Trapped with the Devil of the Highlands (Falling for Highland Villains #3)

Chapter 34

CHAPTER 34

“It’s beautiful,” Paisley gasped, standing on the smooth stone that bordered the corrie loch.

The still waters seamlessly reflected the starry sky above, capturing the steady shift from the dead of night to the early hours of dawn. The same waters that Camden had urged to relieve him of his desire for Paisley, soon to be witness to everything he desired.

He let Nyx wander off to graze and walked up behind Paisley, sliding his arms around her.

“I came here whenever I thought of ye,” he told her, dipping his head to kiss the curve of her shoulder. “That water is as cold as ice, yet it never tempered me longin’ for ye. The moment I met ye, I was doomed to want ye.”

She leaned back into his embrace, her neck arching slightly. “Doomed?”

“Aye, well, ye were a nun then,” he said with a chuckle. “I had nay hope of gettin’ ye to want me.”

“I was a novice,” she reminded him.

He kissed her neck, feeling her melt into his embrace. “Nae anymore.”

“I wouldnae say that.” Her voice wavered. “I dinnae ken what… to do.”

“That’s why ye have me, sweetlin’.”

He slid his hand down the front of her dress while his other hand came up to caress her breasts. A soft breath of anticipation rippled the waters of the corrie loch as his lips grazed the soft skin of her arched neck, and her hips bucked against his.

Gathering her skirts upward, he envied the corrie loch for glimpsing the supple smoothness of her thighs before he did, though there was a thrill in delaying satisfaction.

As his hand slid below the ribbon-tied waist of her drawers, he raked his teeth gently over her earlobe, half smiling at the gasp that slipped past her lips and the instinctive buck of her hips.

This is just the beginnin’, love.

His fingertips sought the pulse of her swollen bud, teasing the promise of her pleasure. She licked her lips as he touched her, slowly circling that sensitive bundle of nerves, listening to the musical language of her bliss so he would know what she liked, what stirred her, what would make her rush faster toward her conclusion.

“Oh…” she moaned, resting all of her weight against his chest. “Oh… aye, Camden…”

His manhood strained and throbbed with need, the friction of her ripe buttocks driving him to the brink of the most delicious madness. But he ignored it, tending to the majesty of her pleasure first before he took his own.

He strummed and circled to the rhythm of her panting breaths, imagining he could feel every spark of ecstasy within her, making her skin flush and her body tremble. And when he sensed her soaring toward her climax, hearing the note of her pleasure change in her ragged breaths and stifled moans, he let his fingertips glide through the wet heat of her.

“Camden… Camden, please,” she begged, clearly missing his skillful touch. “Camden, touch me. Touch?—”

She cried out as he eased his fingers into her silken well, letting his thumb replace the stoking strum of his fingertips. Her hands reached back, grabbing his shirt, his kilt, anything she could grasp to anchor herself in her pleasure. When her hand brushed against the aching length of him, he nearly lost control, nearly lifted the rest of her skirts and plunged himself into her. But she was so close now; he would not rush what he had been waiting so long to have.

“Oh! Oh God… Oh, Camden!” Paisley cried as that roaring, cresting bliss pummeled through her, conjured by Camden’s expert touch.

He held her against him as her ecstasy thrummed and thrashed in her veins, her muscles seizing with the intensity, her entire body handed over to the forces of pure pleasure. Yet, it was not the same as it had been before—it was better. This time, there was a thrill beneath the lightning wave that promised more, and she was no longer nervous to find out what that was.

As her bliss subsided, Camden withdrew his fingers, but he did not let her skirts fall back down to the ground. Instead, he lifted them over her head and laid the woolen fabric out on the cold stone. Her drawers and her stays followed them down, his deft fingertips making quick work of both until she stood naked on the edge of that mirror-like lake, half-tempted to peer over and look at herself.

“Turn around,” he instructed.

She did as he asked, her hands instinctively moving to cover herself.

“Nay,” he said softly. “Dinnae do that. If ye need to keep ‘em busy, ye can start with me kilt.”

With a shy smile, she reached for the leather belt that held his kilt in place. Her hands shook as they unfastened the buckle and dropped the belt to the ground, gathering confidence as she unwrapped the kilt from around his waist.

The léine beneath was long, the hem stopping at the middle of his thigh.

She peered up into his shining black eyes, uncertain how to proceed. He smiled, taking hold of his léine and pulling it slowly upward, revealing hard muscle, barely scarred despite the battles she knew he had faced. After the events in the convent, she knew why—he was as skilled a warrior as he was a lover.

Her breath caught as she admired the ridges and contours of his abdomen and the sculpted lines of his broad chest, the movement of his léine drawing her eyes up.

The fabric ruffled his hair as he finally removed the léine and tossed it to the ground, now standing before her as naked as she was.

Goodness…

He must have noticed the widening of her eyes. Before she had time to overthink the situation or allow the intimidating sight of his manhood to dissuade her, he closed the small gap between them and pulled her into a fierce embrace, his mouth seeking hers, kissing her with a yearning hunger.

All of her doubts were scorched away by the burning graze of his lips, as she kissed him back in kind, running her hands over the smooth warmth of his back. She dared to let them wander over the firm muscle of his backside, the sharp lines that cut diagonally down from his hips, the peaks and valleys of his ridged abdomen, the satisfying solidity of his thighs and chest.

His arm snaked around her waist, holding her to him as he carefully lowered her to the ground and laid her down on the makeshift blankets.

“If I hurt ye,” he murmured, “tell me to stop.”

She nodded, though she had no intention of stopping whatever was to come.

He kissed her again, hungrier than before. And as she kissed him back with equal desperation, their tongues dancing together, she could not help but want to lift her hips. Letting her instinct guide her, she tilted them slightly… and gasped as the glide of his manhood through the sodden heat of her ignited a thousand sparks at once, in a glorious cascade.

“Are ye so impatient?” he purred, deliberately easing himself through her folds, sliding his manhood against her swollen bud until it throbbed with the need to reach her climax once more.

“Aye, love,” she moaned. “I need ye.”

“I willnae make ye beg this time,” he growled, rolling back his hips.

The moment the thickness of him paused at her entrance, she lost all control, utterly surrendering herself to him and the pleasure he elicited. She tried to tilt her hips up to take him inside her, but he matched the movement, teasing her with unbearable anticipation.

Just when she thought she could not bear it anymore, he pushed forward, easing himself inside her.

Her breath lodged in her throat, her fingernails digging into the defined muscles of his back—the first thing she had ever noticed about him. There was no pain, not in the usual sense, just a dull sting that did nothing to temper her desire for more.

“Does that hurt?” he asked huskily.

She shook her head. “Nay. Keep goin’. Please, keep goin’.”

He slowly sank into her, inch by glorious inch, until he was buried to the hilt. He stilled for a moment, his breaths harsh as he dipped his head and kissed her, allowing her time to adjust to the sensation.

Her lips savored his, not just adjusting but relishing the feeling of being completely filled by his hard flesh, joining them in a way that could not be anything but heavenly.

A moment later, he slowly pulled back, to the point where she feared he was about to withdraw altogether, changing his mind. But she did not need to worry, her cry of bliss echoing across the corrie loch as he sank into the eager depths of her once more.

He rocked his hips in a slow, sensual rhythm, each glide of his manhood slicking a balm on the slight sting until there was no discomfort left. It was as if a part of her was awakening, and that sting had been the last vestige of her former self—the Paisley who knew nothing about pleasure.

She closed her eyes, a moan rumbling in the back of her throat.

“Open yer eyes,” Camden growled. “I want ye to look at me.”

She did as he asked, gazing deeply into his eyes as he moved inside her and she moved with him. It was common enough knowledge that the eyes were the window to the soul, but she had not realized that they were also the gateway to new realms of bliss, unlocking a new intensity.

They moved as one on the smooth outcrop, watched by no one but the sky and the fading stars, exploring and enjoying one another while Paisley discovered what she liked the most.

She lifted her hips to meet Camden’s every thrust, relishing the way he felt when he was deep inside her. She could not get enough of the look in his eyes or the ravenous way he kissed her or the titillating music of his gasps and moans, joining her own in the most exquisite symphony.

It seemed logical that all the senses together would make for the most earth-shattering experience, but she had not realized it until then, seeing his rippling muscle and handsome face, feeling him in every way, hearing his pleasure, tasting the salt of his skin, smelling the crisp autumn air and woodsmoke on his warm body.

Just then, propped up on one arm, his fingertips found her bundle of nerves once more.

“Oh… oh God… Aye, me love… me love!”

It tipped her over the edge, throwing her into a pleasure unlike any she had ever experienced. A wave so ferocious, so glorious, so majestic that she truly thought she could see paradise.

She grasped his buttocks, urging him to thrust harder, riding the wave of her ecstasy.

Her cries echoed across the mountains as dawn began to color the sky with streaks of purple and pink, so beautiful and perfect that she could have wept at the gift of it. Even as the intensity of her climax ebbed, his measured strokes sparked new embers of pleasure, keeping her moaning his name as he plunged into her.

He quickened his pace, thrusting into her with wondrous abandon, until he suddenly stilled and dipped his head to kiss her, gasping his euphoria against her mouth.

She caught every breath of it, kissing him fiercely as she felt his manhood pulse inside her. He thrust twice more, slower than before, and smiled against her mouth as he collapsed on top of her.

“Perfection,” he murmured close to her ear, sliding his arms beneath her. “Complete perfection.”

She blushed at the compliment, yelping as he rolled onto his back, bringing her with him.

“I didnae ken that I could feel like that,” she whispered excitedly, propping herself up on her elbows as she lay on top of him. “That was… better than any book.”

He smiled up at her, brushing locks of curly hair from her face. “And just think, ye might’ve missed out on it. Ye might never have kenned.”

“I dinnae want to think about it,” she replied, shuddering.

“Have I told ye that I love ye?”

The words were so unexpected, so casual, that Paisley needed a moment to make sure she had heard him correctly. “Nay, ye havenae. I dinnae think ye have, anyway.”

“Well, love, I’ve felt it. I’ve felt it, and I didnae ken how to say it, but… I love ye. I love ye deeply.” He raised his head and kissed her lips. “After we leave this place and return to Castle Cairn, I want to marry ye as soon as possible.”

She blinked down at him. “Ye want to… marry me?”

“If ye’ll have me.”

Her face split into the widest smile ever. “Nothin’ would make me happier, love.” She traced the outline of his lips, her heart soaring. “And, just so ye ken, I love ye too. I love ye, Camden, and I’m sorry I nearly threw it away.”

She really could not bear to think of where they might be if the fire had not brought them back together.

“Och, there’d have been nay chance of that,” he told her confidently. “I’d have stolen ye from that convent one way or another to keep ye close. But be warned—when I love someone, I love them forever and with all me heart, so be sure ye want this before ye agree.”

She laughed softly. “How do ye ken if ye’ve never been in love before?”

“Because when I look at ye, that’s what I want to do,” he replied. “Love ye forever and with all me heart.”

“Well then,” she replied, so happy she thought her heart might burst, “it looks like yer maither will need to start preparin’ a weddin’ feast, after all.”