In time, John grew impatient, and he tugged her out into the corridor, up the stairs, and through the last door on the left. Inside his bedchamber, the music was faint and the light was soft. She leaned back against the oaken door, her head spinning after so much cider and whisky.
John immediately set to work unbuttoning his coat and tearing away his cravat. He was a wee bit more careful removing his sporran, dirks, and belt, but he made quick work of them, as well.
“Have I said how beautiful you are?” he asked.
No, he hadn’t. But his eyes had been devouring her since she’d first set foot on the grassy aisle.
Breathless and burning, she licked her lips while she watched him unbutton his waistcoat. “Ye havenae said much since our vows, English,” she panted.
“All my thoughts are a bit obscene, I’m afraid. Wouldn’t want to embarrass you.”
“Gentlemanly of ye.”
“Your gown is exquisite.”
She looked down at the swells of her breasts, which he hadn’t torn his eyes from since entering the room. “Do ye think it flatters my shape?”
His head tilted to a predatory angle. Hazel eyes were little more than amber rings around large, dark pupils. He wetted his lips and took a sharp, shuddering breath. “Yes.”
It took her a moment to reply. Another. And another. “As this marriage is purely for procreation purposes, I’m glad ye find me pleasin’, husband.”
“More than pleasing.” He shook his head as if to wake himself and ran a hand over his jaw. Then, he tossed away his waistcoat and crowded closer. A frown tugged. “Who says our union is meant solely for procreating?”
“I say. That’s what this marriage is, English. A venue for procreation. I want a bairn. Sooner the better.”
His eyes burned. His hands braced on the wood to either side of her head. “Oh, love. Did you just challenge me?”
For a moment, she might have gone a wee bit faint. Her new husband was a potent blaze of seductive power. Luckily, she was able to regain her senses and put him in his place. “Nah,” she replied, her voice only a little raspy. “Merely spoke the truth. Perhaps ye should try it.”
His body, surrounding her in heat and hardness and pine-scented lust, went still. But he ignored her dig. “A bairn, you say?”
“Aye.”
“So, pleasure is unimportant.”
“Well, I wouldnae say that,” she hedged, though her body wanted to scream the denial.
“But the point is to plant the seed, as it were.”
“Aye.” God, her throat was dry. And her knees were weak. And her nipples were so hard they ached. And her skin pulsed with every breath.
“No kissing, then.” His lips brushed hers with the barest slide. “Or unnecessary touching.” His knuckles stroked her breast’s upper swell before moving down to swirl around her nipple. “Just my cock deep inside you as frequently as possible.”
She whimpered. Melted against the door. Nuzzled his jaw like a cat in heat and arched her back, begging for more of him.
“I think you are challenging me,” he whispered in her ear. “And here’s my reply, love.” With swift efficiency, he plucked at her skirts until they were bunched around her waist, leaving her naked to his touch. Then, using his wrist to keep her skirts raised, he slid a knuckle directly over the slick knot of sensation that swelled and pined for him.
Her shocked gasp turned to a faint moan.
Only then did he give her his answer. “I accept.”
TlU
This woman drove him mad. Her defiant chin. Her feisty tongue. Her taunting smirk.
He wanted her until his teeth ached.
And she wanted a babe.
Far be it from him to shrink from a challenge.
“First things first,” he murmured, tasting the skin of her soft, creamy throat. Between her thighs, he unfurled his finger and gently slid the length downward amidst her ripe petals. When he reached the tight opening he sought, he circled. Circled. Breached. Then sank his longest finger inside her. “Must ensure you can take me comfortably, hmm?”
Her head fell back, her inner walls squeezing his finger while her damp thighs gripped his wrist. Her only reply was a deep, throaty moan and a bit more panting. She also gripped his hair with both hands. Good signs, all.
He added a second finger. “So tight here, love. You’ll need to be very wet.” He nibbled her ear—she loved that—and repositioned his body so his chest teased the tips of her breasts. “My cock is significantly bigger than my fingers.”
A long, feminine groan. “Ah, devil’s ballocks, English.”
He grinned and worked her swollen nub with his thumb. “Those are substantial, as well.”
“If ye mean to say ye’re the devil, I’ll believe ye.” She tried to draw his mouth to hers. “Kiss me. Please.”
“Oh, I shouldn’t like to waste my efforts”—he began thrusting his fingers in and out of her pulsing sheath—“on meaningless pleasures.” He nipped her shoulder. “We’ve a task to attend, after all.”
Her hands tightened in his hair as she struggled to pull him in tighter. “I’ve changed my mind. Ye may kiss me. I’m certain ye’ve enough energy for all manner of pleasures. Large ballocks, and all that.”
Despite feeling like his skin was too tight and his cock might burst into flames at any moment, he chuckled. “No, no, love. I’ll just ensure you’re wet enough to take me, shall I?” He moved his fingers in a deliberate rhythm, giving her just a bit more pressure with his thumb. “Focus, now.”
Her sheath tightened like a vise. She bit her lip, groaned and worked her hips against his hand.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, watching the cords in her neck and wishing he could bare her breasts. Later, perhaps. Once she’d fully surrendered, he’d indulge himself for hours. “Nearly there.”
Her patience ended with a growl. Small fists gripped his shirt. He thought he heard a seam tear.
“Now,” she demanded with harsh, rapid breaths. “Take me, damn ye.”
Her rough command struck him like a flaming arrow through a gap in his armor, straight into a spot he hadn’t suspected he was vulnerable—the place that itched when she insulted him. Where his need to claim her lived.
He’d planned to draw this out. Make her come and then pretend disappointment. Pleasure her with his mouth until she admitted he was more to her than a husband to father her bairns. More than a title or a convenience.
But she smelled like heated sugar and ripe summer fruit. She welcomed his touch with lush eagerness, arching her back and spreading her legs to let him have her. She dared command him to take her.
All his thoughts burned away. His control slipped. His muscles tightened. His cock was nothing but an aching throb. “Annie,” he whispered, trying to hold on amidst the dark, shocking flood of long-denied need.
She opened her eyes, midnight with her arousal. Her lips were full and lush, wet from her tongue. They should be wet from his.