Page 131 of The Laird's Masked Passion

“What are ye daeing?” he whispered.

“Shhh,” she echoed, pressing a finger to his lips.

Then, he felt her hand on his trousers, gently massaging his manhood. He swallowed heavily, waiting to see what she would do next. He expected a kiss, a touch, a glance, but not the most carnal sight of all: her on her knees before him.

He wanted to stop her, but her grip on his mind, soul and body was absolute, and all he could do was let go.

She made quick work of his kilt, and then her bare fingers wrapped around his palpitating manhood. Only that would have been enough to make him explode, but he had to control himself.

She offered up her tongue to him, and the very touch felt electric.

“Dammit, Elspeth…” he groaned.

There was nothing civilized in him now. He was all beast, ravenous for his wife to take all of him inside of her wet mouth, but he reminded himself that he needed to be gentle. She could not even imagine what her wet kisses did to him, what her tongue stroking against his shaft did.

He gripped her hair tenderly, but hard at the same time.

“Slowly, Elspeth,” he warned, knowing that he would not be able to control himself much longer.

She did not seem to heed the warning. Instead, she took him into her mouth, sucking, as she moved front to back, swallowing a bit more of him with each thrust. Fire exploded somewhere inside his belly. His entire body tightened. It was beyond anything he could ever have imagined. He had never experienced such a rush from a woman’s mouth.

His orgasm swallowed him up furiously, and his mind exploded, bucking against her lips as he finished. When she pulled away, her lips were still wet and swollen.

He pulled her up and pressed her against the wall.

“I want tae be inside of ye,” he murmured against her lips.

“Then take me,” she whispered back.

He did not need to be told twice. When he slid inside of her, she was wet and sensitive from her climax and this. He wanted to kiss her, but the sight of her burning eyes while he claimed her was too potent.

“Like this?” he asked, sliding in and out of her, while her own eagerness made her heat welcome him.

“Aye,” she moaned. “More, more…”

His body held hers, pressed against the wall, taking her, claiming her harder each time, until they both exploded with their lips locked and their fingers intertwined.

And although they both still refused to accept it, their hearts were just as intertwined.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Niall arrived shortly before noon with twelve armed men and the expression of someone attending a wedding feast rather than entering a castle preparing for war.

Colin watched from the steps as the riders crossed the courtyard. Their cloaks were dark with rain, and their horses streaked with mud from hard travel. Guards closed the gate behind them at once.

Niall swung from his saddle and looked up at Colin.

“I hoped marriage might improve yer welcome.”

Colin descended the steps. Niall’s amusement faded as he studied the healing wound beneath Colin’s coat and the hard set of his face.

“How bad?”

“Three men dead at the northern passage. One wounded.”

“And the feast?”

“More dead. More injured.”