Page 38 of A Highland Bride Forgotten
Need like liquid heat filled her body and pooled in her stomach. Her core throbbed with every brush of Archer’s tongue over her nipple, the feeling intensifying every time she managed to gather the courage to look down at him as he sicked on her breasts. His gaze never left her, and for once, he looked so open, so raw that River didn’t know what to do with herself. It was as if this Archer before her was even newer, another version of him she would have never thought existed.
“I wish to taste ye,” he mumbled over the swell of her breast as he dragged a finger down her stomach, then lower and lower, over her mound, until he reached the top of her seam. There, he suddenly pressed against a spot, and River cried out, her entire body convulsing with pleasure that she had never thought possible.
“Ach!” she shouted, her legs closing on reflex before Archer pushed them apart with a gentle, yet firm hand.
“That’s it,” Archer said softly, quietly, as if he was trying to calm a spooked animal. “Let me.”
And River did. She let her legs fall open on the couch as Archer settled properly between them, moving to her other breast tolick and suck on her nipple as his hand snaked lower and lower to find that spot again. With slow, gentle circles, he began to massage it, and that overwhelming first pleasure turned into something sweeter, a little duller, enough for River to relax and surrender to him for good.
Her body melted on the couch, and she didn’t even care that she was splayed out under Archer like that, without any shame. Still, her cheeks burned with embarrassment, but it wasn’t enough to stop her from undulating her hips, trying to get more of that delicious friction that seemed to send wave after wave of pleasure through her body.
“Archer,” River moaned, her hands finding his crown. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently at the strands as he began t kiss his way lower and lower, his lips following the path the hand had taken earlier. River’s eyes widened when she realized what he was doing, but she had no time to react before he settled lower on the couch and pressed the flat of his tongue against her opening with no warning.
She cried out again; she couldn’t help it. The pleasure was overwhelming, and so was the idea that he was doing this to her. River was quick to avert her gaze, but when she looked up at the ceiling, Archer stopped and took her jaw gently between his fingers, tilting her head down again.
“Look at me,” he growled. “I want ye to look.”
She blushed furiously at the command, but she had no choice but to look at him as he pleasured her now. If she ever so muchas moved her gaze for a moment, Archer stopped, and she never wanted him to stop. That velvet heat of his tongue against her folds, that wetness that mixed with her own had her gasping for breath and sent her heartbeat racing.
Every circle of his tongue over her sensitive spot, even flat drag of it over her seam brought River closer and closer to her climax. Pressure built deep in her core, pressure that demanded release, and in the end she found it when Archer flicked the tip of his tongue over that spot again and again, coaxing her orgasm out of her.
She shook as she reached her peak, but Archer worked her through it, his hands holding her securely as his lips and tongue continued to pleasure her until the very end. Warmth spread over her limbs—warmth and a comfortable numbness as she came down from her zenith, slowly catching her breath again, even as her mind was still empty of thoughts. It seemed to her that she was running on instinct alone, a deep, old knowledge that her body had stored for her until this very moment.
Archer didn’t speak. He only pressed a kiss to her forehead and gathered River in his arms to carry her to the bed. Once there, he laid her on the soft linens and pulled the covers over her body as she quickly drifted into sleep. She wanted to ask him to stay; she wanted to tell him to sleep there, in her chambers with her, but in the end, she didn’t find the courage. She only let her eyes slip shut in the quiet and the darkness of the room as Archer gathered their clothes, placing hers over the back of a chair and putting on his own once more.
It occurred to River, distantly, that perhaps she should have offered to do the same to him. It occurred to her that he would be leaving her chambers unsatisfied, and she wondered if that made her a bad wife, if nothing else. Still, she didn’t know how to offer such a thing. She didn’t know how to ask Archer if that was something he wanted, if she should be reciprocating.
What if he doesnae want me to? Where does that leave us?
Would he have asked if he wanted me to do somethin’? Did he nae ask because he didnae want me to?
These thoughts troubled her even as she heard the door click shut behind Archer as he left the room, and then as she slowly fell asleep. She didn’t want to consider the possibility that she had been disappointing. She didn’t want to consider the possibility that Archer had rejected her, in a way, for yet another time.
Nay...nay, this Archer wouldnae do that.
But how would I ken that? I daenae even ken who this Archer is or for how long he will be like this.
In the end, River fell into a deep, yet fitful sleep, these thoughts following her into her dreams.
14
The room was dark when Archer returned to it. A servant had lit a fire in the hearth and a few candles were lit for him to see, but the moonlight didn’t reach his room through the clouds. The moment he entered his chambers, he leaned against the door with a soft sigh, giving his length a sympathetic squeeze. He was still painfully hard, but the memory of River spread out under him like that was still fresh in his mind, and as soon as he would be in bed, he would make sure to make good use of it.
For now, he walked past the forechamber, where a sitting room had been laid out for him when he moved rooms, and entered the bedroom. He stretched his arms over his head, languid, slow, relishing in the lengthening of muscles. His hands reached for the vest that he had neglected to button when he left River’s room and carelessly tossed it aside.
But just as he was walking over to the washbasin, something caught his eye—a movement, or perhaps a suggestion of it, in the shadows.
He whipped around, his hand reaching for his blade, and the attacker immediately showed himself, knowing he had been seen—a shadow himself, a figure cloaked in dark fabric, hooded so that his face would not be visible.
The clouds parted and a sliver of moonlight illuminated Archer’s bedroom. It did little to help him identify the man. All he could see was his shape, and even that was little more than a lump of fabric as he moved, approaching him.
“Who are ye?” Archer growled, but had no time to say anything else before the figure charged at him, almost pushing him off-balance. Archer struggled to keep himself upright, planting his feet on the stone floor to keep his balance as his arms blocked the figure’s first blow. Steel flashed in the night, the blade catching the fire of the candles.
As the other man pushed him, they stumbled into the four-post bed, Archer’s back colliding with one of those pillars. He let out a grunt, the shock reverberating through him, but he quickly recovered. With a grunt, he kicked the other man wherever he could reach—and the kick connected with his shin, forcing him to stumble back with a growl.
This time, it was Archer who charged at him, trying to grapple him before he could get away. He managed to wrap his arms around him, but the man was tall, if not as broad as him, and his strength matched his own. He violently tried to twist in Archer’s grip, desperate to get himself free, and he managed to do so when he forced them both back and Archer hit his back again on that very same spot, the impact knocking the wind out of him.His arms slipped for just a moment, but that was enough for the other man to escape his grin.
Still, he didn’t try to run. Instead, he squared up in front of Archer, pulling himself to his full height, the blade held tightly in his hand.
