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The Highwayman

Book by Kerrigan Byrne · 8 quotes · Farah And Dorian, Hot Sex, Farah Leigh Mackenzie

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The Highwayman Quotes

“I'm going to devour every inch of you," he growled into her ear, setting her blood on fire, incinerating any incoherent thought she might have had left. "But first..." His cock settled against the throbbing slit of her body, and Farah was only able to produce a mewl of demand before he found his way, and slid inside with a low groan. Hot breath brushed her cheek, but they only touched where their bodies joined.”

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“Your trousers!" she gasped when he followed some curiosity he found down the curve of her jaw. "They're wet." She could feel how drenched they'd become, absorbing the moisture of her desire, the friction creating a stronger, slicker surge followed by a shocking burst of pleasure as he ground them harder against her. "I don't care," he growled, passing his thumbs over her pebbled nipples in tandem, claiming her mouth and swallowing her startled cry as he rocked his hips against her again, and yet another time. Her thighs trembled, her stomach clenched, and a delight for which she had no name spread like a flood of fire through her limbs. "This pleases you?" He did it again, his own groan rumbling against her lips. Pleased her? More than strawberry tarts and decadent desserts. More than she'd pleased herself with him watching. More pleasure than she'd ever imagined her body capable of producing. But she could say none of those things, so she just hissed a "Yes!" as her muscles began some sort of ascension she didn't yet understand. With each of his movements, and every one of his kisses, the glorious sensation intensified, electrified, until, unable to help herself, her head dug into the bed and her hips peeled off it. Her body bowed with a jerking, pulsing ecstasy so acute, she felt as though she was lost in an apoplexy. Her heart raced, forcing her blood into each extremity, and then stalled, only to charge again. She thought she heard her name. She knew she gasped illogical things. Maybe screamed words, but couldn't hear them, or for the life of her, remember what they were. Perhaps the same incoherent tongues spoken by the evangelicals whilst taken in rapture, for surely that's what this was.”

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“His hunger was a ferocious thing as he lowered to his elbows and let the yearning clench deep in his belly. The slickness of her desire beckoned him. He split her cleft with his gloved finger, coating the tip with her nectar. She trembled, but remained silent, as she'd agreed to do. Curious, he rubbed his thumb and finger together, testing the glossy consistency. Soon his cock would be coated with this, slick and wet and--- Christ, if he didn't get his mouth on her soon, he'd go mad. Dorian had no fucking idea what he was doing, but her scent lured him down until he pressed his lips to her sex. Her hips flinched beneath him, arched a little, and he could tell she fought to remain passive, but her body betrayed her. Good. Because his betrayed him, as well. She tasted like heaven. Like desire and release. Like want and fulfillment. Like a woman. His woman. The predator in him was going to dine until he'd had his fill. And he had a lifetime of hunger to satiate.”

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“His tongue split her in one long lick. He growled against her, and Farah whimpered in reply, unable to stop herself. But she didn't say a word. Not. One. Word. Blackwell had become that jaguar she'd evoked the first time she'd laid eyes on him. His shoulders rolled and bunched just so as he settled in for a feast. He left no part unexplored. His bold tongue found places she'd never known she possessed. He parted her with his fingers, exposing her in a way so absolute, she could barely stand it. And yet, she read the veneration on his face as he looked at her, as he tasted her, as if he committed every single crevice and protuberance to memory. He learned very quickly what made her gasp, what caused her to arch or retreat. He played like a man who'd only just learned how. Testing her reactions, re-creating sensations, enjoying a bit of cruelty as only the Blackheart of Ben More could. Driving her to the edge of her wits and then pulling back, leaving her groaning, straining, and sweating. She jerked as his finger found its way inside her slick channel, and the vibration of his groan against the soft hood of flesh he'd sucked into his mouth with a flattened tongue shattered her composure.”

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“But, to her ultimate surprise, a tight, aching heat bloomed low in her belly, starting in her womb and reaching for the shaft of branding heat plunging and retracting from inside her. Her lips parted of their own accord, and a small sound of delighted surprise escaped. Blackwell's eyes sharpened. Questioned. Farah's body answered without thought. A lift of her hips, a press of her thighs, and a soft moan of encouragement. It was all he needed. Blackwell didn't kiss or taste her. Instead he watched her face with an intensity that abashed her. Every flutter of her eyelid, or intake of breath, the way her lips parted or pressed together. His body again became a conduit of her gratification. It shocked her how he could support his heavy frame all this time on one powerful arm, but the thought dissipated as he used his other hand to explore her, rendering her mind useless and directing her awareness like a symphony conductor. He traced the line of her jaw, the curve of her cheekbones, as though committing her to memory, or visiting one, she couldn't be sure. As the slow pressure mounted, her moans became mewls, her mewls became cries. His finger drifted along the outline of her lips, slipping past her teeth and leaving the taste of sex on her tongue. Sex and leather. She closed her lips and rolled the glove between her tongue and the roof of her mouth, feeling the hard ridge of his fingers beneath. He hissed, growled, and pulled his hand away, drawing it down to her hip and gripping the curve of her ass, spreading her wider for his accelerating thrusts. Farah's head tossed against her pillow, her eyes rolling back into their sockets, retreating from sight, as her other overwhelmed senses demanded her attention. Leather and sex. Darkness. Spice. Chilly air. Hot Blood. Textiles. Smooth, slick flesh. Wide, hard male. A mouth on hers. A tongue thrusting inside, tasting the essence of her he'd left there, lapping at it.”

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“Dorian--- please!" Her voice trembled, her muscles clenched around his shaft. "I'm sorry," he gasped as a new blaze ignited on the embers of his previous climax. She would hate him. He already hated himself. But she felt so good, and he'd waited so long. "I'm sorry but I--- I can't stop." "No," she gritted out, her voice low and guttural. "Please--- faster." He fucked her then. One hand bracing her hip, the other grasping the hair at her scalp, imprisoning her head and exposing her throat as he piston into her tight body again and again. Little pants of demand escaped her. Tight whimpers of pain or pleasure. Then she bucked against him, a reedy cry becoming a shrill one. She twisted and writhed, pulled and arched as her intimate muscles drew another soul-shattering climax from him. He could feel his seed leaving him and pouring into her. He sank deep enough to touch her womb with his own flesh.”

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“They each gasped at the feel of her tight flesh gripping at him as he pulled away, and welcoming him deep as he returned. Farah clothed at the impossibly powerful muscles of his back, feeling more interruptions to the smooth skin that shouldn't be there. She kissed him harder, pouring all her love into him. Dorian drank from her lips and pushed himself deeper, his height making the union of their mouths difficult if their bodies were to stay clasped together. Farah buried her face into his neck, unwilling to let the magnificent sensation of his flesh fused to every inch of hers end. He rocked deep within her, curling his spine in slow, painstaking thrusts. She became a creature of pure need, bottomless desire, and shameful appetites. Her bones relished his weight. Her sex hungrily took every bit of his, stretching and lifting to receive the man she loved. "You're so warm," he moaned. "So fucking soft." He said other incoherent things against her hair. Made vows. Gasped curses. He was her jaguar, his movements so lithe and graceful. His body so perfect and powerful. She thrust upward, her moans becoming supplications. Her hands wandered inquiringly down the straining cords of his back to grip the muscles of his buttocks as they clenched and released. The tide of ecstasy flooded her so swiftly and took her so high, that she almost missed the violent jerks in his hips as he buried himself only a handful of times before seizing on a shuddering convulsion”

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“Stay with me," she encouraged. "Let me feel your skin move along mine." "Yes," he hissed, finally moving his hips. They each gasped at the feel of her tight flesh gripping at him as he pulled away, and welcoming him deep as he returned. Farah clutched at the impossibly powerful muscles of his back, feeling more interruptions to the smooth skin that shouldn't be there. She kissed him harder, pouring all her love into him. Dorian drank from her lips and pushed himself deeper, his height making the union of their mouths difficult if their bodies were to stay clasped together. Farah buried her face into his neck, unwilling to let the magnificent sensation of his flesh fused to every inch of hers end. He rocked deep within her, curling his spine in slow, painstaking thrusts. She became a creature of pure need, bottomless desire, and shameful appetites. Her bones relished his weight. Her sex hungrily took every bit of his, stretching and lifting to receive the man she loved. "You're so warm," he moaned. "So fucking soft." He said other incoherent things against her hair. Made vows. Gasped curses. He was her jaguar, his movements so lithe and graceful. His body so perfect and powerful. She thrust upward, her moans becoming supplications. Her hands wandered inquiringly down the straining cords of his back to grip the muscles of his buttocks as they clenched and released. The tide of ecstasy flooded her so swiftly and took her so high, that she almost missed the violent jerks in his hips as he buried himself only a handful of times before seizing on a shuddering convulsion”

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