Page 61 of Plaid Attitude
When he slid into her weeping core, they both sighed.
She was complete, with him.
This was so perfect, so natural, these feelings. Thisfullness. This wasDoughall. She’d known him for years, she trusted him…and now he was her husband. He washers.
Aye, he belonged here, in her bed. And she belonged in his arms.
They belonged together.
Coira planted her heels and lifted her arse slightly, so his thrusts were at a slightly different angle, one which hit the spot that drove her wild. Doughall’s expression took on that fierce look of concentration she was coming to love as much as she loved him, and as the pleasure built inside of her, she felt something else bubbling in her chest.
Since she’d opened her heart to loving Doughall, the anger that had become a constant companion was lessened. Coira would never be as carefree as, say, Leanna, but she was learning. And now, this sensation crawling up from her stomach felt suspiciously like laughter.
Each of his thrusts hit the point inside her that made her itchy and desperate, and she strained upward, desperate for release, even as her chest expanded with an invisible bubble. His plunges also grew more urgent, and Doughall’s breath was exploding from him in the little gasps which told her he was getting close as well.
Suddenly, he stiffened, made a desperate little sound in the back of his throat, and she felt a warmth spill against her womb.
‘Twas like his love, spilling out of him, into her.
The thought was so silly, so sentimental, she burst into laughter.
To her surprise, both sensations combined triggered her orgasm, and as her laughter swelled, she clutched at him, her entire body pulling him closer, closer.
He was a part of her, now and always.
As her pleasure faded to a vague sort of glow and her chuckles subsided, Doughall lifted his head. Thank the Virgin, he was smiling.
“What was that about, hmm?”
She pretended innocence as her legs grew loose and she lost her hold on him.
His grin growing, he bent to kiss her nose. Then he rolled to one side, sliding from her, and pulled her up against him. “When a man is attempting to pleasure his wife, he doesnae want her tolaughat him.”
“I wasnae laughingatye.” With a sort of whole-body sigh, she rested her cheek on his shoulder. “I was just…” How to explain it? “Ye brought me pleasure, dinnae fash.”
Chuckling, he brushed a kiss against her head. “Och, I ken that. Ifeltthat. If ye werenae laughing at my efforts, ye cannae claim to be laughingwithme, either.”
“I was just laughing.” With a hum, she snuggled closer. “I was happy. Ye made me happy.”
His arm tightened around her. “I’m glad. I’ll endeavor to make ye laugh again. I like the sound of it.”
“Even while we’re making love?”
He paused, then kissed her again. “Especiallywhen we’re making love, wife.”
From under the bed there came a quiet sort of snuffling noise, and Coira shifted against him.
“Sorry. I suppose we’re doomed to forever have an audience.”
“Och, Hagrid’sstillunder there? I thought Bessetta rescued us from him?” he teased. “I’m terrified of waking up in the morning and stepping on the wee beastie.”
She winced for him. “I hadnae thought of that, nowI’mterrified of such a thing, as well.”
“Well, I cannae have my wife scared. I’ll have a talk with my—withourdaughter.”
Coira lifted her head so she could kiss his jaw. “Dinnae fash,Ispoke with our daughter already. She lured the hedgehog out from under the bed, cuddled him, gave him treats, and settled him into his new room.”
Her husband frowned, even as his arms came around her. “So what’s under our bed?”
