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

His smile conveyed the tenderness that cut straight through to her heart like a knife through butter. "That’s a start."

She paused. "And I like kissing you."

Selina suited her actions to her words and dragged his head forward until their lips met once more. This time there was no teasing. Naked passion flared, and the desire coiling in her stomach expanded into a sharp ache.

When she shifted on his knees in an instinctive attempt to find some surcease from that throbbing, needy emptiness, he groaned against her lips. The hands holding her hips tightened to the edge of bruising. She waited in an agony of suspense for him to take it further, until she recalled that what happened next was up to her.

Selina retreated far enough away to suck in a breath tinged with the musky scent of arousal. Hers as well as his. The smell of his skin had taunted her since last night, when he’d made his wicked proposition. Now that heated male essence set her senses on fire.

She wanted Brock to plunge into her. She wanted him to fill her, until every barrier between them dissolved. She wanted to reach a climax while a man she desired was inside her.

Her vision was blurry with need when she released the shoulder she clutched so frantically. "Hold onto me."

"Always."

Even in her urgency, she knew that was just lovers’ talk, not to be trusted. But she trusted the firmness of his grip enough to reach down with both hands and fumble with the buttons of his breeches.

"You’re killing me," he ground out, bucking his hips up.

She had the giddy feeling that she might tumble to the floor. Biting her lip, she struggled to concentrate through the blood pounding in her ears. "I’ve never undressed a man before. Be patient."

At last, she found the trick of it. Not that the fastenings were complicated. But clarity of thought was impossible when she

was in such a fever.

They both heaved a sigh of relief when his rod rose from his open breeches. She curled a shaking hand around him, marveling at the heat and power in her grip. He groaned again and closed his eyes as if he were in pain.

"Am I hurting you?" Selina asked, despite his earlier assurances.

"I’m dying," he muttered, then opened eyes that gleamed with wicked humor. "For want of you."

She stifled a giggle and squeezed, until strain tightened his striking features. "You’ll have to teach me how to touch you."

Humor twisted his mouth. "You’re doing a fine job on your own."

Gripping more tightly, she slid her hand up and down, feeling the hard veins pulsing under the silky skin. His organ fascinated her. It seemed a privilege to discover Brock’s nakedness.

With his wife, Roderick had been a modest man, although she couldn’t imagine he was half so shy with his whores. All she’d known of her husband’s genitals was as a hard and painful presence shoving into her.

In gratitude, she kissed Brock. His unabashed desire set off another of those hot surges of craving. She shifted until she clasped him tight between her spread legs. Moving with the carriage, she descended to take him with remarkable ease. It was as if she’d been created to fit him.

"Selina…" he said on a long drawn-out hiss of pleasure, as his hands flexed on her hips under the fall of her skirts. He looked eager and hungry, but she caught the ghost of something more profound in his eyes.

The vehicle’s sway shifted her over him in a most arousing way. She’d never thought of enjoying a lover’s touch in a speeding vehicle. The experience proved…piquant.

Cautiously she rose, drawing a long, guttural groan from him. His grasp tightened as she lowered. She curled her hands over his shoulders, although she knew he wouldn’t let her fall.

"Use me," he said in a gravelly voice.

"I will." She hardly noted what she said. She was too aware of the hard, throbbing flesh filling her. Pleasure spiraled as she settled into a rhythm that matched the carriage’s lurching and her own impulses. She gasped for air as her movements grew faster, uncoordinated, desperate.

The need for release coiled tighter and tighter, as the sweet friction of their union pushed her toward the edge. Brock tilted his hips and went deeper.

"Let me," he said.

"Yes." She cried out as he reached beneath her skirts to find her sex. The world dissolved into cascading stars. Hurtling through an agony of delight, she clenched hard around him.

Brock caught her up for a carnal, openmouthed kiss before he lifted her off him. She lay back, struggling to keep her place on the seat as the coach swayed.