Claiming Her

“I mean to say,” she whispered. “I love you.”

His eyes widened, then his head dropped back to the bed and he murmured something—it sounded to be an Irish prayer—then he lifted his head and kissed her, gently, so gently. “And I, you, Katy.”

Her tears fell onto their kiss. “I am sorry,” she whispered.

He said nothing, just lifted his hips, rocking into her.

“But I…” she moved on him. “Aodh, the world may hush me, but not you. When you did, I quite lost my mind.”

“Aye, you did.” He curled his hands around both her hips.

“We will find a way,” she promised.

“This is our way.” He pulled her slowly forward, spreading her open as he sank in farther. Her head fell back as a sluggish undulation of pleasure moved through her.

“I was dying without you,” she said, a whispered confession.

“I died a long time ago, Katy.”

She leaned over his mouth. “You are not dead.” She kissed his lips. “You saved my life. You are flame and fire.”

“No. You are the fire. I will tend you.” She closed her eyes, focused on the sensations rippling through her, the scalding pleasure brought by Aodh’s slow possession of her. His acceptance of her, his need for her. Her hair swung, her breasts swayed.

He held her hips, took over the rhythm. “I will listen to you, Katy, when you have something to say. And I will consider it well.”

“I know.”

“But you cannot do that again.”

“I will not.”

“And I will not hush you.”

“Good.”

“That said…,” His words drifted off in an ominous way.

Her body, splayed by him, stilled.

Shifting so that he reclined on only one elbow, he slid his hand between their joined bodies, abrading her slippery-sensitive skin with his thumb, pushing into her wetness, a hard pulse over the nub at the crest of her. “When we are in our bed, Katy, this is mine,” he said, and did it again.

Heedless, she flung her head, trying to breathe, trying to nod.

He sat up and cupped the back of her head. “And when we are in our bed, your mouth is mine.” He slid two painted fingers into her open mouth.

She turned to him, closed her lips around his hard fingers. He stroked them in and out, at the same rhythm she was rocking her hips. As the hard thrust of him pushed up inside her, so his fingers took her mouth. Golden pleasure, hard pleasure, hot shudders of pleasure, filled her.

“When we are in our bed, your body is mine, whatever I want, however I want it,” he instructed, and his mouth closed over her breast, both tongue and teeth.

She arched her back as he took her hard, his mouth alternating between her breasts, their hips meeting in a hard, striking, relentless rhythm. Her body shuddered under the storm of pleasure.

It was over almost before it began. She climaxed with huge, shattering undulations that moved through her body in successive waves. Aodh came deep inside her, a hot, cascading eruption, urging her to come again, and again, as he held her and whispered in her ear of how much he loved her.

Less than half an hour later, he was back on the walls, making plans with his men.

*

“You snore,” said a voice, yanking her out of sleep the next morning.