The Highlander's Touch Novels & Stories

He wears a leather tunic. He is sprightly, hopping out of the carriage and landing on the ground. I find myself staring at him. He heads straight for our Alpha and the two embrace, slapping each other's backs. "It's good to see you," Alpha Maxwell says. He has the energy of a pup, I think, rather than a distinguished grandfather like Alpha Nico. "You, too," Alpha Nico responds. "May I introduce my mate, Luna Tatiana." The Luna steps forwards and shakes hands with the visiting Alpha.

Until his heat presses into my chest. His thumb grazes my waist and I flinch, feeling the touch like a burn through my layers of clothing. His face is an icy, unreadable mask. The scar over his left eye seems to give off an almost golden glow. Coupled with that sharp jawline, the man almost looks ethereal — like he fell out of the sky unlike the rest of us. He presses closer until my front is completely plastered against his chest, until his fingers are digging into my hips. For someone who claims to be disgusted by my presence, Lachlan Montclair sure likes to touch me.

"I've been investigating Mia since the wedding. Something didn't add up." "What do you mean?" He slid the photograph across the table. "Do you know this man?" I studied the picture. He was older, maybe fifty, with dark hair and a sharp jaw. He looked familiar, but I couldn't place him. Something about the way he held himself confident, cold reminded me of someone. "No," I said. "Who is he?" "His name is Victor Hale." Elias paused. "He's Damon's business partner." I looked up. "What?"

“Why? Are you afraid of me?” He moves closer, touching her long, black hair and smelling her neck. Her scent drives him crazy, the fragrance of her skin lingering in his nostrils. He wonders how Slagle loved her every moment he dominated her naked body. His hands start to graze her, and his lips caress her neck, gently kissing her seductive lips down to her nipple. It is very late when she realizes she is almost half-naked, Slagle enjoying her body. Perhaps because of the affection she feels, she lets Slagle claim her body, intensifying the warmth when Slagle comes harder.

“Smile wider, my love. Everyone is watching us.” I turned to him with the sweetest expression I could manage. “I am just happy to be here with you.” A tall man in a sharp black tuxedo approached us immediately. “David Miller! Good to see you out and about. And this must be the famous Clara we have heard so much about.” David shook the man’s hand firmly. “Yes, this is my wife. Clara, meet Richard Harlan. He controls half the shipping ports on the east coast. Richard, Clara has been my everything these past years.”

She wanted his hands everywhere in her body driving her out of her senses. He poured water on her water and washed her back for her and her hair too. He stopped moving his hands around her body testing to see how she reacts to that. Yulvar felt disappointed that he stopped touching her but didn't dare say a word. She was never one to beg and she was not going to start now. "Your back is done, Legacy Yulvar," he said to her. "You have yet to wash my feet," Yulvar said. She knew that it was her lust talking, all she knew was that she needed the attention he gave her even just for a while.

Something about the way she looked in that moment—cheeks flushed, eyes bright, laughter still dancing on her lips—made his chest tighten. “You should dry off,” he muttered, turning away. But before he could step away, she reached for him. “Adrian.” He froze as her fingers curled gently around his wrist. Her touch was soft, tentative. His pulse thundered in his ears. She had touched him before—small, fleeting brushes of fingers, innocent gestures that shouldn’t have mattered. But now, standing there in the dim glow of the lantern, with the storm raging outside, it felt different. More real.

He takes the plate, muttering something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like, “We’ll see.” We sit at the table, and for a few blissful seconds, there’s only the sound of forks scraping against plates. But of course, I can’t leave well enough alone. “So,” I say between bites, “about this no touching rule…” He groans. “Not this again.” “I’m just saying—it’s a little dramatic, don’t you think? We’re adults. We can survive the occasional accidental brush of the arm.” “It’s not dramatic,” he says flatly. “It’s simple. No touching means no lines get crossed.”

He played with my hair, twirling my curls around his tattooed fingers. I took a deep breath, involuntarily picturing the scene of him pressing my face into the glass table and fucking me from behind. The thought was intrusive. And too vivid for comfort. I did want that. “Brave will be touching you here,”he murmured, letting the back of his fingers graze my collar bones. “And here” he moved over my exposed cleavage,touching the skin softly and I let him, because he was hot. “Knowing that all these men are watching”. He nodded his head to the left,into the group of men he wasn’t even looking at.

“Don’t shave him. Also, for now don’t cut his hair either.” “As you wish,” Thomas don’t understand what was going on but he silently decided to allow the beautiful girl to wash him. He closed his eyes leaning back against the tub when she finished scrubbing his back. Silently he experiences her soft hands all over the hard angles of his body. When he suddenly realized she was holding his penis in her hands he opened his eyes. “You are perfect, sir.” She said still smiling sweetly. It was clear she enjoyed touching him. He looked down her blouse that was partly opened revealing her taught nipples close to his eyes. He looked around wondering where the green-eyed woman was. It appears she has