some more to get the damned rag off. He wished he had torn her drawers away. As she shifted about on his lap, he suffered an agony of frustration and delight. After what felt like an eternity, the frail linen garment slipped to the floor.

The carriage’s jolting made his torment worse – or better. Every time she bumped his aching cock, he came close to spilling. He ground his teeth and told himself he must wait, but he wanted her too much. He, the great master of sensuality, fell victim to his primitive urges.

He caught a glimpse of white thighs and a nest of light brown curls as she tortured him with more sliding and bobbing. Brock pressed back against the seat, so she had room to place her bent knees on either side of his hips. The scent of female excitement was more intoxicating than the finest French brandy.

"Like this?" she asked.

"Aye. And hold onto my shoulders."

Brock reached down, his knuckles skimming her glistening pubic hair, and ripped at the buttons on his breeches. He was in a frenzy to plunge inside her.

His dick sprang free and over the pounding of his heart, he heard her gasp. "You’re so much bigger than…"

Than her late husband. "Touch me."