Page 98 of Laird of Fury
A hot shiver ran down his spine at the final word.
“Aye,” he answered. “But I must admit I am nae an accomplished dancer.”
“It doesnae matter to me,” she assured him.
He pulled her into his arms and swayed them to the music. She was warm, warm in a way that made him never want to let her go again. He pulled her closer and nuzzled her hair, releasing a sigh.
“What is it?” she asked, looking up at him with a small smile.
“I am happy,” he murmured. “I didnae believe I could ever be so happy as I am now.”
She grinned and nodded. “I feel much the same. ‘Tis funny how I didnae want to marry, but here I am, happier than I have ever felt in me life.”
“I am inclined to believe this was Jonathan’s intention from the beginning.”
“Aye,” she agreed. “I believe so as well.”
He kissed her then, not caring that people were around them, ignoring the cheers that went up in the room. When he pulled away, he admired the flush on her cheeks.
He wanted to be alone with his bonny wife and away from his people’s prying eyes.
He led her out of the hall and towards his chambers, which he would soon convert to theirs because he never wanted to be apart from her any longer.
When they were safely behind his door, he pulled her into his arms again and kissed her. His hands found the laces of her dress, making quick work of them until she was naked before him.
He kissed her long and slow, undressing as he did so, and when he was finally naked, he moved them till she was beneath him on the bed.
Their kisses turned frantic as they caressed each other. It was nothing like their first coupling, where she had been shy and tentative.
She wrapped her arms around him, kissing him with as much fervency as she possessed. He smiled against her lips and ground his cock against her slick sex.
She shivered and bucked her hips, seeking him, and he obliged her, sinking into her warmth slowly, keeping his pace slow until her nails dug into his skin. He loved how she didn’t need him to treat her delicately.
His groans joined her cries, and soon he found it hard to keep a perfect rhythm as he drew closer to the edge. His hand slipped between them, drawing circles around her bud.
“I love ye, Talia,” he whispered. “Mind, body, and soul.”
She gasped and dug her nails into his scalp. “I love ye, Darragh. Mind, body, and soul.”
Their cries mingled as they both reached their peak, and once he finished spilling inside her, he rolled off her, pulling her into his chest.
“I love ye, husband,” she whispered softly.
He kissed her hair and breathed her in. “I love ye too, wife.”
The End?
