Page 94 of Irish Reign

Till she loses her words, all but ‘Wow, wow.’”

I fight the curl of my lips. “I’m not sure about that last line. And the middle’s a little repetitious, after your first effort.”

“More personal, though.Yourinstead ofHis.”

“I noticed that,” I say gravely.

She asks, “Want to hear one more?”

“Of course.”

She stares directly in my eyes.

“After wife number one and your harsh rule,

I moved from our room to the house-pool.

My one need is blunt,

Yourcock inmycunt.

Right now. Make me put on my sub jewel.”

“House-pool?” I ask.

“Poetic license.”

“I sense a certain theme in your writing.”

“Thank God,” she says.

I step forward and settle my thumb against the seam of her lips. “You want me to add more rules to your life. Harsh ones.”

She bites me.

I pull her close, doing my best not to ruin her hair. Her lips open under mine, and she’s laughing as our tongues meet. She slips her hands under my jacket, easing her palms under my suspenders.

But I wasn’t joking about rules—not entirely. She’s my sub. I’m her Dom. I’m the one in charge, even here, even today, in these last few minutes before our wedding.

I force her arms to her sides and turn her around. Shoving her against the wooden table in the corner, I snap out an order: “Hands flat.”

She obeys so quickly I’m forced to smother a laugh. I cover the sound of my smirk by sliding down my zipper. “Feet spread,” I tell her, nudging her ankles apart.

Her fingers stiffen on the table. She starts to say something, but she stops. From the set of her jaw it was an objection, a clarification, a rule she wanted to superimpose over mine. But she swallowed it, remembering that I’m in charge.

She deserves a reward for that.

It takes both hands for me to gather her skirt, but I can hold the yards of fabric against her back with just one fist. Looking down between us, I realize she isn’t wearing panties.

“In a church?” I ask, running my palm over her bare arse. “Aren’t you afraid of attracting lightning bolts?”

She trembles as I slip a finger inside her. She’s slick. Soaked. Looking over her shoulder at me, she says, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

I add another finger, and she gasps. “What do you want,piscín?”

She answers without hesitation. “Your cock in my cunt.”

“Such a mouth on you,” I tease, giving her another finger.

---