Page 18 of Married to the Cruel Highlander (Unwanted Highland Wives #5)

18

O ne second she was trying to pull her hand from his tight grip as he led her into the woods behind the tents, the next she was slammed against the rough bark of a tree, her breath caught between his mouth and her wild heartbeat. The kiss was frenzied.

“Tell me to stop,” Keith growled against her lips.

She didn’t.

Her heart thundered wildly in her chest.

She couldn’t stop him, because as much as she wanted to believe that she despised this man and that it was all business, a part of her had wanted this. Wanted him .

The hunger in his voice wasn’t just lust either. It was carnal. Something wounded and wild… starved. And it matched the ache burning inside her like a storm.

His hand found her jaw, cradling it roughly, his thumb dragging across her bottom lip before pushing into her mouth.

“Ye are mine , Ersie Barcley. From the moment ye challenged me in that bloody field.”

She bit down on his flesh then, and he hissed before his hand twisted and pressed her head back against the tree behind her. Then, it drifted, slow, steady, down to her throat, his knuckles grazing the pulse that thudded wildly there.

Ersie gasped, her hips arching into him as if they had a mind of their own. And she whimpered as his grip tightened on the base of her neck.

His other hand pressed flat against her stomach, feeling the tautness there. It ripped at the laces, loosening them before sliding up and under the edge of her bodice.

Her breath hitched. Still, he didn’t rush. He kissed her again, slower this time, like he meant to memorize every curve of her mouth.

“If ye want me to stop, say it now,” he rasped, his hand slipping higher, his fingertips grazing the underside of her breast.

“Nay, dinnae stop,” she said, her voice barely audible.

He growled low, satisfied. “That’s a good lass.”

She shivered as his hand skimmed downward, leaving a trail of heat under her bodice. His fingers expertly untied the tight leather trousers she was wearing. As he applied soft pressure against her neck again, her head tilted back, and her lips parted as if on cue.

Ersie’s back arched instinctively when he touched her, and a deep, primal sound escaped his chest in response.

His fingers stroked slowly, teasing, pressing, testing. The forest around them faded into nothing but shadow and heat. Every inch of her trembled.

Her moan was muffled as his lips crashed into hers again. The kiss was deeper, rougher, while his fingers moved with purpose now, circling with gentle expertise.

She clung to his shoulders, her knees buckling slightly from the intensity of the sensation. “Keith,” she moaned.

He pulled back just enough to see her face, his eyes wide and dark with need. “Ye are beautiful like this,” he groaned. “Soft. Wet with need.”

A finger plunged into her then, and her head fell back against the tree. He pumped into her slowly at first and then with more rhythm, more confidence, and her mouth fell open in a silent cry.

“Christ Almighty,” he murmured. “Look at ye.”

She bit her lip, trying to hold herself together, but her body betrayed her.

His finger stopped moving. “Ye will wait.”

Her eyes flew open and locked onto his. The absence of him was noticeable. “I willnae let yer tight, little honeypot ripple around me fingers until I say ye can come.”

She nodded her head.

“Say it. Say ye understand, lass,” he said, pressing a second finger against her entrance. Teasing her.

“Aye,” she gasped. “Please…”

“Say it properly, or I will stop.”

She gritted her teeth, and the heat of her anger flashed across her face.

“Wicked arse,” she hissed.

“Tut tut, little lass,” he said and stepped back from her, leaving her panting for air against the tree.

“Nay!” she pleaded, her voice raised with desperation that she hated hearing.

Keith stood unmoving, watching a flush creep up her face as the anger worked its way up and down her core. She felt her heart hammering against the seams of her trousers, and she squirmed.

“Ach, ye will stand there in yer defiant need. Until I’m satisfied.”

“Please… I’ll do anything,” she said, shivering with anticipation.

“Tell me.”

Her eyes traveled the length of him. His was arousal evident, the impression making her eyes bulge with a sudden, urgent craving. He was exactly what she needed.

Ersie watched as Keith lifted his fingers to his mouth and sucked on each of them, moaning with pleasure as he did. “So delicious, little lass. I could have ye for every meal.”

His gaze darkened.

“Tell me what I need to say,” she begged.

Keith dipped his chin, his tongue tracing the bottom edge of his teeth. “Do. Ye. Understand?”

Her impatience flared again and mixed with her need. It throbbed in her veins and pulsed through each limb. But she knew what she needed to do.

Say it. Just say it.

“I understand…”

“And ye willnae let anyone else touch ye, correct?”

“I willnae, Me Laird.”

“Tell me ye’re mine.”

He walked to her again. She moaned, her legs shaking violently as he curled a finger inside her teasingly. “I-I’m yers, Keith.”

He groaned, his neck twisting and stretching with desire.

“That’s better,” he purred, closing the distance between them, his mouth finding hers once more.

This time, he hooked her legs around his waist, and his fingers thrust into her with delicious, painful urgency.

She whimpered in frustration, but she obeyed. Not because she had no other choice, but because part of her liked surrendering to him. She liked giving up the control she had fought so hard to earn. So hard to hold.

So. Hard.

His fingers moved faster, and her whole body tensed.

“Keith, I-I cannae…” she moaned, bucking her hips so his fingers sank into her deeper.

His jaw went slack as he watched her. She held onto the tree behind her for a grip on reality as her vision blurred.

“Open yer eyes, Ersie.” Keith’s demand zipped down to her core, and she felt her walls throb. “Look at me.”

“I… I need— please ?”

“Next time, when someone asks ye to dance, ye will remember whose name ye moaned just now.”

“Aye, I’ll nae forget. Please.”

“Good lass. Now, come for me,” he said gruffly and held onto her tightly, his fingers thrusting impossibly deep inside her.

Ersie wrapped her arms around his neck as she shattered. Her cry was muffled against his neck as her entire body shook.

Keith held her through it, his face buried in her shoulder, whispering things she couldn’t hear.

When the pleasure ebbed, her breathing slowed, and she went lax in his arms.

And for once, Ersie didn’t feel like a warrior. She felt like a woman . A wanted and absolutely undone woman.

“Ye did well, lass,” Keith murmured against her temple, pressing a kiss there before turning them around.

He lowered himself carefully to the forest floor, his back to the tree, and brought her down with him, settling her on his lap.

Ersie rested there, still breathless, her fingers trailing along the edge of his collar. Her cheek rested against his chest, the thrum of his heart beneath it strong and steady.

“We should get back,” he said softly.

Ersie hummed a response, before they both fell silent, their breaths coming in time to their thundering heartbeats.