His woman.
His soon-to-be wife.
It was time to stake his claim. Forget all these idiots fawning over her at the convention. He was going to ask her to marry him this weekend, he decided.
She’d be his and then everything would fall into place.
Taylor moaned softly under him, and he felt her body clench around him, felt the hot vise of her pussy grow tighter around his cock as she came. He pushed into her again, thrusting harder, until his own orgasm ratcheted through him with blazing force.
Let them look at her all they wanted; she was his.
Chapter Twelve
Loch was up to something, Taylor decided the next morning. She crossed her legs and ate a bowl of cereal on the hotel’s plush sofa, glancing idly at a program of the day’s events. Loch sat nearby, texting furiously on his phone. When she’d asked him what he was up to? He’d just grunted at her. A few times, he’d gone out to take a call on the balcony.
It had been going on all morning.
She watched him, curious. Was he planning some sort of surprise getaway again? She felt a little twinge of excitement at that, and then a follow-up twinge of guilt when she thought about how Sigmund would take it. But really? Being offline the last few days? She’d been so utterly relaxed.
Of course, incredible sex last night with Loch had helped.
They’d made love in the Kerru Forest room. She’d gouged the hell out of that plastic mushroom with her nails, but, god, it had been worth it. They’d fumbled to rearrange her clothing long enough to make it back to their hotel room, where they’d continued what they’d started. How many times had they made love last night? She tried to count. At least four—no wait, five. She’d initiated sex in the middle of the night because she’d woken up and his big, yummy thigh was pressed between hers and she’d wanted to jump his bones. He’d been happy to comply.
Normally, Taylor exhausted her boyfriends. Well, maybe exhausted was the wrong word. She just tended to throw herself headlong into everything she loved, and sex was definitely on that list. Her sex drive was normally higher than those she dated, but she was thrilled that Loch seemed willing—and able—to match her. The fact that he was really damn good at sex? Definitely a big, whopping mark in the plus column.
Now if he would just stop being sneaky. He glanced over at Taylor and she thrust her lower lip out in a pout.
“What is it?” he asked, reaching out to caress her knee.
“Are you done talking on the phone?”
“Why, did you want to go down to the convention? We can.”
Well, actually, she’d been considering sex again, but the convention wasn’t a bad idea. He’d spent a lot of money to get them last-minute tickets, so she supposed they should go for a while. Mentally, she cringed at the thought of running into Julian again. God, she hoped not. “Okay with you if I dress up again?”
His brows went up. “Same dress as yesterday? I’m pretty sure we wrecked it.”
Yeah, her skirt hadn’t really survived their fierce play in Kerru Forest . . . Not that she minded. “Nope. I have some more regular stuff. Long skirt and corset. Blouse with puffy sleeves. It’s a tavern wench costume.”
Loch chuckled. “As long as I don’t have to be in costume as well.”
“Oh, I don’t know, I think you’d make an adorable jongleur. They have codpieces in-game, you know.”
He snorted. His phone rang again, and he got to his feet, heading for the balcony. “Let me get this, and then we’ll go.”
She sighed, watching him as he shut the door behind him. What could possibly be going on that was taking so much of his time and mental energy? Even when he was sitting with her, he was distracted. It was like he was . . . waiting for something.
But what?
Mystified, Taylor put her bowl down. She considered heading over to the balcony to listen in on the conversation, just to satisfy her curiosity. Instead, she headed for the bedroom and pulled out another costume. If he wanted to tell her, he’d tell her. She’d just have to learn to be patient.
Patience? Not one of her strong suits.
***
Everything was set.
Loch checked the ring box one more time, just to make sure that it was still actually there. The square-cut diamond winked back at him from its spot, nestled in velvet. The band was unique—gold filigreed leaves intermingled with two swords that pointed at the gigantic stone. It had taken some work; the band itself had been for sale by one of the vendors downstairs, and he’d snuck down while Taylor was visiting a few panels on the game and he’d pretended to stay in and take a nap. Loch had had to pay extra to get a jeweler to switch out the big fake blue stone for a real diamond and then deliver the re-jiggered ring back to him. It had involved a lot of phone calls but the end result was rather appealing-looking, and he thought she’d like it.
Now he just needed to find the perfect time to give it to her. He’d considered giving it to her in the privacy of their room—which had appeal in that it would probably lead straight to sex—but he’d decided to go the more public route. Maybe it was that after seeing all these men leer at her, he wanted to stake his claim. Maybe he wanted everyone to realize that sexy, funny Taylor belonged to him and only him.
So he’d scanned the list of events for the afternoon, looking for one that might suit his purposes. Most of them were nonsense listings that he couldn’t make sense of, since he wasn’t very up on game lingo. There was one event called “Guild Warring,” which sounded intriguing. Apparently it was something like one of the parties she frequented, where people brought their laptops and gamed together in person. Odd, but it sounded like something up Taylor’s alley. And her guild-mates would be there, which meant that everyone would know he’d proposed to her if he did it in front of them.
Which meant someone would tell that arse Sigmund, and he’d get the hint and finally leave Taylor alone.
The more Loch thought about it, the more he liked the idea. It was perfect, really. He’d free Taylor from Sigmund’s harassment, get the girl, and soon be heading back to Bellissime, throne-free and worry-free.
***
“You sure you want to do this?” Taylor asked Loch, clutching her laptop to her bright red corset. “We can do another event if you want, or just go out to dinner if you’d rather do that.”
“This is fine,” Loch told her, his own laptop in hand as they rode the crowded elevator down to the convention center. She was squeezed in between an elf and an orc, and the shoulder pads of the latter kept smacking her in the jaw. “These are your people, so you should hang out with them. I want you to have fun at the convention.”