He lowered his head, his lips pressing to the scar with a tenderness that made her throat tighten. Then lower, to the next, and the next, his breath hot against her skin, his tongue darting out to taste her.
She gasped when his teeth grazed her nipple, the sensation sharp, electric, her back arching as he took the peak into his mouth, sucking hard enough to make her whimper.
“Anthony.”
“Aye, love?” His voice was a dark murmur against her skin, his hands sliding down to grip her thighs, lifting her effortlessly.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, the heat of him searing through the thin linen of her shift, his manhood a thick, insistent pressure against her core.
He carried her to the bed like she weighed nothing, laying her down among the furs before following, his body covering hers, his weight a delicious pressure that pinned her in place.
She reached for the hem of his tunic, tugging it up, her fingers skimming over the ridged planes of his abdomen, the scars there. Old wounds, some still angry and red, others faded to silver.
He let her explore, his breath coming faster as her nails scraped over his hips, his thighs, before she found the fastenings of his trews. The leather was stiff beneath her fingers, but she worked it loose, her pulse hammering in her ears as she freed his cock.
It was thick, heavy in her hand, the skin hot and smooth over the rigid length. A bead of moisture welled at the tip, and she smeared it with her thumb, watching as his nostrils flared, his hips jerking into her touch.
“Christ, Catriona.” His voice was rough, strained, his hand covering hers, guiding her strokes. “If ye keep that up, this'll be over before it begins.”
She smirked, stroking him again, slower this time, her thumb swirling over the slick crown.
His growl was answer enough. He caught her wrist, pinning it above her head as he leaned down, his mouth crashing onto hers again, his kiss bruising, possessive. His free hand slid up her thigh, pushing the fabric of her shift aside, his fingers finding the wet heat between her legs.
She was soaked, her arousal slick on his skin as he teased her entrance, circling, but not entering.
“Please,” she gasped against his lips, her hips lifting, seeking more.
“Please what?” His fingers slid higher, brushing her clit, the touch feather-light, maddening. “Use yer words, love.”
She whimpered, her nails digging into his shoulder. “Keep goin'.”
His breath hitched.
For a moment, he stilled, his forehead resting against hers, his eyes searching hers in the dim light.
Then, with a groan, he shifted, his manhood nudging against her, the broad head parting her folds. He didn't push in, not yet. Instead, he rocked his hips, the thick length sliding through her wetness, coating himself in her, the friction making her toes curl.
“Ye're sure?” His voice was a rasp, his control fraying.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels digging into the backs of his thighs, pulling him closer. “Aye.”
He entered her in one slow, relentless thrust, his manhood stretching her, filling her so completely she saw stars. She cried out, her back arching, her body struggling to adjust to the invasion.
Anthony froze, his jaw clenched, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to leave marks.
“Feck, ye're beautiful,” he groaned, his voice strained. “Too good. Too feckin' good.”
She panted, her nails raking down his back, her body clenching around him. The sting of being stretched burned, but it was a good pain, a claiming. She rocked her hips experimentally, and he hissed, his grip tightening.
“Move,” she demanded, her voice breathless.
He didn't need to be told twice.
His first withdrawal was slow, deliberate, his manhood dragging against her inner walls before he thrust back in, deeper this time, his hips rolling in a rhythm that made her gasp.
She met him stroke for stroke, her body moving with his, her breath coming in sharp, needy pants as the friction built, the wet sounds of their bodies filling the room.
“Harder,” she begged, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him down for a kiss. His tongue swept into her mouth, mimicking the thrusts of his manhood, and she moaned into him, her body tightening, coiling like a bowstring.
