Sensing what he was doing, Marissa lifted herself, grabbed the hem of her dressing gown, and tugged it over her head. Hernipples pebbled the moment they met the cool air in their room, a breeze floating in through the open window opposite their bed.
By the time she had thrown her dressing gown across the room, Arthur had already discarded his kilt. She heard it hit the floor with a thud as he tossed it.
They collided once more, their bodies melding together perfectly. He pressed into her, and she could feel him hard and wanting at the apex of her thighs.
Marissa didn’t understand this need within her. Up until now, she’d been perfectly content with the way they had explored each other’s bodies. She’d loved the sensations that he’d been able to wrench out of her with his fingers and his tongue. And she’d certainly loved the way he had come undone when she had taken him into her mouth.
But suddenly, thinking of any of those things was no longer enough. She needed more of him, needed to feel him inside her in a way that she hadn’t yet.
Arthur moved, his knees pushing against her thighs to open them wider. She could feel the tip of his manhood probing her entrance, and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was what she wanted.
No. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was what sheneeded.
“Please,” Marissa begged, her voice thick with need.
Arthur’s face contorted with desire, but he did not say anything else as his hips moved forward and he pushed into her.
There was a sharp, delicious pain, but it only lasted for a second as she felt him filling her. Inch after delicious inch he moved, so slowly that she thought she might burn from the inside with her need for more.
His hips stilled when he was fully seated inside her, and she stared up at him. Arthur’s grey eyes were shining as he looked down at her.
“Tell me what ye want,” he growled.
“I want ye to claim me,” she murmured. “I’m beggin’ ye to make me yers in all the ways that matter.”
That was all the permission Arthur needed before unleashing himself on her. He pulled his hips back, withdrawing almost entirely before driving himself back into her.
Marissa’s lips parted on a gasp, but then he bucked his hips again, stealing her breath entirely.
“Arthur!” she cried out, his name falling from her lips like a prayer.
Again and again, he pounded into her, winding her so tight she felt as if she was seconds from shattering.
Marissa had thought that she felt pleasure before. She’d been certain that there was nothing better than how he’d made her feel when he’d tasted her and explored her with his hands. But now she realized how much of a fool she had been.
Those moments had been nothing compared to this. Her core clenched as pressure began building low in her belly.
It coiled inside her, wrapping around itself tighter and tighter as it begged to be released. With each thrust of Arthur’s hips, it dragged her further and further into an abyss of pleasure, waiting for its moment to claim her entirely.
“Marissa,” Arthur growled, throwing back his head. “Marissa, Christ!”
And that was her undoing. Her name on his lips, the way he was coming undone at the squeeze of her thighs—it all pushed her over the edge.
She called out, but whether it was God’s name or Arthur’s, she did not know. All she knew was that she had become nothing more than a ball of pleasure.
Wave after wave of it crashed over her, her body wracked with spasms as each wave washed over her anew. Arthur’s thrusts became erratic, his breath coming in pants and gasps.
And then his hips stilled, and he cried out her name again. Something warm spilled deep inside her, filling her from the inside out as her body continued to shake.
She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t do anything but allow herself to be lost entirely in the waves washing over her.
Slowly, so very slowly, they began to subside. Her breath, which just a second before had been nothing more than soft, laborious pants, evened out.
Her heart, which had been beating so loudly that the sound of it had filled her ears, began to slow down. And her senses began to register everything else around her.
Arthur had collapsed on top of her, his head buried in her neck as he remained sheathed inside her. Their bodies were slick with sweat, and his breath tickled as it danced over her humid skin.
“I love ye,” he murmured, his lips tickling her as they moved.
