…God is he gorgeous.
Hamish—my husband—is reclined on his side next to me in the huge bed, after first claiming my virginity in the most spectacular way I could’ve ever imagined, and then claiming me twice more. He’s naked and stretched out, and as the firelight dances over his bare skin and his grooved muscles, I feel a heat pulsing wickedly between my thighs.
Three times, and more climaxes than I can even count, and I’m still hungry for him.
His body tightens as he sits up on one elbow, the ink of his tattoo rippling, and all of it taking my breath away. My eyes dance down over his grooved abs and hips, down until my cheeks redden at the sight of his cock—thick, big, and still so hard between his thighs.
My eyes flick to his, and I somehow blush even hotter as I see the look of amusement on his face.
“My, my, little queen,” he purrs. “Ogling, are we?”
I swallow, raking my teeth across my bottom lip as our eyes lock.
“Perhaps?” I whisper boldly. Hamish grins wolfishly.
“It’s just that…” I shyly look away.
“Yes?”
“You’re…” I take a shaky breath, determined to stop being such a blushing bride. Even though that’s literally what I am.
“You’re still so… so…”
“Hard.”
I almost whimper at the word as it rumbles from his perfect mouth. I nod, swallowing.
“It’s just that my friend Catriona heard from one of her father’s kitchen maids that a man…” I trail off, blushing fiercely as I drop my eyes. So much for not being that blushing bride.
Hamish chuckles. “You’ve heard that a man is done after one time?”
My eyes drag to his, and I give a small nod. Hamish just grins hungrily as he leans in closer, his fingers tilting my chin up as his lips barely brush mine.
“Well perhaps most men are,” he growls. “But then, I’m not most men, little love.”
I whimper as his lips sear to mine, kissing me slow and soft and stealing every bit of my breath away with him when he pulls back.
“Books,” he growls, taking us back to his question. “You enjoy them, don’t you?”
I hesitate for a moment. After all, as much as I love to read, it’s no secret that most men aren’t looking for a woman who fancies reading when they’re looking for a wife. As my aunt Saorsie had said multiple times “men want a clean home and a warm bed, not a debate partner or a girl with her head in the clouds.”
“I’m aware that you do, love,” Hamish says softly, a smile teasing his perfect lips.
I nod. “I do.”
“What books.”
I shrug. “All sorts? Anything I can get my hands on, actually.” My mouth twists. “There aren’t many at my father’s house.”
Hamish nods, encouraging me, and so with a deep breath, I start to open up.
“Fiction stories—you know, books about knights and dragons.”
He grins.
“And romances. And comedies and plays. Poems too.” I’m starting to ramble, but I can’t seem to stop.
“And sometimes scholastic books about the sciences, though a lot of them are slow to get into, being in Italian and French—”
My mouth snaps shut, but not before I see that grin on his face grow wider.
“You read French and Italian?”
I blush, stammering as I look down. “No, I—”
“Yes, you do,” he says quietly, making me shiver. I swallow, biting at my lip again as I raise my gaze to his.
“Most men don’t like that in a woman.”
“I’m not most men,” Hamish growls lowly, the intensity in his voice making me gasp quietly.
“No, you’re not…”
I breathe the words as he leans in, cupping my jaw and kissing me slow and deep. His tongue swirls with mine, making me whimper softly before he pulls away.
“I have present for you. A wedding present.”
He pulls back and stands from the bed, and I blush as I watch his gorgeous, perfect body as he does. He’s built from stone, like a statue or something—all perfectly chiseled muscles and a body that sends sinfully wicked desires through every part of me. It doesn’t help that his cock is still swollen and hard and so big between his thighs. And as I watch him, a tingle runs through me.
How in the world did that fit inside of me?
Heat teases through me as I watch him cross the big bedroom chamber, and my heart skips a beat as I remember that this isn’t just a dream.
We’re married now. I’m his now, for always.
Hamish grabs something off of a shelf on the far wall, turning back and walking back over to the bed.
“Here,” he purrs gently, passing me something wrapped in dark red silk. “For you.”
I blink, taking the weighty present about the size of a book from him.
“What is it?”
He grins.
“Open it, beautiful.”
I bite my lip as I pull at the velvety tie binding it, loosening the silk wrap, which falls open in my lap. My eyes go wide.