Pleasure

A nxious though he was to finally possess Willow, Niven wanted to draw out the pleasure for them both once they reached the bridal chamber. He began with a kiss while reaching behind her to unfasten the buttons of the wedding gown. When the tiny pearl fastenings proved too much for his clumsy hands, he backed off the kiss and began licking the corner of her mouth.

Her sweet moans sent a message to his hands to get busy completing their task. When she licked the corner of his mouth, his fingers surrendered and he simply pulled the bodice apart.

He must have had a guilty expression on his face. "It's not as though I'll ever wear it again," she said, stretching her neck seductively as the bodice fell from her shoulders.

She sighed contentedly when he licked her neck, prompting him to move his tongue's attentions to her ears.

The gown slid off her body and pooled at her feet. From there it was an easy matter to lift the chemise over her head. "Thank God," he exclaimed. "No corset."

"I didn't want to slow you down," she replied coyly.

"Saucy lass," he growled, "I vowed to worship ye with my body and I intend to take my time worshippin' every inch o' ye."

Gooseflesh marched across her shoulders.

"Are ye cold?" he teased, knowing perfectly well the reason for her shivers. Her nipples tightened visibly when he massaged her temples.

Encouraged, he brushed light kisses along the tender skin of her inner arms from elbow to wrist.

"Niven," she breathed, pressing her hand to his arousal. "I want you."

"Aye, lass. I'm achin' to possess ye as ye can tell. But let's make the pleasure last."

Willow King was no longer the timid, frightened mouse Willow Halstead had been. Clandestine trysts with Niven had unearthed a woman who reveled in sexual pleasures. Their separation had almost driven her mad with wanting. Once she'd tasted the forbidden fruit, she couldn't get enough of it.

That amusing notion emboldened her further. "I'm at a disadvantage," she cooed, twirling her thumbs in his palms. "I'm naked and you're not."

She smiled inwardly when his manhood protested the confines of his kilt. A man's palms were evidently the way to capture the interest of his male part.

"Ye ken how to remedy that situation," he quipped, teasing eyes wide.

It was tempting to undress him hastily, but if he wanted to go slowly, she'd oblige.

By the time she got to the kilt, it was evident his self-control was slipping. He'd clamped his hands on her shoulders, gritted his teeth, looked to the ceiling and closed his eyes. She unfastened the last buckle of his kilt, feathering kisses on his outstretched neck as the garment slipped to the carpeted floor.

Niven had been a fool to think he could take things slowly. He'd waited long enough and desperately wanted his bride now. Trembling with need, he struggled to remind himself it was Willow's pleasure he wanted to draw out. He scooped her up and carried her to the bed. After raking his gaze the length of her nakedness—a foolhardy act that only aggravated his problem—he opened her legs. He nibbled and kissed his way up her thighs, all the while sifting his fingers through the soft hair of her mons. Though it nigh on killed him, he stopped short just before his lips reached the treasure he sought. Her moans and wriggling hips assured him she was enjoying these new attentions.

The thought then occurred to his male brain that they had the rest of the afternoon and all night to experiment with new things. There was no need to delay now.

His swollen cock heartily agreed with that notion, but he couldn't deprive himself of a taste of her juices, nor her of a release.

Separating her nether lips with his thumbs, he licked and suckled the diamond of her desire until she exploded.

Only then did he thrust inside, rejoicing when he felt her maidenhead tear. He reveled in the tight wetness of her sheath as he thrust and thrust again. Euphoria carried him to soar with the gods when his seed erupted inside her. He wasn't sure but he might have yelled the MacGregor war cry.

Willow had expected pain the first time she and Niven joined their bodies, but there was none. He was a big man but his maleness felt so right inside her. She clung to him as he thrust, relishing her power to excite this beautiful man who could have any woman he wanted. But he wanted her.

"I love you," she cried when their eyes locked and she saw the sincere emotion in those green depths.

" Is tu mo ghràdh a-mhàin ," he rasped. "Ye are my only love."

When his warm seed bathed her womb, he yelled something else she assumed was Gaelic, but this life-changing moment wasn't the time to ask for a translation.

Breathing heavily, he collapsed on top of her. She twirled her fingers in the sheen of sweat on his back, wishing he could stay inside her forever.

"I want to stay inside ye forever," he said, filling her heart with an astonishing realization. She'd been uncommonly lucky to find the one man destined for her.

"I'm too heavy," he grunted, easing up on his elbows.

She held him fast. "No. I love to feel your weight on me."

They lay together until his manhood slid from her body. He turned her to lie atop him. She nestled her face into the crook of his neck and soon fell asleep.