Page 22 of The Beast of the Highlands
Autumn’s legs began to tremble as the feverish heat sank deeper, lighting up every muscle, every vein, every part of her until she felt she might combust. Between her thighs, so close to where his head rested, her secret bud throbbed with desire for him.
Gulping, she shook her head. “I cannot grant you that, Flynn, for I know I would not be able to stop at one more kiss. I would long for one more, and one more, and one more, and one more.” His lips grazed her stomach more insistently, eliciting explosions of ecstasy deep within her abdomen. “And I will not be anyone’s mistress.”
“I’ll show restraint if ye falter,” he growled into her hip, his mouth pressing against the hollow to the side of it. “And I willnae ask ye to be me mistress. I wouldnae.”
Moment by moment, Autumn felt her resolve drain out of her, replaced with the fiery rush of absolute longing. With every press of his lips against her, the barrier of fabric between them seemed to grow thinner. And as his hands slipped under the hem of her nightgown, his palms caressing her calves, as they had done on their first dawn together, she felt herself transported back to Flynn’s underground library.
Our realm of possibility.
“Kiss me,” she rasped. “One last time. One last kiss.”
She knew she might be lighting a dangerous fuse, igniting a canister that could destroy them both, but she had to feel his lips on her again. It was not a want; it was a need that she could not ignore. All her life, she had been a dutiful daughter: studious, polite, well-read, witty, elegant in a ballroom, and determined to do everything in her power to aid her family. But what had she ever done for herself? Nothing.
Before she knew it, Flynn was on his feet, towering over her. In most men, his height would have been intimidating. For Autumn, it made her feel protected.
“One more.” He cradled her face in his hands and dipped his head to kiss her, catching her mouth with his.
This time, there was no tentative hesitation as there had been in the library. She threw herself into the desperation of the moment, their mouths ravenous for one another, lips moving in a searing ebb and flow. And as his tongue slipped into her mouth, sensually exploring, she let her own tongue move with his without fear of doing it wrong.
It was as though some primal, natural instinct had possessed her, driving her to follow her desire however she saw fit.
“Flynn… Oh, Flynn…” she gasped between kisses, as his body pressed her back against the planks of wood between the stalls. He was all around her, enveloping her, making everything else disappear.
His lips moved away from her mouth, following a tantalizing route down her neck and to her bosom, while his fingertips took hold of her nightgown’s skirts. She did not stop him as he lifted them, and placed his hand beneath: his skin almost unbearably hot against the cool flesh of her thigh.
Clinging to him in rapture as his hand moved higher, unhindered by any pesky undergarments, he found her swollen bud. And as his fingertips added some pressure, and began to move in slow circles, she had to clamp her hand over her mouth to stop her from crying out into the otherwise silent night.
“Ye’re tremblin’, lass,” he breathed against her throat.
Through the gaps in her fingers, she panted. “I feel… I feel transcendent.”
“That’s because ye are.”
Drawing his hand away, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her under a low lintel, into the old farrier’s workshop. A diagonal ladder led up to the hayloft above, though Autumn had no idea how he knew where to go. Nor how they would get up there without falling.
But she need not have worried. He could have carried her with one arm, and she would have been perfectly safe, which was more or less what he did as he wielded her up to the hayloft and lay her down upon the fresh bales that scattered the platform.
I cannot give myself to him, no matter the temptation. I must not.
As the hay bale molded to her back, he lay down beside her. Her breath caught in her throat as his hand slid once more beneath the skirts of her nightgown, and his fingertips found that delicious spot. Pulsations of exquisite pleasure ricocheted through her with every circle he made, until a sort of delirium claimed her, making her buck and writhe like a wildling beneath his expert touch.
Meanwhile, he unclasped the cloak that shrouded her, letting it fall open like a makeshift blanket. With more of her feverish skin exposed, he made sure to pay attention to every visible speck with his thorough lips and his warm, enticing tongue. Indeed, she was almost certain she was losing her mind as he pulled down the edge of her collar and took a pert nipple in his mouth, sucking gently.
“Flynn! Oh… Oh…” She had to grasp his face and kiss him hard to silence the cry that threatened to burst forth, as the scorching threads of pleasure twisted together within her, creating a maelstrom of untold bliss.
He smiled into their kiss. “I’ve longed to hear ye call me name like that. If we were in me library, ye could make all the noise ye wanted.”
“I wish we were there!” she gasped. “Goodness, I wish we were.”
Slowly, he kissed back down to her breasts, massaging one as he sucked the nipple of the other, before venturing further down. He kissed across her stomach, as he had done before, and paused to bring her skirts to her hips.
Autumn was only vaguely aware of his position, delirious with pleasure as she was, but she was surprised to find she felt no shame at having her most secret treasure exposed to his shining gaze. And that surprise jumped into the most remarkable shock as his head disappeared beneath her skirts, and she felt the first lash of his tongue against her swollen bud.
“Flynn! What are you—oh. Oh… oh my goodness,” she breathed into the sweet air of the hayloft as his tongue replaced his fingertips entirely. Though the latter had other plans.
He licked and lashed as she gripped onto her cloak, worried that such a bombardment of otherworldly pleasure would shatter her into a thousand pieces. Then, her body stilled, as though in some peculiar stasis, as she felt a new pressure against the slick warmth of her entrance.
“Tell me if ye feel any pain, and I’ll stop,” Flynn rasped, his voice throaty with passion.
