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“Put your leg over mine,” he heard himself rumble at her. He had almost forgotten he was not a reasonable man. She had wanted him, and she had gotten him. Whether she would be happy with her purchase, over the next gods alone knew how many years, was another matter.

No, that wasn’t right, he thought with a frown. They would be largely apart, he reminded himself. He would go north more often than not, while she remained mostly here in Caer Lyoness.

“Like this?” Aimee asked uncertainly as she swung her leg over his, and there was no hiding his body’s reaction to her soft, sweet flesh pressed against the hard muscle of his thigh. He could not bite back his harsh groan, and she reared back a little in alarm.

“Like that,” he told her raspily. “Exactly like that.”

She nodded and resettled back against him, her face now aflame. “We did not – that is, last time –”

“Last time was for duty,” he puffed out. “It was never going to be good for you.” Or me, he thought grimly, not after all that time. It had to have been nearly six years.

“I knew that much,” she admitted on an outward breath. “Old Janet told me.”

Who? Maybe if he kept her talking, she would not get so nervous this time. “Who is Old Janet?” he asked huskily as he slid his hand down her short, smooth back to her ample rear. Gods. He squeezed his eyes shut a moment to appreciate the feel of her soft backside.

“Oh, um – an old servant of my father’s,” she muttered breathlessly.

“Another servant?” he managed to utter, cracking his eye open.

Her lips twisted wryly. “He has a houseful, my lord,” she whispered. He focused on those pretty lips, and the direction of his thoughts surprised him. It occurred to him that he would not mind a taste of them. “Up,” he urged her. “Come up over me,” he rasped, urging her off the mattress to sit on top of his thigh instead.

She moved obligingly enough, though she made a strangled noise in her throat as she straddled his leg. Without the sheet covering her, her breasts jostled for his attention, scattering all thoughts of kisses completely. Her nipples were dark, like ripe little berries, her breasts high and full. He wanted to feel the weight of them in his hands, against his chest.

“Where shall I put my hands?” she asked, sounding flustered. He hardly knew where he wanted to put his own, he was so spoilt for choice.

Instead of answering her, he caught her wrists and drew them down to his chest. “Here,” he practically growled at her. He felt her fingers dig into his chest hair and groaned again.

“I am not too heavy?” she asked in alarm.

He ignored this question as it was patently ridiculous. He was about twice the size of her. “Bear down,” he growled. “I want you to ride my leg. I want to feel it.” Aimee gazed down at him, looking perplexed. “Here,” he said, his voice so gravelly he was practically growling at her. He ran his thumb through the woman’s hair between her legs. “I want to feel your silky pelt rub against me.”

For a moment, she just stared at him with an almost comical expression of confusion. “My‍ – ‍?” Words seemed to fail her.

“You heard me, Aimee. That’s what I want.”

Her gaze flew to meet his, and for a moment, he did not understand the expression in her eyes. Then he realized that must have been the first time he had used her given name. Something passed between them, he hardly knew what, and then she gave a little sob and rocked forward on his thigh.

It felt so good he had to stop himself from thrusting up. “Again,” he bit out. She dropped her gaze and bit her lip, concentrating on moving on him the way he liked. “Eyes on me,” he insisted tersely as she did her best to comply with his demands.

“Like this?” she asked breathily. He nodded, narrowing his eyes as he watched her curvy body undulate as she strove to please him. “This feels nice?” she asked.

“Yes,” he rasped, but it wasn’t enough though. Not by a long shot. He closed his eyes to savor the feel of her and that was when he felt it. “Stop,” he said hoarsely. It wasn’t just him feeling good. Aimee was growing wet. For him.

Aimee lifted her head. Her breathing was ragged and her eyes dark. “Stop?” she faltered.

He nodded. “Move back.” She blinked but shuffled down his leg obligingly. He reached down and swiped his fingers along his thigh before bringing them to his mouth. When his gaze snared hers, she caught her breath.

“What are you doing?” she asked in a strangled tone.

“Tasting you.”

Aimee’s mouth fell open, but she didn’t utter a single word, just stared at him with her beautiful dark eyes, her breath coming fast. What he really wanted to do was haul her over his cock and thrust right into the heart of her. He wasn’t quite that selfish though. She was by no means ready for that kind of treatment.

Instead, he took a deep breath in and out and locked eyes with her. “How about you lie on your back?” he suggested. When she nodded, he rolled her carefully onto her back and loomed over her. It occurred to him that one hint of trepidation or fear from her at this point would be like being doused by a bucket of ice-cold water.

Lucky for him, his sweet little bride was inexplicably eager for his attentions, her hands reaching for him before she suddenly froze. “Is this … permitted?” she asked. He stared at her a moment. “For me to touch you, I mean. Last time, I gained the impression …” she broke off her words.

“You can touch me if you want,” he replied and braced himself. Her touch was curious and caressing. She slid her hands along the muscles in his arms and made a murmur of appreciation.