Page 37 of The Icy Highlander’s Virgin (Highlanders’ Feisty Brides #4)
He kissed his way lower, tongue tasting the soft skin of her belly, her inner thighs, until she was writhing, begging without words. When his mouth finally settled between her legs, she gasped—then cried out, her hands flying to his hair.
He groaned into her, tongue working her with practiced, relentless strokes. He alternated between slow circles and fast flicks, reading every sigh, every moan, adjusting until she was panting his name like a chant. Her thighs clenched around him, body jerking as wave after wave built inside her.
“Lachlan—oh, Lachlan, daenae stop—please?—”
Her cries only pushed him harder. His grip on her hips tightened, holding her steady as he drove her higher, mouth wet and hot and merciless. Her fingers tangled in his hair, hips lifting to meet his tongue, desperate and shameless.
Then everything inside her snapped. She shattered on his mouth with a sharp cry, her entire body seizing, trembling uncontrollably. He didn’t stop—he licked and sucked her through every tremor, dragging it out until she was limp and wrecked, gasping his name through tears.
When he finally rose, his mouth was slick with her, his eyes burning with pride and want. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, then leaned in close, forehead to hers.
“Ye taste like heaven, lass,” he whispered. “And I could spend the rest of me life makin' ye come apart like that. I could do it every night and still want ye more.”
Erica could barely speak, her body still thrumming, heart pounding like a war drum. She pulled him down into a kiss that tasted of sweat and salt and something holy. Her hand slipped down, finding the hard line of him straining against his trousers, and he groaned into her mouth.
But he pulled back slightly, eyes filled with fire and something else—restraint.
“Nae yet,” he said, voice raw. “Tonight’s about ye . I want to ken every sound ye make, every way yer body sings under my hands. I want ye tremblin' until ye can't say anythin' but me name.”
Still breathless, Erica tried to steady herself, but Lachlan wasn’t done. Not even close.
He moved lower again, hands spreading her thighs as he kissed the soft skin just below her hip. His breath was hot, and when his tongue returned to the slick center of her, she let out a sharp gasp.
“Again?” she whispered, eyes wide, body still shaking.
“Aye,” he murmured against her. “And again. Until yer body forgets how to stand.”
His voice was husky, thick with want, but every touch was still measured, still meant for her. He took his time this second round, more teasing, less urgency, like a man who knew he had her exactly where he wanted her—and wanted to savor it.
He slid two fingers inside her, slow and deep, curling just right. She cried out, clutching the sheets as his mouth and hand worked in sync. He sucked gently on her clit while his fingers moved with practiced rhythm, stroking that sensitive spot until her eyes rolled back.
Her legs shook. She tried to pull away from the overwhelming pleasure, but he held her still.
“I cannae—Lachlan—” Her voice cracked as her body bucked.
“You can,” he growled. “Ye’re going to. Just for me.”
Her second climax hit harder than the first, stealing her breath, making her sob his name as she came undone. Her body went rigid, then limp, sinking back into the mattress as if gravity had tripled.
He didn’t move right away. He kissed her inner thighs, her stomach, the valley between her breasts—slow, reverent. His hands skimmed up and down her sides, grounding her, soothing her.
When she opened her eyes, he was watching her with a quiet intensity, his face half-lit by the fire still flickering in the hearth.
“Ye alright?” he asked softly, brushing damp hair from her face.
“I daennae even ken where I am,” she whispered, voice wrecked with bliss. “Ye just... ruin me. Over and over.”
He chuckled, the sound low and full of pride. “Nae ruined. Just opened up.”
She reached for him, hands shaky, but he took them gently and pressed them against his chest.
“I meant what I said earlier,” he murmured. “Tonight’s for ye. I daenae need anythin’ else.”
“But I feel like I want to … ” she said, starting to rise.
He stopped her with a kiss, tender and long, then leaned his forehead to hers.
“Nae until ye are sure. Once we cross that place, there’s nay going back for either of us.”
He shifted down again, this time with his whole body between her legs, settling in like a man on a mission.
She braced herself, expecting the same rhythm—but what came next was deeper.
He teased her sweet spot with the flat of his tongue while his fingers returned inside her, slower, firmer, unrelenting.
But this time, he whispered to her while he moved. Words in English. Words in Gaelic. Things that made her blush, made her breath hitch, made her body feel too small to hold everything he was pouring into her.
“Ye’re perfect like this... so wet for me... so sweet.”
His mouth never stopped. His fingers curled and stroked and worked her until she was thrashing, crying out nonsense, nails digging into his forearms.
When the third climax came, it tore through her like lightning. She screamed his name, body locking up as wave after wave hit her. She sobbed into the crook of her arm, overwhelmed, undone, whispering his name like it was the only word she remembered.
Lachlan crawled up beside her, pulling her into his arms. She was still trembling, skin flushed and slick with sweat. He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her lips.
They lay in silence for a while, just breathing together, bodies tangled.
When she finally spoke, her voice was barely audible, but clear.
“I’ve never felt anythin’ like that before.”
He stroked her back, listening.
“It wasn’t just the way ye touched me... it was how ye saw me. Like I was... sacred. Like I mattered.”
He pulled her closer. “Ye do matter.”
She pressed her face to his chest, heart still racing. And in the warmth of the firelight, wrapped in his arms, she finally let herself believe it.