Read Highland Surrender Online
Authors: Dawn Halliday
Highland Surrender (28 page)
She’d known he was firm all over, but never had she imagined how the sight of him would affect her. He was all lean muscle, tight, hard. His cock just as rigid as the rest of him.
“Leave the stockings on,” he said quietly. He bent down and scooped her up. She shivered at the contact, the collision of their bodies, sizzling hot, igniting a fire beneath her skin.
He tossed her on the bed. Before she could move an inch, he loomed over her.
“God.” He stared down at her, glistening emotion crowding his eyes. “How I’ve wanted to touch you. To be with you. To love you.”
“Me too.” She gulped, trying to fill her body with air. Her mind reeled from the vision of him bare, from the hard press of his skin against hers.
“My need for you has grown since the moment I first saw you. It won’t stop, Ceana. I can’t stop it.”
The sensations rocketing through her originated from all the points where his skin touched hers, from her ankle to her breast.
“I want to touch you.”
“Aye,” she murmured. “I want to touch you too.”
They turned until they lay face-to-face. Gripping the back of his head, she drew him close. She kissed his mouth, explored every facet, every curve of his handsome, soft lips. She ran her hands through his short black hair, over the rough skin of his jaw, down his neck. She stroked his muscled shoulders and arms, gentling her touch when she passed over the newly forming scar of his gunshot wound.
He explored her too. Warm, questing hands ran down the undersides of her arms, beneath her ear, across her collarbones.
She pulled away from his lips to crawl down his body. His chest was magnificent. Each dip and curve of his lean muscle made her blood quicken and rush to center between her legs. Squirming a little, she brushed her tongue over his tiny, taut nipple. He jerked and let out a low groan, and she smiled against the smooth skin of his chest.
“I love your hair.” His fingers sifted through the curly strands and cupped the back of her head as she traveled down his body. She pressed her cheek against his tight abdomen, kissed the jagged scar on his side, then darted her tongue inside his belly button and reveled in his smoky male taste.
Her lips traveled down the light trail of hair dusting the lower part of his stomach, and her chin bumped his cock. He made a strangled noise in his throat.
His cock was long, hot, and hard. She trailed light kisses up and down the rigid length. Closing her eyes, she sank into the glory of it, wrapping her lips around his girth and taking him deep into her mouth. Curling her fingers around him, she pumped him in time to the thrusts of her mouth, pulling the foreskin over the head as she drew up, then chasing it away with a simultaneous pull of her fingers and push of her lips. Each time she swallowed him deep, he hardened beneath her touch, and the veins covering his cock grew more prominent. The knowledge that his orgasm loomed close made her breath release in sporadic bursts.
Suddenly, he hauled her off of him. In a blink, he’d flipped her onto her back and loomed over her, his cock grazing her belly.
“A little . . . lower,” she whispered, squirming in a vain attempt to move his cock into position to enter her.
“No,” he said, his intense stare focused on her face. There was something new in the way he looked at her. There was such caring in his expression. There was
love
.
love
.
“It’s my turn to pleasure you.” His body slid down hers until he paused at her chest. Caressing the outside of her breast, he sucked a nipple deep into his mouth. The shock reverberated through her. Gasping, she clenched the bedcovers and arched her body toward him, wanting him to suckle her deeper, harder.
His lips grazed over her skin with tender kisses, and he nudged her thighs apart with his body as he slowly traveled downward. Ceana rose onto shaky forearms and watched his dark head nestle between her legs.
He made love in the same way he faced life: with passion and with care. Such strong, sweet feeling surged deep within her, she could have wept with the force of it.
He pressed his thumb against her clitoris, and she gasped, unable to stop herself from wiggling against his finger. Lowering his head, he slid his thumb downward, gently circling her opening and then sliding into her. She fell back as his tongue swiped over her in long strokes, each pass sending a prickling jolt through her body. His thumb worked her, thrusting into her, then retreating to circle her passage, then gliding inward again.
He worshiped her body with his mouth, stroking her in her most sensitive places, driving her higher and higher until she thought she’d burst apart at the seams.
“Too much!” she moaned, her hips jerking against her will. She couldn’t stop the twitching movements, the spasming of her muscles. The pleasure contracted and tightened in her, so acute it was almost painful. “Oh . . .”
He didn’t stop. He hummed against her, and when his tongue brushed over her clitoris again, she flew apart. The tight ball of pleasure exploded, and a sweet, piercing sensation barreled through her, causing her body to arch and undulate atop the bed. It spread through her belly, and then her limbs, until the tips of her fingers and toes tingled in release.
As the pleasure slowly faded, leaving residual sparks shooting through her, she stilled, moaning softly. Cam released her, traveling up her body, touching every part of her with his hands and tongue as he moved, stoking the subdued flames until they flared to life once more.
The press of his cock moved up her thigh and then settled in the notch between her legs, and she whimpered again, achingly sensitive from the orgasm.
“Ceana?”
She opened her eyes to see him staring at her, the question evident in his expression.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, Cam. I . . . want you. Please. I want you inside me.”
He gripped his cock and moved it into position, then, with exquisite slowness, slid in, inch by excruciating inch, pausing between each tiny push to revel in the sensation of their joining.
He watched her, and she knew he was aware of and receptive to every expression of pleasure that crossed her face, making it clear that her pleasure was as important to him as his own.
“Oh,” she whispered. Her body squeezed tightly around him, and the place where they joined burned with fiery heat. “Oh.”
He pushed deeper one final time, sliding the rest of the way inside her. They were lodged together, connected.
They were one.
He held that position, watching her with those dark, expressive eyes that said so much, that revealed his humanity, his care for her. His love for her.
“Tell me what you feel,” he whispered.
That emotion surged inside her again. Staring into his eyes, she slid her arms around him and held him tight, his firm skin sending tendrils of warmth through her to wrap around her heart in a sweet, comforting embrace.
“I feel you, Cam,” she whispered. “Only you.”
Right now, there was nothing between them. He was her world, and she was his. It was so right, so beautifully perfect. Ceana had never been happier.
He slid out and then in, staring at her. She strained toward him, gripping his solid arms. Suddenly, he drew back, and she whimpered her complaint. She clutched him, struggling to keep him close, to keep his skin touching hers, to urge him back inside her, to achieve that perfect connection once more. “It feels so good, Cam. I don’t want you to stop. Please . . .”
He lifted her legs and hooked them over his arms. Leaning forward, he thrust again, his invasion so deep she released a strangled gasp.
Lowering himself over her, his forearm resting beside her head, he gripped her thigh with his other hand. All by itself, his hand on her thigh would drive her to distraction, but the combination of that and his cock thrusting into her, his fingers tangling in her hair, and his lips taking hers in a ferocious kiss made her lose all awareness of anything besides the sensations his touch wrought on her.
She trailed her hand up and down his arm, her fingers taking in the flex of his muscle as he held himself over her. He pushed deep into her, so deep his pelvis brushed over her clitoris, and she cried out.
He strained over her, his body surrounding her, a rigid, powerful cage.
Ceana had never felt protected by a man. But this man covered her, worked her, held her within an armor of steel. And the way he looked at her cast a shield of warmth all around her, defending her from all thoughts of harm and death and misery.
She was safe here with him. She was no longer cold. She wasn’t alone. And she was so happy.
The sensations in her body and her heart built until Ceana sobbed out every breath, sure she couldn’t take any more. But, somehow, he held her orgasm at bay.
His eyes glittered down at her. His muscles flexed beneath her fingers.
Still, he held back, keeping her from coming, holding her on the brink of madness. She was going to fall apart, fly into a million pieces, shatter. She could not sustain this. Sweet release was within reach, but each time she stretched her hand to grasp it, he yanked her back.
“Oh,” she whispered. “No. No.”
“Yes,” Cam growled.
His thrusts roughened, turned savage, his gentle caresses forgotten. Her body was no longer her own. With each thrust, he wiped away her body’s memory of every other man it had taken into it. With each kiss, he cleared away every man she thought she’d loved. With each squeeze of her thigh, he obliterated every man’s touch on her skin. With each tug of her hair, he reminded her that it was him, Cam, the Earl of Camdonn, who protected her, who took her, who made her his. He softened her like clay and then refashioned her into something she’d never thought she’d be. Someone who was loved, without question and without fear.
She flew apart. Simply exploded, the sensation so intense she stopped breathing, stopped sobbing. Everything stopped except the white-hot rush of liquid pleasure. He went stiff around her, above her, inside her, and the intense pulse resonating through her body could have been coming from him or from her or from both of them as they reached the apex together, completely still and quiet, flooded with ecstasy.
Finally the pulse eased and reality hovered on the fringes, encroaching on the glow of pleasure. Cam lowered himself beside her, and, keeping his still-pulsing cock wedged inside her, he gathered her close. Warm and whole in the cage of his arms, she pressed her face against the solid wall of his chest.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
T
hey lay in contented silence for a long while. Just as Ceana was about to drift off, Cam slipped out of bed.
hey lay in contented silence for a long while. Just as Ceana was about to drift off, Cam slipped out of bed.
“What are you doing?” she asked drowsily. She blinked and rose up on her elbow, watching him as he pulled on his breeches.
“I’m going to take care of the horse. You sleep. I’ll be back soon.”
She didn’t want to sleep without him. She rose, dropped her shift over her head, and followed him through the door into a cavernous room with a sofa near the hearth and a large table in the center. Moonlight streamed in through open windows on the far wall.
“What is this place?”
“It’s one of my hunting cottages.”
“Do you come here often?” The cottage was clean and well stocked, as if someone lived here permanently.
“I have someone keep it clean and ready, in the event I decide to come on a whim.” He met her eyes. “Like tonight.”
“Convenient,” she murmured.
“Indeed.” He exited through the still-open front door and went to the horse, which was grazing contentedly on a bit of lawn just outside.
She watched as he removed the saddle from the animal, crooning that there would be plenty of oats and a long brush-down when they returned home tomorrow. Bemusement drifted through her as she once again took note of the caring and thoughtfulness he expressed to everyone: from the whore on the mountain to a common healer to a horse. It was impossible to reconcile this man with the image portrayed by the people of the cold, uncaring, and oh-so-
English
Earl of Camdonn.
English
Earl of Camdonn.
It made sense why Sorcha and Alan had remained such steadfast supporters of the earl. They knew—as Ceana now did—the true Cam. It was a shame his people had misjudged him so grossly.
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