The Highlander’s Tempting Touch

Chapter 36

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

T he world seemed enveloped in warmth and softness and light, desire dancing inside her like a flickering candle-glow, and all Niamh could do was surrender to it as Alistair carried her into the bedroom, laid her on the bed, and reverently began to undress her.

She hadn’t intended to suggest they have a child, hadn’t even known the desire was inside her until the words had been spoken. And yet, as Alistair undid the laces of her dress and slid the fabric off her, she felt no fear. Only desire, and warmth, along with a tiny, seedling-like sprout of hope that her mother’s fate did not have to be her own, and neither did the life of a lonely virginal wife.

The whispers of her father’s love, and the promises of the castle women surrounded her, driving away her fears and uncertainties, so that she could look at her husband with clear eyes.

Alistair was kind, handsome, good with children and courteous even in the face of the worst of her temper. His smile held warmth, and his hands held gentleness, for all he was a stern laird and a warrior born.

She had never felt any sort of desire for any man before Alistair. And yet now, she could think of nothing else she wanted, save to have him in her arms, to truly consummate their marriage and become husband and wife in every sense of the word.

Alistair’s hands slid her dress and her chemise from her body, leaving her naked before him, but she was long past being nervous about that. Instead, she lay back, watching with appreciation and growing desire as Alistair removed his own clothing and cast it aside in graceful, unhurried movements.

She’d seen him naked before, but even so, she enjoyed watching him, the way the firelight played over the broad shoulders, the lean waist, and the muscled lines of his limbs. He was already stirring with desire as well, his manhood stiffening in arousal to match the heat and dampness between her legs. He stared at her for a long moment once he was done removing his clothing, then strode to the bed and sat on it, his eyes dark with need and wanting.

She wasn’t sure what she expected, but it wasn’t for him to lean forward and kiss her, long and slow and deep, as if it was their first kiss, or their last. There was passion in the press of his lips, the heat of his mouth and the way his tongue danced with hers, but it was tempered with a gentleness she hadn’t anticipated.

Then he moved and pressed a kiss to her brow. Then her cheek. Then the point of her jaw, before he nipped at her ear. The sensation sent sparks to her core, and Niamh shifted restlessly at the warm pulse of desire that washed over her. “Alistair…”

“Hush.” His voice was a low rumble that vibrated through her as he tilted his head to press a kiss to the pulse point in her throat, then to the join of neck and shoulder. He tipped his head then, so she could see the heat in his eyes. “I never thought ye’d want me, nor intended tae ask fer more than ye were willing tae give. But if ye’ve truly changed yer mind, I’ll nae be rushing the matter. I’ll tak’ me time and pleasure ye enough that ye’ll never regret this choice.”

Niamh swallowed stunned by the words, then silenced by another pulse of warmth as he kissed the hollow of her throat, then captured her right breast in his mouth and suckled gently. He teased her nipple with lips and teeth and tongue, nipping and sucking and caressing until she thought that it would drive her mad. His free hand cupped the mound of her other breast, offering gentle caresses that heightened the sensations. By the time he switched his full attention to her left breast and placed his hand on her right, she was squirming, gasping as waves of pleasure surged from her bosom to her core. “Alistair…”

He shifted again, burying his face between her breasts as his hands caressed her arms, from shoulders to fingers. He stroked them slowly over every inch of her bared skin, as if trying to memorize the feel of her. The tenderness and intimacy of the gesture was breathtaking enough, but her already sensitive body felt alive and humming with sparks, and every brush of his warm, callused hands made the sensation shiver through her.

“Lift yer arms fer me.” He gently guided her hands above her head. “There.”

His hands went to her sides, caressing, mapping, finding every spot that made her gasp, or shiver, or squirm. His mouth traced slow lingering kisses down the center of her body, from between her breasts, across her belly, and to her navel. At her navel, he paused, his tongue plunging as deep into the small hollow as it was possible for it to go. Niamh gasped and arched into it, feeling as if he was caressing her core with his tongue. The sparks turned to darts of lightning, going straight from his tongue to her groin, making her long for his touch. Her legs parted, welcoming him.

Instead, Alistair raised his head and his hands and scooted downward to caress her feet with the same loving attention he’d given the rest of her. Niamh gasped, caught by surprise at how dismayed she felt, how much she wanted him to touch her there . “Alistair…”

He ignored her pleading and slid his hands slowly across her feet, kneading the bottoms of them and finding spots she’d never imagined could give her so much sensation, let alone pleasure. Then he caressed her shins, her calves, and her knees, his hands moving upward with such excruciating slowness that it was all she could do not to beg.

He was making love to her entire body, and she’d never imagined such a thing. The pleasure of it, and the humbling feeling of being almost worshiped by such a powerful man was nearly overwhelming. Catriona had told her a proper lover would be attentive to her needs and desires as well as his own, but this was more than she’d expected, and she was sure she was going to go mad from the sheer intensity of the experience before he claimed her.

His hands slid to her thighs, stroking the soft, sensitive skin and making her shiver as he slid between her knees and gently opened her most sensitive and secret place to him. She quivered as he caressed her, his hands carefully and deliberately avoiding her sex and the damp curls that adorned it as he slid them over thighs, the crease of her hips, and around to lift and massage her buttocks.

“Alistair…” She raised her hips in his grasp, pleading, needing. “Please… I want…”

“Aye?”

“I want ye tae touch me.”

“I am.”

Niamh flushed, surprised that he could tease her, when she could see the straining erection of his own arousal. “Please… claim me.”

“I am. Every… single… inch… o’ ye.” He bent his head, but instead of using his tongue as she anticipated, he blew gently on the wet, heated flesh. The air burst from Niamh’s lungs in a strangled gasp as she shuddered and arched in his grasp. The cold on the heated skin sent a wave of pleasure and sensation crashing through her like a wave.

Before she could react, or even let the pleasure diminish enough to think of reacting, Alistair bent his head further and slid his tongue over the lips of her sex, from her buttocks to the top of the seam. He licked her once, then again, lapping up her arousal with firm strokes that made her shudder and squirm around his mouth.

His hands shifted, palm stroking across her mound, providing a different kind of pressure, before his thumbs gently teased open her entrance and his tongue slid inside her. Niamh shuddered and moaned with pleasure, almost mindless with the sensation of his tongue caressing her inner walls, plunging deep to tease her core, while his hands cupped and stroked along the outer edges of her sex.

She was drowning and burning all at once, caught up in a relentless storm of heat, heightening desire and need, as well as waves of sensation. She wanted more, needed more. She could feel her release coming, the maelstrom of heat and pleasure winding higher and tighter, growing stronger.

Alistair’s tongue slid across her pleasure center, then laved it with a strong, sure stroke, and the wave rose higher, threatening to sweep her away.

At that point Alistair pulled back, and Niamh heard herself gasping in frustration, in need and desire so deep it left her almost mindless. “Alistair… what…”

“What, Niamh?”

“Please… I want ye. I want yer touch. I want ye inside me.” She could hardly understand the words she was speaking, her body alive with wanting and aching for him. “Please…”

Alistair slid up her body, covering her, and Niamh felt the hard, heavy length of his shaft as it pressed against her thigh, then moved to press against her entrance, slick with her arousal. She drew her thighs apart wider, welcoming him. “I want ye.”

The head of his shaft slipped past the outer lips of sex, hot and rigid and larger than his fingers or his tongue had been. The stretching sensation burned, but it was a pleasurable sort of burn that made her arch to try and take him deeper.

Alistair shifted with her, a deep laugh rumbling from his mouth and through her like thunder in the midst of a storm. “So impatient. But I told ye, I’m nae plannin’ tae rush this.”

Niamh shivered, her whole body aching and restless as Alistair slid into her with painstaking, maddening slowness. Every shift sent another wave of pleasure and heat through her, but it was never quite enough. Not enough for her release, and it was maddening.

The heat of him, the pressure of being slowly filled, her innermost core penetrated by his manhood, all of it was almost overwhelming, and yet Alistair held her on the cusp of release, never taking her far enough to fall over the edge.

She felt it when his shaft touched a barrier inside her and her breath caught, knowing what it was, and what it meant. For a moment, old fears tried to resurface, even amid the warmth and the need that engulfed her. Then Alistair’s mouth claimed hers in a kiss, and his hand went to her breast, teasing the taut nipple and sending sparks through her.

His hips shifted, and she felt the sharp sting as her maidenhead was breached, her body arching in response. Then the pain was muted, overwhelmed by the sensation of him sliding further into her, filling her, claiming her, pressing deeper until he was fully inside her, their hips pressed together.

For a moment, they both lay still, as her body adjusted to the sensation of being filled and stretched. Then Niamh shifted, restless and needing. “Alistair…”

He withdrew, then thrust again and again, setting up a slow, steady pace that was as maddening as it was relentless. Niamh let go, let herself get lost in the spiraling waves of pleasure and heat, the feel of his body within hers, his shaft sliding along her channel, the heat of him pressed against her.

The waves climbed higher, winding tighter and carrying her further than she’d ever imagined possible. She felt as though she was going to turn to ash or lose her wits entirely, as if she was in danger of coming undone at the seams. Her breath came raggedly, mirroring his, her body rocking in time with Alistair’s thrusts as he claimed her for his own.

It was pleasure beyond bearing, need beyond thought, heat like high summer, and she could barely separate the sensations any more.

Alistair shifted his position, withdrew nearly all the way from her. The next thrust stroked across her pleasure center as it slid inside her, and Niamh arched with a cry of ecstasy as the world shattered around her, filling her vision with a haze of light as the wave of her release swept her away. Her hips thrust upward, her channel and the muscles of her feminine core clenched around Alistair as her body shuddered in pleasure and release.

Alistair’s movement faltered, his rhythm broken as his hips stiffened and pressed against hers. She felt his release claim him, his seed pumping into her as he pressed tight against her, and the sensation sent another wave of pleasure and heat through her.

The second wave of her release, and the aftershock that followed it, rocking through her body like waves on a shore, proved to be too much for her, and Niamh’s last coherent thoughts disappeared as her climax caught her and whirled her away into a maelstrom of sensation, warmth and light, then dropped her, gently and seamlessly, into a darkness tinged only by the most pleasant of dreams.