Page 22 of The Story of his Highland Bride (Dancing Through Time #4)

22

C harged with emotion, the atmosphere shifted as Eloise and Jackson held one another in the bubble of her bedroom. His kiss was magic in itself, moving against her lips like they were casting a spell of hope together. Her kiss answered his call, her hands running up the hard muscle of his chest to feel his beating heart. It raced, like it, too, was thudding out the brief time they had left.

“I don’t want to go,” she whispered, kissing his neck, his chin, his chest, his shoulders, every bit of him that her lips could reach.

He found her mouth, walking her back toward the bed as he crushed his sorrow against hers, making sweet wine of their situation. “I cannae even think of it,” he told her.

The edge of the bed knocked into the back of Eloise’s knees, buckling her. But she didn’t have to fall far, as the stuffed mattress caught her backside. From there, she gazed up at Jackson, knowing what she wanted, seeing that he wanted the same. And thanks to the small packet of pills in her handbag, which she’d still been taking diligently, there weren’t too many complications to consider. At least, she hoped not.

“Come here,” she purred, taking hold of his leine and pulling him down.

Instead, he sank to his knees, his fingertips unfastening the ribbon that gave some shape to her dress. Never allowing his gaze to leave hers, he gathered up her skirts and slipped them out from under her, drawing them up slowly. She raised her arms to help him, grateful for the heat of the fireplace as he tugged the dress away from her, dropping it to the floor.

As he leaned in to kiss her, he slid her underwear down her legs, letting them join her dress. As for the modern contraption of her bra, he still didn’t understand how it worked, so she saved him the hassle and removed it herself until she was naked in front of him.

“Ye’re… beautiful, Love,” he murmured, his gleaming eyes taking all of her in, savoring her figure the way he’d done so many times before.

“And you’re not playing fair,” she replied, bending forward to grasp his leine.

Within a minute, he was stripped bare, and though she had seen him naked before, the thrill of it never wore off. He was the kind of man that shouldn’t exist in real life, his entire body rippling with hard-won muscle, his abdomen like a mountain range, his chest broad and peppered with soft hair, his thighs so sculpted she’d have believed they were carved from marble. And as for his manhood—it wasn’t a disappointment.

Rising up to kiss her, Jackson pressed his body forward, pushing her back onto the bed. His kisses traversed a familiar path, his lips and his tongue dancing all the way down from her neck to her chest, where he paused to taste her pert nipples, sucking gently until she bucked with longing. Hearing her gasps of bliss, he chased her pleasure over her stomach and around her hips, savoring the soft skin of her thighs until, at last, he reached the source of her greatest ecstasy.

His tongue rolled against that swollen nub, knowing precisely what she liked. Meanwhile, his fingers slipped inside her, moving in slow strokes that, this time, guaranteed the promise of more. There was no way she was leaving the bedroom, or 1701, without knowing him intimately. It was the only way, in her mind, she could be certain of not forgetting him.

My heart will know. My body will know. Even if I can’t picture him anymore, I’ll remember… and I’ll know he’s waiting, and that’ll spur me on to find him again, she told herself, as she writhed to the rhythm of his expert symphony.

It wasn’t long before she felt her body climbing to the highest heights of her ecstasy: her muscles tightening, her breath quickening, her blood rushing, her skin tingling with feverish heat. Forever listening to the sounds of her pleasure, translating the language of it, Jackson sucked gently on her pulsing core, before returning to exactly what he’d been doing before. The sensitivity in her skyrocketed, every touch of his tongue tipping her over the edge, into her euphoria.

When it came, it tore through her, her back arching up off the bed like she’d been possessed by the spirit of pleasure itself. She grasped handfuls of blanket, her head thrown back as the pressure of that bliss pulsed in her veins, ricocheting through her like a thundercrack.

Closing her eyes, she cried out his name. “Oh, Jackson! Jackson! My love, yes! Yes!”

He tended more softly to her secret nub and the hot depths of her until the bliss ebbed. With a knowing smile against her skin, he kissed his way back to her lips, his arms slipping underneath her to pull her further back onto the bed.

There, among the woolen blankets and soft furs, she felt the first graze of his manhood against her eager sex. Her legs bent at the knee instinctively, her fingernails raking lightly down his back before settling on the powerful muscle of his backside. She stole a cheeky squeeze that accidentally brought his hips forward, giving her a delicious taste of what was to come.

“Oh—” Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment.

“Are ye havin’ doubts?”

She opened her eyes again, peering up into his worried gaze. “Doubts are the last thing on my mind,” she told him. “I’ve fallen in love with you, Jackson. This is… what I want.”

“I’ve fallen in love with ye, too,” he replied softly, pressing a sensual kiss to her lips as he rolled his hips back and forth, teasing her. Some sensitivity still remained, and every slick stroke of his manhood against her pulsing nub made her shiver with delight.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, and as his lips sought the curve of her neck, and his hips rocked back, she felt him. All of him.

Slowly, he eased himself inside her, her fingernails digging deeper into his flesh as a strangled cry escaped her throat. He was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. He filled her up entirely, but he didn’t rely on size to please her, his first stroke gentle and considerate. In fact, she was the one desperate for the next thrust, as he stilled inside her, to let her grow accustomed to the sensation.

“Are ye in pain?” he asked, his voice throaty with desire.

She shook her head, gasping, “The opposite.”

“Are ye certain?” He didn’t move a muscle, infuriating and delighting Eloise in equal measure.

“I’m certain,” she rasped. “I want you, Jackson. I want you.”

With a smile and a kiss to her parted mouth, he rolled his hips back, withdrawing until too little of him remained. A second later, he sank back to where he belonged, Eloise’s legs locking tighter around his waist as if they were determined to hold him there.

They moved together like they were made for each other, her hips rising to meet every measured stroke, their hands exploring warm skin, their bodies united far beyond the physical. His lips caught her gasps of bliss, her mouth absorbed the vibration of his moans, their every sense attuned to one another, their ecstasy in complete harmony.

It was far greater than anything she could’ve imagined, and she’d imagined this a great deal since their first kiss in the hallway outside the Feasting Hall, and likely before then, too. She realized, with a coy smile, that if this was what it was supposed to feel like, then she’d never really gone to bed with anyone before. It warmed her to think of him as her first, but without all of the awkwardness and doubt of a first experience.

“Yes, Jackson!” she called out, as he rolled them onto their sides, hooking her leg over his arm as he plunged deeper into her.

She ran her hands through his hair, bringing his head to her neck to feel his kiss on her throat, while her body swayed to his lead, needing more of him, needing every bit of him. And he gave it with a passion that transcended the world around them, lifting them both to a heaven of their own making, where only they existed in paradise.

If Eloise had just been able to hold onto that feeling, she knew she’d have been able to overcome any obstacle that came their way. She’d have elbowed Father Hepburn again, hitting him so hard that he rethought his entire life and calling; she’d have given the Old Gods a stern talking to, ensuring that they let her pass back and forth between her time and Jackson’s whenever she pleased; she’d have written her next book in a week flat, handing it triumphantly to Harriet with the words, “By the way, the story has changed. Hope you don’t mind.” She’d have done a lot of things, but power like that couldn’t last.

“Ye’ve bewitched me,” Jackson panted, as he gripped his arm around her and lifted her up, sitting her back down into his lap without ever breaking their union. “I cannae get enough of ye, Love. Me mind craves ye, me body craves ye, and me heart longs for ye.”

She wrapped herself around him as her hips ebbed and flowed, taking the lead, riding the deep moans out of his chest. “There’ll never be anyone else,” she replied, as much to herself as to him. “There couldn’t be, after you.”

“That’s why I’ll wait forever,” he growled, dipping his head to draw her nipple into his mouth, making her cry out and buck in his lap. “I never wanted… love before, and I willnae… want it after, if it cannae be… with ye.”

It was a tormenting thought, lost in the throes of their passion. Both were young, yet they were resigning themselves to lives of solitude, if they couldn’t have each other. A bittersweet promise, though only time would tell if they’d keep it. She’d know, if she searched his name, while he would never find out.

Fighting away anything that wasn’t Jackson, in that moment, Eloise braced her hands against his shoulders and moved faster, exerting herself until she was back in paradise. He seemed to have the same thought as his hand slipped between them, his fingertips seeking out her hidden nub.

“Oh, my love,” she purred in delirium, arching her neck back as he devoured her throat with fierce kisses, his free hand splayed up her spine, holding her through her wild abandon.

His touch ignited fires that had only been embers until then, stoking an inferno of ecstasy that had her mind swirling and her limbs trembling. She was too hot, burning up with the desire she held for Jackson. It drove her on, moving quicker and quicker, clinging onto him like everything depended on it. All the while, he strummed her secret nub, knowing every bit of what she liked, and what could propel her straight into her conclusion.

All of a sudden, delicious delirium seized her. Her mind flooded with light, her heart about to burst, her stomach tightening, pulling her entire being taut. She squeezed her eyes shut, her mouth parting in a scream of pure ecstasy that must’ve awoken the entire castle, but she didn’t care who heard; she only cared about what she and Jackson were feeling, together.

A moment later, a stirring moan slipped from Jackson’s lips, building into a roar as he grasped her behind with his free hand and plunged into her twice more, before his body froze with the surge of his own climax. She felt the pulse of him, deep within her, matching the pulse of her body. And as he bit her shoulder lightly, the throb of him sparked a smaller wave that crested in her abdomen, sending wavelets up into her chest until her entire being tingled afresh.

In the wake of their mutual end, Eloise collapsed into him, letting her hold him tightly. She nuzzled into his neck, trailing lazy kisses across his fiery skin, so satisfied she could barely think.

“Ye must be a witch,” he murmured, finding her mouth. “Only a witch could wield that kind of magic.”

She chuckled. “For the last time, I’m not a witch.”

“I ken.” He grinned. “But ye’re still made of magic, so far as I’m concerned.”

She held his face, admiring the shine in his eyes and the color in his cheeks. “Then you must be a warlock.”

“A what?”

“Never mind.” She kissed him again, savoring the slow meeting of their lips.

He smiled into the kiss as he tipped backward onto the bed, bringing her with him. Still enveloped in each other’s arms, they lay there, entangled in one another. It was the best night of Eloise’s life, and she never wanted it to end. How could she, when she’d had to travel back in time to find a love like this—the kind of love she’d never thought possible?

Sliding off him, she settled into his side, resting her head on his broad chest. He held her close, stroking her hair and pressing little kisses to her forehead, while he stared up at the ceiling, clearly lost in his own thoughts. Eloise gazed out toward the window, doing much the same thing.

That’s when she heard it: a soft thud, coming from beyond the windowpane.

At first, she ignored it, thinking it was just a moth, drawn to the light that spilled out of the glass. But as the thuds grew more insistent, a shape appeared against the pane: a shape she couldn’t ignore.

“A starling,” she whispered, her heart sinking.

Jackson glanced down at her. “Hmm?”

With a shaky hand, she pointed toward the window. “The starlings, my love.” Her breath hitched. “They’ve come for me.”