Page 28 of Taken by the Devilish Highlander (Taken by Highland Devils #7)

H e raced to the water with Feya following behind.

She laughed as she tried to run and pull off her stockings at the same time.

Archer crashed into the shallow water, spraying water in all directions.

It was cool and welcoming on his warm skin.

Moments later, Feya joined him, bunching her skirts to hold them away from the pond.

He reached down and tossed water in her direction, making her squeal.

Without hesitation, she dropped her skirts and splashed him right back, throwing water onto his chest and quickly soaking his tunic.

They laughed at each other as they splashed back and forth, trying to block the other person’s attack with little success.

On one particularly skilled toss, Feya caught Archer right in the face.

He squeezed his eyes closed as he felt the cool liquid in his hair and falling down his forehead.

When he opened his eyes, he pretended to be angry, letting out a low growl in her direction.

Feya squeaked and turned around, starting to run, but Archer was instantly upon her.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her backward, lifting her feet off the ground.

He swung her around, and soon they were both crashing into the water, completely submerged in the shallow pool. They both cried out, surprised by the shock of cold, but Feya quickly continued their water fight. Even as she kicked her legs to stay afloat, she splashed more water in his direction.

They climbed out of the pond, dripping water onto the dirt.

Archer’s shirt clung to his back and his stomach, and his breeches felt stiff and uncomfortable, hanging low on his hips.

Of course, Feya had even more layers than he did.

The dress she wore was heavy with water, and her long hair was soaked, free from any ties as it hung down her back, more curly than ever.

“Now what?” she asked, looking down to take in the state of her dress. Archer was still thinking of the feel of her in his arms when he pulled her into the water. And he was distracted by the way her neckline pulled low, revealing more of her breasts than usual.

He smirked at her and shrugged, not ready to end their playfulness. And then he reached down to pull his tunic over his head. He saw her staring at the scar-covered expanse of his chest.

“We dry our clothes,” he suggested. He walked to a nearby tree and hung the shirt from an outstretched branch.

Then he made a slow walk back to Feya. She watched his every move, looking eager but cautious, as if she couldn’t decide if he was teasing.

Archer closed the distance and stood in front of her to push her wet hair behind her ear.

“We cannae go back to the castle looking like this,” he reasoned.

Feya turned her face up to him, and Archer dropped his mouth to hers.

At the same time, his hand came to the space between her shoulder blades, the space where he felt the laces of her gown still tied tight.

Feya pushed her mouth back against his, and Archer found the string.

He pulled, feeling the ties give beneath his fingers.

She pulled back to look at him, and he was surprised to see she didn’t look nervous. She only stared at him with trust in her eyes and that deep longing starting to build somewhere deep, lighting his own body on fire.

“What do ye think?” he asked. The front of Feya’s gown loosened, revealing the shift she wore beneath her dress. Archer dropped his eyes to her breasts, seeing the ample curve and press of her nipples against the thin fabric. “Can we lay this out to dry?”

She stepped back, and Archer worried she was stopping things.

But then she reached back to pull at the ties even further.

She dropped her arms to let the dress fall, sliding down her arms, her chest, and over her hips.

With the dress in a pool at her feet, Feya stepped out of it, the wet fabric of her slip hiding very little of her supple, curvy body.

Archer stared at the dark space between her legs and then, as she bent down to lift the dress from the ground, at the curve of her backside.

He was transfixed as she walked the dress to the tree and hung it beside Archer’s tunic, the branch dropping down with the weight of it.

And then she turned back to him, smiling as she returned to his side.

His hands were on her sides immediately.

He gripped her waist as he kissed her, letting his hands roam up so they quickly cupped her breasts.

He felt the hard press of her nipples in his palms, and Feya groaned into his mouth, pushing her chest even further into him.

Archer ran his thumbs over her sensitive nubs, and Feya pushed her hips against his.

He guided her to the blanket, walking her backwards as they continued to kiss.

Feya’s hands were in his hair and across his shoulders.

Heat built between Archer’s legs as he felt the warmth of her body, the gentle rub of her hips as they moved together toward the blanket.

He laid her down, pushing aside the basket, careful to cradle her head as he kneeled over her, very aware of the way her shift slipped up, revealing her upper thighs.

Archer brought his mouth to her neck and down to her collarbone. He pulled at the neckline of her shift until he could see what he had only felt. He circled her nipples with his fingers and then dropped his mouth, pressing his tongue against the breast his hand wasn’t occupied with.

“Archer,” she gasped. She arched her back, pushing her chest into him. He straddled one of her legs, and he felt her warm thigh press up to tease his length. It was his turn to groan, and he pushed his hips down to show her exactly what effect she was having on his body.

“Please,” Feya said, and he knew what she was asking for.

It made him smile, and he nipped at the sensitive skin of her shoulder as his hand ran down her body.

He followed the curve of her ribs and her stomach, the shape of her hips, and then his fingers found the hem of her shift and the warm space between her thighs.

Her legs opened to him, and he ran his fingers up, still rocking his arousal against her hip.

He kept his mouth on her breast as he slipped his fingers up, pressing into her eagerness.

She was more than ready for him, wet with longing, and as soon as he swept his fingers up, her hips bucked, stimulated by the slightest touch.

He chuckled against her chest and then pulled his lips away from her nipple to glance up at her.

“Are ye alright?” he teased.

She could only nod, her eyes half closed as Archer’s fingers moved up and down, an expert touch. He slid down her body then and settled himself between her legs. With two hands, he pushed her shift up to her stomach and began running kisses along her thighs.

“Archer,” she begged. He gave her a mischievous look, but he couldn’t deny her further. He shifted to the eager space between her legs and pressed his tongue between her waiting lips.

She gripped the blanket with her hands, rocking beneath the movement of Archer’s tongue.

Pressure built deep in her stomach, and she squeezed her eyes closed to focus on it.

She wanted to re-live the feeling he had given her in his bed, that explosion of pleasure unlike anything she had felt before.

Now she was lying in the woods, completely exposed, but instead of fear, she only felt excitement.

She ventured a look down her body, and her breath caught as she saw Archer staring at her.

He watched her mouth drop open as he licked and teased, testing out the right touch that would bring her over the edge.

He was far too handsome staring up at her, his hair still wet from the water, a hunger in his eyes that made Feya feel like he was claiming her.

She pictured the firm, strong feeling of his erection pressing against her leg, making her feel powerful.

It felt good to know she could bring him to this, that she could make his body respond in the same way he was doing now.

The muscles in Feya’s thighs tightened, and Archer pushed hard with his tongue.

She cried out, waves of sensation making her hips buck, entirely out of her control.

He kept himself locked on her, his tongue still moving in languid strokes, and she felt a hand on her backside, holding her against him as she rode out this pleasure.

Eventually, the sensation was too much, and she pushed him aside, where Archer rested his cheek on her inner thigh as his breath came quickly, teasing her all over again.

Feya gasped, her breath audible in the stillness of the woods.

A sensation of calm and euphoria spread to her toes and fingers, and she relaxed into the hard press of the earth beneath her, delighting in the moment.

Archer slid up her body to lie beside her, running his hand up and beneath her slip as he did so.

She shivered as the rough callouses of his palm slipped over her stomach and then up to cup her breast. He turned Feya into him, pulling her body against his as her backside pressed against his hips.

She felt him hard and eager beneath her, and it ignited the fire in her stomach all over again.

The thin slip she wore was hiding nothing at this point, but Archer still wore his breeches, a barrier Feya suddenly couldn’t stand.

As his fingers pinched gently, pulling her nipple to attention, she pushed herself into him, rocking against his length.

“Lass,” he groaned. He spoke into her hair, into the curve of her neck. “Daenae tease me.”

“These breeches,” she said, though she had no idea where she found the courage. “How will they dry if ye are still wearing them?”

His body froze at her words, and she had to smile at his hesitation.

Feya flipped over so she was facing him.

Her fingers twitched to feel him, to understand the size of him, to know just what effect this afternoon was having on him.

She kissed him to distract herself, and then she ran her hand down his bare chest, over the waistband of his breeches, and to the space between his legs.

He groaned, pushing his mouth and his hips against her. She was shocked by how hard he was, by the size of him that wouldn’t fit in her hand. And then, as she let him rub against her palm, she felt him grow even further, responding to her touch.

“We cannae, lass,” he said. He pressed his forehead against hers, prepared to stop this, but Feya didn’t want that. She felt the impending departure, the time when she wouldn’t see him anymore. Archer had brought her pleasure she hadn’t thought possible. And she wanted to do the same for him.

She ran her fingers up to the hard muscles of his stomach, teasing along his waistband. The ties of his breeches were tantalizingly close, practically begging her to release him.

“Let me help ye,” she said. They both looked down between them, to the bulge between Archer’s legs and Feya’s fingers lifting the laces. “Tell me what to do. Tell me how to bring ye pleasure.”

She pulled at his ties, and Archer didn’t stop her.

The pressure against the fabric loosened him further, and suddenly his length was exposed, at once impressive and intimidating.

Archer sighed as he rolled to his back, relieved to be exposed like this, and even more relieved when Feya’s fingers ventured closer.

Her heart beat hard in her chest as she touched him, and even the gentlest of touches made his member jump in response.

“Feya,” he groaned. His hands balled into fists, and she could see him holding himself back, forcing himself to lie still.

She didn’t know this part of things, that men and women could pleasure each other without the final act.

Her experience with sex was limited to animals in the fields, to unintended glimpses of a couple in the alley late at night, overcome with desire.

But she had witnessed Archer pleasure her, and now, with a bit of uncertainty, she flipped to her knees and brought her mouth close to his arousal.

“Tell me,” she said, trying to bring authority to her voice. She dropped her mouth to his thigh and kissed him, overwhelmed by the musky scent of him, by the feeling of his eagerness so close to her.

“Aye,” he groaned. And suddenly Archer’s hand was in her hair. He guided her gently, letting her kiss his thighs, his stomach, until finally there was nowhere else to kiss.

“Your mouth,” he said, staring down at her. “I want to feel your mouth.”

He pulled her up to position her at the top of his length, stretched halfway up his abdomen. Feya gave him a tentative kiss, and Archer let out a hiss of air, overwhelmed by the gentle sensation. Then, instinctively understanding what he needed, she opened her mouth and pushed her lips over him.