A Highland Wolf Christmas
Page 59
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“Because we needed to make the other mistakes to learn that what we have here is truly special.” The bra came undone. He pulled the straps from her shoulders and tossed it aside. He marveled at her breasts that he had so enjoyed already.
He kissed them each reverently and then, with purpose, devoured the rosy bud on one, caressing the other with his hand. She was so hot, and she was his. She dazzled him. Made him feel like a warrior who had found a maiden to cherish, to love. He growled with a wolf’s primal need, then cupped her buttocks and pulled her tighter, her nails raking down his back like a wolf in ecstasy.
He lifted her until her legs were around his hips and then carried her to the bed. She wouldn’t let go, and that was fine with him. They ended up on the bed, her legs still wrapped around his hips. His mouth on hers, he kissed, licked, and tasted the wine on her lips, the only thing she had managed to drink.
She hadn’t eaten enough at dinner, he remembered. He had every intention of taking her downstairs to raid the kitchen later after everyone had gone to bed.
“You still have your pants on,” she complained, tugging at him to take them off.
He was aroused to the nth degree, wanting to be inside her, to slake her need and his as well. He hurried to stand and remove his pants. He swore it had never taken him this long, even when he was in a rush to strip and shift in a moment of danger. She had so thoroughly turned him inside out. As soon as he removed his pants and briefs, he was ready.
She smiled at him.
“And you, lass,” he said, his voice unsteady as he ran his hands down her waist, snagged her panties, and pulled them off.
The red curls covering her sex were wet with arousal, telling him that she was just as ready for him as he was for her. He joined her on the bed and began to coax her into climax, his fingers stroking her nub, his tongue stroking hers. Hot satisfaction raced through his blood as she arched and moaned at his rousing touch. He was torn between wanting to bring her to fruition at her own pace and wanting to drive his cock deeply into her—because then the mating would be complete and they would be together, a mated pair always.
Calla was going to die—and she had never thought it would happen like this. Never had any man made her feel this special and loved. As much as she’d been fighting this attraction between them, worried it was too soon, she knew now he was perfect for her. She was so close to the edge, her pulse and his racing as if they were wolves running across a glen. She was so wrapped up in the way he was making her blood sizzle, his strokes undoing her. She tried to continue to knead his muscles, feel the delectable way they moved beneath her touch, and smell the delightful muskiness—hot wolf, man—making her all the more turned on.
And then she felt as though she was racing to the top of the highest peak in the Highlands when she cried out. Guthrie belatedly covered her mouth with his, but it was way too late. She was certain everyone in the castle had heard them.
She was still on her sex-filled high when Guthrie eased into her and began to thrust.
This was it. The mating Guthrie kept thinking he’d have, but that had never come to pass. He was so glad it hadn’t and that he and Calla were finally together. Being with her like this felt better than right. Her body arched against his as his mouth sought hers, and he penetrated her with his tongue. She moaned and he continued to surge deeply into her, stroking her tongue with his to build the sweet, painful anticipation. He could feel her tensing, her inner muscles clenching, and nearly smiled when she cried out again, his own release following. A feral growl of contentment, satisfaction, and fulfillment slipped from his throat.
She smiled up at him, then nipped at his shoulder. “Everyone in the whole castle heard me.”
“Well, not everyone. Most likely,” Guthrie said.
She frowned up at him.
“Probably most,” he said smiling, “but not all. I’m sure somebody was fast asleep.”
She groaned. He snuggled against her, kissing her cheek and wanting to do this again and again.
“You know you’ll have to leave and return to your own bed, or everyone will think we are mated wolves for certain.”
“Hmm, all right,” he said, sliding the covers over them and then pulling her against him.
“This isn’t returning to your bed.”
“Aye, I will.”
But he didn’t. And he had no intention of doing so. And she didn’t insist.
***
When it was nearly midnight, Calla woke, her stomach grumbling, and that woke Guthrie too. He smiled at her.
“I’m hungry. But…you don’t have to go with me.”
He sighed. “I told you I would also be hungry after all that loving.”
She was glad. Despite knowing how to get there on her own, she really loved his company. He got out of bed and threw on a pair of boxers. She slipped into a tank top and shorts, and pulled on a robe. Hand in hand, they made their way to the kitchen.
They had made chicken sandwiches when they heard light footsteps approach. Calla wanted to slip out a back way, but Guthrie got her a glass of milk and then kissed her cheek and led her to the kitchen table.
Julia walked into the kitchen and smiled. “I’m glad to see you’re eating, Calla.” Then she proceeded to fix some hot cocoa for herself. “Everything all right?”
“Just…hungry,” Guthrie said, and Calla wanted to poke him in the ribs.
She couldn’t help feeling so anxious. None of this—the mating or the financial difficulties—had been discussed yet with Ian and Julia, and she was afraid she’d blown the secret about their mating when she’d cried out while they were making love. Not to mention, here it was midnight, and Guthrie was in his boxers and she was in a robe. What was she thinking?
He kissed them each reverently and then, with purpose, devoured the rosy bud on one, caressing the other with his hand. She was so hot, and she was his. She dazzled him. Made him feel like a warrior who had found a maiden to cherish, to love. He growled with a wolf’s primal need, then cupped her buttocks and pulled her tighter, her nails raking down his back like a wolf in ecstasy.
He lifted her until her legs were around his hips and then carried her to the bed. She wouldn’t let go, and that was fine with him. They ended up on the bed, her legs still wrapped around his hips. His mouth on hers, he kissed, licked, and tasted the wine on her lips, the only thing she had managed to drink.
She hadn’t eaten enough at dinner, he remembered. He had every intention of taking her downstairs to raid the kitchen later after everyone had gone to bed.
“You still have your pants on,” she complained, tugging at him to take them off.
He was aroused to the nth degree, wanting to be inside her, to slake her need and his as well. He hurried to stand and remove his pants. He swore it had never taken him this long, even when he was in a rush to strip and shift in a moment of danger. She had so thoroughly turned him inside out. As soon as he removed his pants and briefs, he was ready.
She smiled at him.
“And you, lass,” he said, his voice unsteady as he ran his hands down her waist, snagged her panties, and pulled them off.
The red curls covering her sex were wet with arousal, telling him that she was just as ready for him as he was for her. He joined her on the bed and began to coax her into climax, his fingers stroking her nub, his tongue stroking hers. Hot satisfaction raced through his blood as she arched and moaned at his rousing touch. He was torn between wanting to bring her to fruition at her own pace and wanting to drive his cock deeply into her—because then the mating would be complete and they would be together, a mated pair always.
Calla was going to die—and she had never thought it would happen like this. Never had any man made her feel this special and loved. As much as she’d been fighting this attraction between them, worried it was too soon, she knew now he was perfect for her. She was so close to the edge, her pulse and his racing as if they were wolves running across a glen. She was so wrapped up in the way he was making her blood sizzle, his strokes undoing her. She tried to continue to knead his muscles, feel the delectable way they moved beneath her touch, and smell the delightful muskiness—hot wolf, man—making her all the more turned on.
And then she felt as though she was racing to the top of the highest peak in the Highlands when she cried out. Guthrie belatedly covered her mouth with his, but it was way too late. She was certain everyone in the castle had heard them.
She was still on her sex-filled high when Guthrie eased into her and began to thrust.
This was it. The mating Guthrie kept thinking he’d have, but that had never come to pass. He was so glad it hadn’t and that he and Calla were finally together. Being with her like this felt better than right. Her body arched against his as his mouth sought hers, and he penetrated her with his tongue. She moaned and he continued to surge deeply into her, stroking her tongue with his to build the sweet, painful anticipation. He could feel her tensing, her inner muscles clenching, and nearly smiled when she cried out again, his own release following. A feral growl of contentment, satisfaction, and fulfillment slipped from his throat.
She smiled up at him, then nipped at his shoulder. “Everyone in the whole castle heard me.”
“Well, not everyone. Most likely,” Guthrie said.
She frowned up at him.
“Probably most,” he said smiling, “but not all. I’m sure somebody was fast asleep.”
She groaned. He snuggled against her, kissing her cheek and wanting to do this again and again.
“You know you’ll have to leave and return to your own bed, or everyone will think we are mated wolves for certain.”
“Hmm, all right,” he said, sliding the covers over them and then pulling her against him.
“This isn’t returning to your bed.”
“Aye, I will.”
But he didn’t. And he had no intention of doing so. And she didn’t insist.
***
When it was nearly midnight, Calla woke, her stomach grumbling, and that woke Guthrie too. He smiled at her.
“I’m hungry. But…you don’t have to go with me.”
He sighed. “I told you I would also be hungry after all that loving.”
She was glad. Despite knowing how to get there on her own, she really loved his company. He got out of bed and threw on a pair of boxers. She slipped into a tank top and shorts, and pulled on a robe. Hand in hand, they made their way to the kitchen.
They had made chicken sandwiches when they heard light footsteps approach. Calla wanted to slip out a back way, but Guthrie got her a glass of milk and then kissed her cheek and led her to the kitchen table.
Julia walked into the kitchen and smiled. “I’m glad to see you’re eating, Calla.” Then she proceeded to fix some hot cocoa for herself. “Everything all right?”
“Just…hungry,” Guthrie said, and Calla wanted to poke him in the ribs.
She couldn’t help feeling so anxious. None of this—the mating or the financial difficulties—had been discussed yet with Ian and Julia, and she was afraid she’d blown the secret about their mating when she’d cried out while they were making love. Not to mention, here it was midnight, and Guthrie was in his boxers and she was in a robe. What was she thinking?
