Read Online The Highlander's Harlot (Sword and Thistle Book 1) by Laurel Adams - Free Book Online

pleasure was his answer. I’d never thought to feel someone touch me there—at least not known that it would feel so exquisitely warm and pleasurable. His strong fingers probed me delicately, finding a spot that caused me to cry out. Oh, yes . I wanted him to touch me there again, and when he did, I made fists of the bed covering, thrashing my head at the wicked delight. A moment more, and I was rocking against his hand, desperate, for something…for something…and then it happened. The searing climax that forced the air from my lungs, and left me clutching him, crying his name.
    “My laird!” I cried, shuddering still in pleasure. “I didn’t know I could feel such a thing.”
    That made him laugh a little. “Didn’t you? Aye, you’re more innocent than I ever guessed.”
    Perspiring and dizzier than before, I moaned a bit, squeezing his hand between my thighs as the lingering tremors shook me. Meanwhile, he looked enormously satisfied with himself. But I couldn’t be content. My heart thumped wildly and I knew he was aching with desire, because his erection made a tent of his kilt. And his eyes, oh, they smoldered.
      “Just enjoy it, lass,” he said, softly, when I tried to reach for him.
    “But I want to touch you,” I whispered, my hands sliding down his body. “I want…I want…I want to give you as much pleasure as you just gave me.”
    “You did,” he said, simply.
    But I couldn’t imagine how.
    Then I wondered if this is what he’d been trying to say to me all along. That he couldn’t take pleasure as a normal man or woman might, not with gentle kisses and stroking and touching. That he needed something more. That he needed the nakedness of a woman’s shame. And I was willing to give him mine. “What is it that you need from me? I would do it, if I knew.”
    “But I wouldn’t take it from you,” he said, softly. “I’ve already taken enough. Because you’re a vexing woman—one who surprises me anew every single day.”
    “What can you mean?”
    “I believed you to be a good, gentle, obedient girl. A simple girl who would acclimate to her circumstances and accept her fate. But in the time I’ve known you, you’ve not only changed from a meek and shrinking girl to a saucy wench, but into a hellcat besides.” He twined his fingers with mine. “Ian told me you waded into the fray with the Donalds without even a dagger. What the devil did you think you could do to those men with these beautiful little hands?”
    “I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. “I wasn’t thinking of anything but saving my sister.”
    He gave a shake of his head, kissing me softly where a bruise was surely rising on my jawline. “How can such a delicate thing have the heart of a warrior? Too bad you weren’t born a lad—you’d have made a fine fighter for the clan.”
    Feeling the pull of attraction between us, I dared to ask. “After what you just did to me, can you really wish I’d been born a lad?”
    “T’would have made you less vulnerable to men. Men like me.” Staring hard into my eyes, he clenched his teeth. “I should’ve never let you go.”
    “No,” I agreed. “You shouldn’t have. I wanted to stay with you.”
    He grimaced. “I meant that I should never have risked your coming to harm.”
    “You couldn’t have known the Donalds would be there.”
    “No. But it’ll haunt me that I wasn’t the one who fought them off. That it was Ian’s sword that defended you, not mine.”
    “His sword is your sword, my laird,” I said softly. “He’s yours and I’m yours. Everything and everyone in this castle is yours. If only you would accept it. I’d happily be whatever it is you need me to be.”
    “My whore?” he asked, a touch of anger in his voice. Defiance, even. “My harlot? Because that’s how I’d treat you. That’s what I’d want you to be. When I give myself over to the carnal act, I’m not the man you know. I’m not a good man, then.”
    “I don’t