Page 7 of To Wed a Highlander
His bold fingers didn’t stop their questing just because she’d willed them to. Instead, they found the thin skin at the juncture of her thighs, so delicate and sensitive, and then reached even higher, to part the satin folds of her penetrated body.
She jerked with the shock of pleasure that thrilled through her at his touch. The muscles of her sex tightened with the movement, pulling a strangled sound from the Berserker’s throat.
If she’d thought she’d been aroused before, she’d been lying to herself.
As the pad of his thumb brushed the sensitive, swelling nub of sensation, her sex drenched his with an embarrassment of slick moisture as she encompassed the pulsating column of his manhood with delicious difficulty.
Her body stretched to accommodate him, the pain a sharp burn that dulled to a pleasurable ache.
Goddess, but she’d never been so aroused. Her body never so eager to take a man. All of him.
His eyes were no longer cold, but burned with black fire as he bared his teeth in a hiss of pleasure. Though his gaze was lost, his clever fingers knew exactly what they were doing, drawing the moisture of her body toward the tight nub of sensation above where their bodies joined.
It took two lifts of her thighs and a few flicks of his thumb before Kenna was seized by a climax so quelling and unexpected all she could do was jerk and shudder on top of his cock. Her every movement was involuntary, her every breath a sob, as frantic pleasure coiled and broke upon her in relentless waves.
Somewhere, a dim part of her noted with some tingles and itches, a stitch and a burn, her back knitted itself together. The rent flesh and welts cauterized and mended until it was as though they had never been.
It had begun. She drew on him like a vampire, feeding on his passion, his need, and his brutality. His magick. It wasn’t like her Druid magick. It was different, more of an ability, really, but it fed her like a gluttonous royal, filling the cracks and fissures in her body and soul.
The orgasm didn’t ebb until she was red-faced and dazed with shock and repletion.
Beneath her, black-eyed and perfect, a sheen of moisture gave the Berserker an almost metallic patina in the fading light. The evening drew shadows along the paths carved by thick veins beneath his skin, gilding his frame with strength and vitality. As though he could feel her healing, he lifted himself until he could test the new, smooth skin of her back.
With a victorious snarl, he pulled her more tightly down over him, angling up in a demanding thrust.
How foolish she’d been to think he’d let her have control.
Before she could form a coherent thought, she was beneath him. He drew her knees up and thrust forward in strong, angled strokes.
Kenna panicked for a moment, feeling the force of his power surge within her. She was losing control of this quickly, but somehow, the delicious feel of his masculine weight pressing her hot flesh into the cold, clean floor seduced her as nothing else had.
He didn’t hold back, didn’t take care, but pounded all his desire, need, and passion into her body with fast, driving command.
Kenna didn’t want him to stop. Couldn’t allow him to continue. It was too much, too soon. He would give her more of his power than he could stand. She would take from him what he was not willing to part with.
“I can’t,” she whimpered, then cried out, pushing up against him with her hips and her arms. Her intimate flesh gripped at his cock in spasms that she fought, but they came upon her with hot, crushing inevitability.
He gave no quarter, his rhythm increasing. His brows drew together as though he was in pain, his eyes disappearing behind his lids. His muscles trembled, and still he took her.
And she took him.
She had to stop this, before she tookeverythingfrom him.
Digging her foot into the floor, she bucked up with her hips and twisted, using the strength she’d siphoned. Rolling, she gained the top once again, barely breaking their rhythm as the sensations igniting in her core and flaring in her limbs burst into an inferno.
She groaned as her very soul caught fire and the searing bliss singed its way along her nerves like she’d never before experienced, or even imagined.
He shuddered beneath her, his hips arching, his hands grasping and finding nothing. His roar that of a beast facing immolation and giving into it. One last time, he shoved deep and held there.
She could feel the heat of his seed deep against her womb. The burn of his power deep within her soul.
And right as they culminated into a rush so intense it could have lit the night ablaze, a fire burst to life in the fireplace. The first to have warmed her since she’d arrived at the abbey.
* * *
Niall shudderedwith a pleasure so deep, it seemed to brand itself into his bones, leaving the runic markings of magick and fate in their wake. But that pleasure replaced power and vigor that he could feel ebbing away the longer he stayed locked within the velvet sweetness of the witche’s body.
Lifting arms that felt as though they were bound to the floor by invisible cords, he reached to push at the succubus riding him, but couldn’t summon the strength. His mind screamed that he was in danger, but his body demanded he stay right where he was. That the sheath of her body now was his home.
