Page 63 of The Highlander Is All That

He gently nudged at the bundle of nerves hidden in her folds and glory exploded. It danced on her skin and barreled through her veins in a heated rush. She devolved into a mindless lump, capable only of moaning and groaning and clutching at his hair as he feasted.

She never wanted it to end.

Never.

And then, the sensations changed. They went from waves of delight and pleasure to something more needy, greedy, and raw.

It was a sublime agony and her yesses turned to pleas.

Tension coiled within her and tightened. She thrashed and cried out and struggled for . . . she knew not what.

But her body knew.

Her body knew what it wanted.

When he added his fingers to the symphony he was playing on her, plucking at her aching nipples while rubbing her in places she’d never knew could be so tender, she nearly lost consciousness.

She was very glad she did not because soon she reached a glorious crest. Her body shook. Her heart palpitated. Her breath locked as rapture took her.

At least, she thought it was rapture.

Until he continued.

He eased a finger inside her and after a small pinch of pain, he took up a dizzying rhythm. She climbed even higher. The tension rose again. Lifting her, closing in on her, consuming her.

Wherever he touched her, heaven rained down . . . and he seemed to touch her everywhere.

After an eternity of bliss, he slowed, then stopped, then peeped up at her from his spot on the floor.

She frowned. “Is that it?”

Outrage and humor warred on his expression. “No’ quite.”

“Oh, thank God. I don’t want this to be over.”

“I assure you,” he said, coming to his feet. “There is more.”

And God, was there.

His blanket had fallen away and he stood before her utterly naked.

The sight stole her wits.

He was glorious. Beautiful. Perfect.

And rampant.

She’d never quite appreciated that word before now.

His cock stood high, hard and insistent against his belly.

She couldn’t help herself. She reached forward and took him in her fist. “Ah,” they both said in tandem.

“It’s so hard.”

He laughed, though it was a pained offering. “Aye.”

“And so soft. Like velvet.”