The Highlander's Forbidden Mistress (The Lairds Most Likely 7) - Page 48

Her knees felt like wet wool, and she tumbled back onto the mattress. Her touch on her body excited her, but more than that, Brock’s unabashed enjoyment built her responses beyond anything she’d achieved on her own.

"Show me."

Shyness was long forgotten. Her insides tightened with the irresistible drive to climax. She shifted to give him a clear view of her sex and how she stroked herself.

She raised her knees and began to explore the drenched folds of her quim. The air was thick with the scent of her need, musky and salty and hot. She found the place where her pleasure focused and played with it, until a violent convulsion of bliss shuddered through her. She cried out as every muscle in her body clenched in rapture.

She opened dazed eyes to see Brock stroking his length through his gaping trousers. His lips were full, and his eyes were half-closed in sensual delight.

She was so lost in what she’d just done to herself that she barely noticed when he surged to his feet. He paused near the bed to strip away his clothes in a careless rush that betrayed his frenzy.

"You’re the most exciting woman I’ve ever known," he said in a guttural voice.

She gave him a weary smile as he kneeled naked above her and without any preliminaries plunged into her full-length. Straightaway she toppled over into another climax. Better this time because he was with her.

"Oh, yes," she gasped as he moved inside her, seeming to penetrate so deep, he reached her very heart.

She dug her fingers into the hard muscles of his back, feeling the way they flexed with every thrust. She crossed her legs over his buttocks, angling up to take more of him. She felt his crisis approaching, and this time, she couldn’t bear to exile him to his effortful, lonely relief.

"Stay," she forced out.

***

Not sure he’d heard her aright, Brock went stock still. He raised his head so he could see her face. "Selina?"

She brought him down for a desperate kiss, even as her body gripped him tighter. He was so close, he nearly spilled.

"It’s our last night, Brock. I want all of you."

Blazing excitement crashed through him. The idea of giving Selina everything he had was intoxicating.

He stared into deep brown eyes that glowed with some profound emotion he couldn’t put a name to. "Are you sure?"

Her lips lengthened in a smile that threatened to break his heart. "I want to know how it feels when you give yourself to me. I want to remember when we were truly one."

Even through his physical extremity, her bravery and her vulnerability touched his black soul. "Selina, you humble me," he said in a voice that cracked.

He bent his head, and she greeted him with another of those earth-shattering kisses. Curse it, he’d planned to spend days on end kissing her. Now they came to their last few hours, and he realized that he hadn’t kissed her nearly enough.

A lifetime wouldn’t be enough.

"Come inside me, Brock. I want to take that away with me."

He knew what a concession she made with that request. Within little more than a week, she’d share Cecil’s bed. When she asked this of him, she gave Brock her ultimate loyalty.

He’d promised her joy, but compared to what she’d given him in return, that was an insignificant gift. She turned him into a man he didn’t recognize. A better, wiser, more principled man.

"Selina, I may leave you with child." He hated that his conscience, so quiet through his adult life, awoke now.

"I’d love that," she said fervently.

"But if the child looks like me…"

"I’d love that, too."

He frowned, even as his unruly appetites urged him to accept her offer before she thought better of it. Most of his life, he’d been at the mercy of those appetites. Selina tugged on his desire more than any other woman ever had. But she also called on his heart and mind in a way unheralded in his reckless, selfish existence. "What about Cecil?"

Tears glittered in her eyes, and she bucked her hips toward him with an insistence that smashed through him like cannon fire. "Don’t talk about Cecil." Her voice broke as she went on. "In fact, don’t talk at all, damn you."

Tags: Anna Campbell The Lairds Most Likely Historical
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