Page 29 of A Bride for the Wicked Highlander (Daring a Highland Laird #2)

As he kissed her, his hand curved around her throat.

Light pressure made her heart pound and her breaths quicken, not out of fear but with the strange pleasure that tightened in her stomach.

He wasn’t a danger to her, he wasn’t going to hurt her; she knew that keenly, despite the fact he had his hand on her throat.

It was the most peculiar thing, understanding the language of his touch, not needing any words.

“Aye, that’s a good lass,” he purred, releasing that light pressure.

He let his hand slide down her throat, his fingertips drawing a tingling line across her chest. All the while, his mouth grazed hers in a fevered dance, as she pulled against her ropes, desperate to touch him in return.

She gasped as he suddenly seized hold of the neckline of her nightshirt... and tore. The buttons exploded this way and that, as he rent the flimsy fabric all the way to the hem. A curious draft came to explore, whispering across her bare skin as he eased the torn sides of the nightshirt apart.

A pleasant shiver rippled through her, unashamed of her naked body. She never had understood what there was to be so shy about. Then again, this was the first time that a man had ever seen her in such a state of undress.

Oscar stepped back for a moment, tilting his head to one side as his eyes roved over smooth skin, pert breasts, flat stomach, and down to lean thighs and what existed between them.

Hunger burned brightly in his appreciative gaze, the graze of his teeth across his lip igniting her bundle of nerves, pulsing in anticipation.

“Every bit of ye, mine,” he said in a husky voice, as he came back to her, wasting no time.

He kissed her fiercely, his rough hands exploring the contours of her body, grasping at the soft flesh of her buttocks, sliding up the sides of her waist, cupping the swell of her breasts, tracing the lines of her stomach and the dip of her hips.

Slowly, he began to kiss his way down her throat, while his hand glided all the way to her thigh, gripping her flesh. She gasped, tugging against her restraints, arching her back off the wall just to be that little bit closer to him.

But she couldn’t follow his command anymore, as, in one fell swoop, he had her entire being whipped into a frenzy. His mouth closed over the peak of her nipple at the exact moment that his fingertips parted her, striking that first spark against the tinderbox of her pleasure.

“Oh!” She cried out. “Yes, Oscar! Yes!”

He sucked harder, his fingertips strumming her, as his other hand smoothed up the side of her neck, until his thumb brushed her lips. As he’d vowed he would, he put something in her mouth, pushing his thumb between her lips.

She didn’t hesitate, moving her mouth in a way he seemed to like, as she heard him growl against the soft flesh of her breast. Whether as a reward, or as a punishment that was no punishment at all, he slid his fingertips through the hot, wet folds of her, and eased them inside.

Maddie bucked as pleasure ambushed her from all sides, her body entirely in his control.

The brush of his thumb against her bud, the pulse and breadth of his fingers inside her, the suck of his mouth against her nipple: it was a thousand barrels of whiskey poured onto the bonfire of her ecstasy, transforming a blaze into an inferno.

Before long, that fervent fire began to edge closer to the powder keg of her utmost bliss. With each moment, lost in his talent, Maddie felt the rise of her conclusion, her breaths now gasps, her words now moans, the only speech she could remember now, “Oscar... Yes, please!”

As if he, too, could hear everything that her body was saying and feeling, his mouth sought hers at the exact moment that she exploded with euphoria.

He kissed her fiercely as the wildfire tore through her, making her lungs burn and her limbs tremble, the heat of it searing through every part of her in the most delicious scorch.

And when the glory of it began to ebb, his kisses softened, the brush of his thumb slowing, his fingers easing out of her, like stepping into welcome shade on a blistering summer’s day.

But just when she thought they were done, that he’d untie her and maybe let her touch him, his kiss began a teasing descent. A kiss that blew breath onto the embers of her pleasure, making them glow afresh.

He kissed every part of her skin, tasting her with his tongue, sinking slowly to his knees.

She moaned, allowing the ropes to take some of her breathless weight, as his kisses moved lower, mapping a path over the ridge of her hip and down her thigh.

“Oh...” she panted as his arm slid underneath her thigh, lifting her leg onto the broad ledge of his shoulder.

At first, she didn’t know what he intended to do. But, sometimes, when it came to discoveries, unexpected surprises could be the most satisfying of all.

Her knee almost buckled as his tongue rolled across her secret bud for the first time, the sensation splintering through her like lightning. Her back arched away from the cold wall, like her body needed the heat of his tongue, her hips tilting toward the slow stroke of it.

There was nothing like this written in any book that she had ever read, nor had Grace mentioned anything of the sort. It was a travesty, in Maddie’s opinion.

Why is no one screaming this from the rooftops? Why does no one tell women anything?

As his tongue circled her sensitive bud, his fingertips rested against the entrance to her sex once more, teasing her. She tried to move herself in such a way that she could draw his fingers inside her, but he was one step ahead, denying her that feeling while his tongue curled and sucked.

She all but screamed his name, thrashing and writhing against her restraints, needing more.

Just when she thought he really would deprive her, he sank his fingers into the depths of her, curving them to touch on that even more secret spot within her.

In perfect harmony, his fingertips pulsed and his tongue caressed.

And her body, now adapted to his touch, soared again toward that all-consuming pleasure.

It could have been minutes or hours, for time no longer existed in that tower room. All she knew was her husband and his talents, pouring his effort into the conjuration of her bliss. All she knew was the ticking clock of her fevered breaths, out of time with the thunderous beat of her heart.

Suddenly, that bonfire of pleasure erupted, hurtling through her as if it meant to burn her to ash so a new woman could rise. It was every thrill she’d ever felt, blazing as one. It was beyond nature, beyond the laws of it, allowing her to see paradise, to feel it in every part of her.

“Oh, love!” she cried out, unaware of what she’d said, too swept up in the moment.

She let herself burn, savoring every moment until the roaring inferno became pulsing embers once more.

She knew, panting and satisfied, that she would never be the same again.

She was a phoenix, that most mythical and rare of birds, spreading her fiery wings because of the man between her thighs. The man she called “husband.”

Indeed, in that moment, she was grateful for every resounding “no” she’d received in her life, just so she could have the singular pleasure of this “yes.”