Then, in the dim moonlight filtering past a curtain, he noted the bathtub and curtained bedding, and realized he was in a bed and comfortable.
A weight on his arm shifted, and he rolled into the figure next to him.
Not just any bed.Adaira’sbed.
He had made it back.
So ithadn’tbeen a dream.
Returned, married the woman before anyone might challenge his reappearance, and was now in bed with the woman of his dreams.
Dreams that had kept him focused and gave him the will to escape.
Like him, Adaira had lost weight. The past months had tried her as they had tried him. Her plump backside had thinned, and her breasts, while still more of a feast than any man might require, did not fill her bodice as before. Shadows filled her – her cheeks, her ribs, under her eyes – as they filled him.
That knowledge pained him. That she had suffered under Kelso’s actions. Her suffering angered him more than his own imprisonment did.
He’d have Kelso’s blood on his sword before long for the despair he caused her.
As his mind awoke with these thoughts, so did the rest of his body. His hand slid over her shoulder, sweeping several smooth blonde tresses away from her neck. Caressing the length of her arm, his lips followed his fingers to her neck, kissing her soft, musky skin. His cock hardened as his hand continued its explorations, found her bare breast, and cupped it.
Her nipple peaked under his hand. He groaned and brushed it gently with his thumb.
She stirred, wiggling her backside deeper into the curve of his hips and burgeoning cock.
Fed and napped, he had the energy to attend his wife (hiswife!) in the way she deserved.
A real wedding night.
Not against a tree in the rainy woods.
She made a purring sound and wiggled again.
“Och, lass. Careful or ye may find yourself tossed on your back and my thighs between yours,” he whispered into her hair.
“Promise?” she asked and wiggled again.
Her teasing tone sent a wave of desperate desire washing over him, and his engorged cock quivered, brushing her arse with its eager tip.
In one movement, he rolled her to her back and loomed over her. He trapped one of her wrists against the bed and with his other hand, he traced the lines of her jaw, dipping his fingertips down to the valley between her breasts, each one two handfuls of pleasure.
His pleasure.
She was now his and his alone.
And she was here, underneath him, and not a figment of a dream.
“Promise,” he answered and shifted his thighs.
Her fingers slid behind his neck and entwined in his hair. The feel of her caress sent a thrill down his back and through his manhood.
Sawny thrust his hips forward, sheathing himself deep inside Adaira. She gasped and arched upward, pushing her hips closer until he was seated to the hilt. He paused briefly, taking in the moment of being joined with Adaira, being one with her again.
“Sawny,” she breathed, and he began his movements.
His mind was a fogged fury. Their moment in the woods had been too quick, and he longed to draw this union out, enjoying each stroke, relishing the squeeze and pull of Adaira’s body on his cock. He needed to draw it out and stay inside her as long as he could.
He never wanted to leave her, to be distanced or separated from her.
