He shakes his head. “You’ve got an hour, sweetheart. Don’t get your knickers in a bunch.”
I grunt under my breath.
“Mam says she’s sending the biscuits up shortly,” he says. “You need help getting to the shower?”
“I think I can manage,” I tell him, but not surprisingly, he doesn’t take my answer. He helps me into the shower and joins me.
We lather each other up. I love his powerful, muscled body, and revel in the way the warm water and soap help me glide my hands over his muscled shoulders, powerful back, the strong, chiseled planes of his body. When I reach his hips, I take his cock in my hand and stroke, watching as his eyes go half-lidded and he releases a low, guttural moan I feel right between my legs.
I love when he touches me, but I love when he gives me this control as well. I feel powerful, my own form of possession overtaking me as I stroke the length of his swollen cock. He braces himself on the shower wall and groans.
“God, that feels good.”
“I’m glad,” I whisper. The warm water cascades down the back of my head and my back. I brace myself by holding onto his shoulder, while with my other hand I continue to pump my fist with his cock, until he shudders and groans, throws his head back and comes. The pounding of the water drowns his groans as I stroke him to completion, the water washing me clean as quickly as I’m marked.
“Good girl,” he whispers, pulling me soaking wet to him. “Jesus, that felt good.”
“It did,” I agree.
He holds me and kisses me, our steaming hot, soaked bodies melding together. “I haven’t even done anything to you yet.”
“But you have,” I say with a smile. “Just not this very moment.”
“Is that right?” He cups my jaw and my heart flutters when he lowers his mouth to mine. I lose myself in the kiss, pressing my body up to his.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Get out of the shower,” he whispers back. “Towel off. No clothes. Lie on the bed and wait for me, your knees parted. I want you to spread your legs for me. I want to taste you. I want to watch you come on my tongue.”
“Right now?” I manage to whisper.
He grips my arse and cups it firmly. “Now.”
I do what he says, step out of the shower and towel off, then go to the bed and lie on my back. I close my eyes, tired but eager, my body vibrating with need and arousal. He joins me a moment later, dressed in a pair of boxers.
“Good girl,” he says. “Just like that.”
He kneels before me, lifts my legs, and bends his head to kiss the fullness of my inner thigh. I’m longing for pleasure and release, to feel him take my body to orgasm once more. I shiver, holding my breath until I feel his mouth where I’m desperate to feel him.
I’m already aroused, already pulsing with need. With slow, masterful strokes of his tongue, he quickly takes me to the edge of climax. He grips my legs and suckles my clit, releases me and presses his warm, wet tongue upward. My head tips back, and I come.
He works me to completion, drawing out the last spasms of orgasm until I nearly collapse.
He stands, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and grins at me.
“Get dressed, sweetheart. My men will be up here in…” he glances at his phone. “About one minute.”Chapter 15CormacAileen sits up in bed, grabbing at sheets, her cheeks still flushed pink from climaxing. Her sweet, seductive taste still lingers on my lips, as I pull clothes on and she scrambles for her own.
“Why didn’t you tell me what time it was?”
“Just did.”
“But I’m not… I’m not ready,” she stammers. “They’re going to take one look at me and think ‘sex-crazed.’”
I snort. “What?”
“I’m all pink and flushed and my heart’s still racing, and I—”
I reach over to her, yank her to my chest, and press my finger to her lips. “None of them are going to know that I just made you come. And if anyone does, they’ll know I’m only doing my duty as your husband.”
She blinks. “Your duty?”
“Aye, lass. You belong to me. As mine, you ought to have your needs met. That is one of them.”
“Right,” she says, pinking at the cheeks again. She swallows hard. “I s’pose.”
I tug a lock of her blonde hair and kiss her forehead. “Go. Get dressed.” I pull out a light cotton dress, remembering what mam said about tight things around her belly.
“Alright, alright,” she says.
“Wear this.”
She pauses and raises her brows to me. “You’re picking out my clothes?”
“What does it look like?”
She frowns, but a knock on the door has her squealing and running for the bathroom to get changed.