Chapter 22

After drying off from the rain and changing into fresh clothes, Billie sat once more by the window where Domnhall waited for her to start their game. With that simple suggestion, he had managed to take her mind off her family’s departure, though every now and then, she would still glance outside at the road and find it empty, another wave of yearning welling up inside her.

“Are ye ready?” Domnhall asked with a smile that suggested he was certain he would win, just like he had been certain Billie wouldn’t be a good enough rider to keep up with him.

Once again, he was mistaken.

Instead of responding, Billie picked the first pawn and moved it two spaces ahead, then sank back into her chair to watch him.

There was an intensity about him, even as his first move was automatic. He was already planning how the game would go, just like he planned his battles, and Billie found the look of concentration on his face alluring. She couldn’t allow him to distract her with her good looks, so instead, she tried to focus on the game, neither of them taking any pawns for the first few moves.

Billie was the one to go for the first kill. She took one of Domnhall’s pawns, placed it on the side of the board, and then leaned back once more to steeple her fingers under her chin.

Domnhall opened his arms wide as if to say he was an open book for her.

“How many lasses have ye bedded?”

Domnhall’s hands fell back down, taken by surprise by Billie’s question. It amused her to watch him panic for a few moments, surely trying to come up with a number that would sound plausible but not too high.

“Isnae there somethin’ else ye wish tae ken?” he asked instead of telling her.

“O’ course there is,” Billie said. “An’ I will ask it once I have another o’ yer pawns.”

Domnhall’s eyes narrowed as he gazed at Billie, but she only smiled at him, patiently waiting for his response.

“I didnae count,” he said.

“I’m sure ye can give me an approximate number.”

Domnhall huffed, a hand coming up to thread through his hair. Billie could now see the appeal in torturing him a little. After all, he deserved it for everything he had done to her.

“I dinnae ken,” he insisted. “Perhaps… fifty?”

Mouth falling open, Billie said, “Fifty?”

“Forty?”

“Forty!”

She didn’t know if he was telling her the truth. Forty and fifty women sounded like so many to her, but perhaps they were double that and he was only trying to give her a number that appeared more sensible. Either way, it was odd to know there had been so many before her.

“But there is only one lass fer me now!” Domnhall added quickly, trying to salvage the situation. “Ye ken that, mo ghraidh. I only want ye, nae one else.”

Billie hummed, not exactly unconvinced—as she knew Domnhall was telling her the truth—but rather unimpressed by his efforts to placate her.

“Play,” she commanded.

Domnhall, utterly defeated, made his next move, taking one of her pawns. For a few moments, he considered the question he wanted to ask and, in the end, he said, “What about ye? How many lads have ye seduced?”

Billie supposed that she had it coming, but she still sputtered, the question leaving her with blushing cheeks and at a loss for words. How could he still think that she was a seductress? Had he not understood she had never been with another man?

“None,” she said firmly. “The only one who has ever touched me is ye.”

“An’ that night?—”

“I told ye about that night,” Billie reminded him. “I thought it would be me last chance tae be with someone before I married, but had I kent ye’d be such a brute, I would have never even looked at ye!”

Domnhall looked at her with the kind of fond exasperation one usually reserved for angry kittens. He pushed his chair back and walked to her, before falling to his knees on the floor and taking her hands in his.

“Forgive me,” he said, mumbling against her knuckles as he pressed kisses on her hands. “I didnae mean tae upset ye. I believe ye, I promise.”

With a sigh, Billie let her head fall back against the chair, but she didn’t try to pull away from Domnhall. When he laid his head on her thigh, she carded her fingers through his hair but tried to fight back the smile that threatened to spread over her lips at how adorable he was when he wanted to be.

“If I’m such a brute, why did ye marry me?” he asked. “Why did ye insist?”

“Because ye would have married Abigail had I nae insisted,” said Billie. “An’ I didnae wish tae dae that tae her. All she ever wanted was tae marry fer love an’ I was certain ye would treat her horribly an’ she would never love ye.”

“Ye thought I was such a horrible man an’ yet ye married me?” Domnhall asked. “Tae save yer sister from the same fate?”

“O’ course,” Billie said. “She’s still so young. She has all her life ahead o’ her tae find a man she loves.”

“An’ now?” Domnhall asked, his playful tone coming back as he tilted his head to press a kiss on Billie’s thighs over her dress. “Dae ye find me so terrible?”

Huffing out a gentle laugh, Billie shook her head. “Ye’re better than I thought.”

A devious smile appeared on Domnhall’s face as he nuzzled Billie’s thigh. His hands slipped under her dress to run up her calves, then her thighs, fingers digging into her plush flesh. Domnhall knew precisely what to do to drive her mad with lust, his hands massaging her thighs as he bit playfully at her leg over the fabric of her dress.

“Domnhall,” Billie said, already breathless, hips canting up in a vain effort to get him to do more. “Please.”

“What dae ye want?” Domnhall asked. “Dae ye want me mouth?”

Billie nodded wordlessly, letting her legs fall open a little wider. It wasn’t enough for Domnhall, though, and he hooked his arms under her knees to pull her to the edge of the chair, where she could spread them even wider.

“Cursed dresses,” Domnhall muttered under his breath as he pushed all the layers Billie was wearing up to her waist—or at least tried to, with little success. Billie laughed, but her laugh turned into a yelp when Domnhall suddenly pulled her up to her feet and began to tear at her dress, trying to get it off her as fast as possible. Every layer he removed, he tossed it carelessly on the floor, looking at it as though it had personally offended him.

By the time she was naked in front of him, they were both panting.

Domnhall dipped his head to scatter kisses on Billie’s chest. His lips brushed over her breast, his tongue circling her nipple in a way that stole her breath, arching into his mouth until he began to suck on the sensitive nub. His hand found her other nipple, pinching and rolling until Billie was moaning his name, every touch he gave her sending another wave of pleasure through her body.

Once again, Domnhall brought her to the chair, making her sit on the edge, her legs spread wide as he settled between them on his knees. Billie suddenly felt entirely exposed, all of her on display for him, while he was still fully clothed. It was a thrill to be laid out for him like this, to be under his hungry gaze, his eyes taking in every curve and valley of her body before finally settling on the opening between her legs.

“I wish tae have ye like this every day,” Domnhall said as he kissed his way up her thigh. His tongue darted out, licking the seam where her thigh met her torso, and Billie gasped as she tried to get him to touch her where she wanted it the most. Once again, though, Domnhall seemed more than happy to tease her, to bring her to the edge of frustration before giving her the pleasure she wanted.

“Touch yerself,” Domnhall said then, taking Billie by surprise. Was that not his job in this? She frowned at him, but Domnhall only took her hand and brought it between her legs, urging her to rub circles with her fingers over that sensitive spot she had so recently discovered. Embarrassment flooded Billie, her blush spreading down to her chest, but Domnhall was looking at her as if he wanted to devour her whole, as if he had never seen anything as beautiful.

She had done that to him, she thought. She had brought him to this state, all because she was pleasuring herself.

It emboldened her and she moaned, her free hand coming up to play with her nipple. It was the right thing to do, it seemed, as Domnhall groaned and reached down to palm himself through his clothes, trying to offer himself some relief.

“Put yer fingers inside ye,” he whispered. Billie drew her bottom lip between her teeth, hesitating for a moment before she trailed her fingers lower, finding her opening. “That’s it. Show me. Open up yerself fer me.”

Two fingers slid inside her with ease, slick gathering between them. It was very different from Domnhall’s thick fingers and she couldn’t quite reach as deep as he could, which only served to frustrate her even more. She couldn’t deny that it felt good, though, and soon, she was rocking back and forth on her fingers, lost in her pleasure.

With a growl, Domnhall descended upon her, running the flat of his tongue over her folds around her fingers. Billie keened, body arching off the chair when his tongue prodded along the opening, slipping inside her next to her fingers.

“I need tae be in ye now,” Domnhall said, sounding wrecked as he pulled back from her. His lips were slick, his hair in disarray, his pupils blown wide, and he looked as though he was ready to pounce, his control wearing thin. “I need to feel ye, please, mo ghraidh.”

For the first time, Billie realized how much power she held over Domnhall’s pleasure, like he did over hers. He wanted her like a starving man wanted nourishment, aching for her body.

She couldn’t deny him—she didn’t even want to. “Take me,” she said. “I’m yers.”

It was all Domnhall needed to grab her and manhandle her until she was kneeling on the chair, her back facing him. Billie grabbed the back of the chair, holding on as he gave one last swipe of his tongue over her folds, fingertips digging into her rear, before he stood. Still, he was dressed, and when Billie looked at him over her shoulder, she saw that he only freed his manhood, too impatient to get undressed before he entered her in one smooth thrust.

All at once, he was deep inside her, buried to the hilt, punching the air out of Billie’s lungs. One hand curled over her hip and the other over her shoulder, holding onto her as he set a punishing rhythm, his hips slapping against her rear with every movement.

It was hard and fast and just what Billie needed. The sounds of their coupling filled the room, but it wasn’t long before they were drowned out by Billie’s screams. Behind her, Domnhall grunted with every thrust, filling the deepest parts of her.

Then, he stopped. Billie made a questioning, complaining whine, pushing back onto him to take him deeper once more, but he only gave her a few shallow thrusts as his thumb traced her opening around him. The feathered touch was a stark contrast with the stretch inside her, and Billie could only kneel there and tremble, pleasure pooling low in her belly but finding no release.

“Dae ye feel how open ye are here?” Domnhall asked, so casually as if he were asking about the weather. “How well ye stretch around me? Next time, I’ll make sure I take ye in front o’ a mirror so ye can see how bonnie ye are here.”

As he spoke, he gathered some of her wetness and brought his hand to her mound once more, rubbing over her nub. He resumed his thrusts, this time going slowly but hard, grinding into her with such force that he kept rocking the chair.

But Billie couldn’t care less. She was too far gone, assaulted by so much pleasure that she could think about nothing else. She surrendered to the sensations, letting them all overwhelm her until she finally reached her climax with a scream of his name, her entire body shaking as she tightened around his length.

Domnhall pleasured her through it and when she finally collapsed, shoulders falling in as she still held onto the back of the chair, he grabbed her hips and chased his own zenith. Billie’s body was oversensitive, feeling every drag of flesh against flesh, but she wanted nothing more than to be filled by him, to stay in this bubble of joy for a little longer.

When Domnhall came, he curled over her body, holding onto her so tightly that she was certain it would leave marks. Billie was surprised to find how much she liked the idea of that. It would be like having him with her for a few days, no matter where he was.

Heaving, Domnhall pressed a kiss onto the middle of her back and then slowly, carefully disentangled himself from her. Then, he helped her off the chair, something Billie desperately needed. Only now could she tell how overworked her muscles were, kneeling in that position for so long, and she awkwardly hobbled down to the floor, where Domnhall held her gently.

“Yer perfect,” he whispered to her. Sitting down on the same chair, he pulled Billie in his lap and stroked her hair, his hands massaging the ache off her thighs. “Was it too much?”

Laughing, Billie shook her head. “Nay,” she promised him, turning her head to press a kiss to his lips. “This is helpin’, though.”

They fell into a comfortable silence as Domnhall continued to rub her thighs, but the more he touched her, the more she wanted him again. Soon, she was rocking in his lap, trying to get some friction, and Domnhall laughed teasingly in her ear.

“Again?” he asked.

“Please,” was all Billie said.

“Ach, but I’m nae a young lad anymore,” Domnhall said, and yet Billie could feel his interest on her backside, his length twitching against her. “Ye’ll be the death o’ me.”

“It’ll be a sweet death,” Billie said and kissed him.