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Then his hand is on mine and he brings both to my clit. “Like this? You need some attention here?”
I nod. Then say, “Yes,” between panting breaths. Then I say more, because I want more. I want to give him more. “I love your hands on me. Please, Torin. Make me come.”
“Oh yes, coat my cock, Abigail. Give me all your sweetness.”
He pinches one nipple, we rub my clit together, and within seconds, my orgasm crashes into me.
It takes my breath and I feel a little light-headed.
“Fuck.” Torin swears low, and harsh. Then he’s grasping my hips and hammering up into me. “Yes. Fuck yes, Abigail.”
Then he’s coming too, gripping me hard, filling me up, calling out my name. He lies still underneath me for a moment, then he sits up and presses his lips against my shoulder. He moves my hair to the side and kisses my tattoo. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, wraps his arms around me, tucks his face against my neck and then lies back, taking me with him. He rolls us both to the side, cuddling me, my back to his front.
And he just holds me like that.
For several long minutes.
Finally, when our bodies are cooled and our breathing is normal again, he gets up. “Be right back.” He kisses the top of my head and pads into the bathroom.
When he comes back into the room, he climbs up onto the bed behind me, and pulls me back into spoon with him.
“So…I’m a cowgirl after all.”
He kisses my shoulder. “I knew you would be. You’re a very good rider.”
I wiggle my ass against him. “And you like how I look in the boots.”
“And out of the boots.”
I grin. “I’m glad. But maybe being a cowgirl isn’t all about the boots.” I pause, then say softly, running my hand over the forearm he has wrapped around me. “Just like being a prince isn’t really about the crown.”
He pulls me in even tighter, like he’s hugging me. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and I just enjoy the feel of his hot breath on my shoulder.
Then he says, “You should bring your green rubber boots inside, and we’ll try them out. See if being a farmer is about the boots.”
I smile. I do love teasing with him. “Oh, is there a reverse farmer position?”
He puts his hot mouth against my neck and says gruffly, “Well, now there’s going to be.”
We cuddle for a few minutes, but then shower again, quickly, only able to play a little. We soap each other up and kiss a lot, but we really do have to get to our meeting with the king.
Torin, however, makes big promises for later. For the rest of our wedding night.
I’m married.
To a prince.
And I'm going to meet the king—my grandfather-in-law, I remind myself.
It’s all still a little crazy when I think about it too hard.
So instead, I concentrate on picking something to wear.
"Can I wear my boots now?" I ask Torin. “To the meeting.”
He looks up from where he's tying one of his dress shoes. "You can do whatever you want, Princess. No one tells you what to do here. Or anywhere, as far as I’m concerned.”
“But I’m only a princess in Cara.”
