Page 66 of The Beast's Bride
He did, only this kiss was fierce, consuming. Rhona responded, the last of her restraint falling away as his mouth ravaged hers. Her hands slid up his chainmail vest to his neck. She wanted to feel his bare skin, but layers of clothing prevented her.
With a groan Taran reached down, took hold of her skirts, and pulled them up around her waist. The warm night air brushed against Rhona’s naked skin, and excitement pulsed through her. A melting sensation caught fire in the cradle of her hips. She reached down, her fingers fumbling with the laces of his braies.
When she released his shaft from the layers of plaid, her breathing caught. She wrapped her fingers around the thick column. The skin was smooth over the hard heat beneath. Her mouth went dry with need; she’d wanted this ever since their wedding night, had longed to be with him again, to touch him.
Taran gasped her name and kneed her thighs apart. Then his hands slid under her, grasping her buttocks as he lifted her to meet him.
Rhona guided him inside.
The feel of him penetrating her, the stretching, aching pleasure of it made her close her eyes, her head rolling back against the rough stone wall. He was big, but she took him in to the root, her legs wrapping around his hips to draw him in tighter still.
They stayed like that for a long moment, him buried deep inside her, and then Taran leaned into Rhona, trailing kisses up the column of her neck. She trembled under his touch, before she offered her mouth to him once more.
He kissed her with languid sensuality this time, his tongue plunging into her mouth, before he started to move his hips to mirror the action.
The slick feel of their bodies moving together, the throbbing, building heat, was too much for Rhona. Her body started to quiver like a bowstring. Pleasure rippled out from her womb, and she cried out against his mouth.
Taran drove into her, deep and hard now, and Rhona clung to him, one hand digging into his scalp as she kissed him with abandon. The pleasure of it was almost too intense, and yet she would not prevent him. If her heart stopped from this, she would die willingly. Another spasm of throbbing, spiraling pleasure caught her, and she cried out, the sound muffled against his mouth.
Rhona clung to Taran, riding the waves that crashed through her. And then, his body grew rigid. Taran tore his mouth from hers, arched back, and let out a roar that shook the room to its foundations.
Taran lay on his side, staring down at the naked body of his wife spread out beside him. A single lantern burned on the mantelpiece on the opposite side of the chamber. It cast a soft light across the room, kissing every curve of Rhona’s long-limbed, lush body.
He could have gazed upon her all night long. If only he didn’t have to ride off to battle tomorrow. If only time could stand still.
Rhona’s eyes were closed as she dozed. After their coupling in the stables, they’d returned to their tower chamber where Taran had torn off both their clothing, carried her over to the bed, and taken her once more. Their bodies were now slick with sweat in the aftermath. The shutters to the room were open, for the night was still and the air sultry.
Taran’s gaze trailed up Rhona’s body, taking in the auburn nest of curls between her thighs, the cradle of her hips, the dip of her waist, and the swell of her full, pink-tipped breasts. But when his gaze reached her face, it stayed there. Her dark-red hair fanned out across the pillow; she’d never looked so beautiful to him. Her lips, bee-stung from their kisses, were slightly parted, her cheeks flushed.
Gently, he reached out and traced her bottom lip with his fingertip.
She’d had no idea how much he’d wanted to kiss her, or how he’d worried she’d recoil in disgust. He’d barely been able to admit his fears to himself, yet with each passing day since their handfasting, they had grown.
But all his fears had been for nothing.
Rhona had given him her heart.
Feeling his caress, Rhona’s eyelashes fluttered. She awoke, regarding him sleepily through half-closed lids. “Haven’t ye slept?” she murmured.
“I dozed for a bit,” he replied, “but then I realized I’d prefer to watch ye sleep.”
Her mouth curved at this admission. “I hope I don’t snore.”
He huffed. “No … but ye know I do.”
Rhona held his gaze, her eyes darkening as she reached up and stroked his cheek with the back of her hand. “This has been the best night of my life,” she murmured.
He captured her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “And mine,” he admitted quietly. “This feels like a dream. I fear that any moment I’ll wake and ye will be another man’s wife.”
“Ye are not dreaming,” she replied, her eyes shining. Her hand trailed down his chest to his belly. “This is real.” Her fingers trailed lower still to where his shaft had already grown hard for her. She stroked him, her expression turning wicked. “Shall we see exactly how real?”
He groaned at her touch, closing his eyes and losing himself in the sensation. Then he sank down next to her and rolled over onto his back. A heartbeat later he pulled her astride him.
Rhona laughed. “What are ye doing?”
“Just making sure ye are real, lass.”
He lowered Rhona down onto him, and her laughter choked off. He opened his eyes to see her perched above him. His breathing caught at her loveliness: her breasts thrust forward, her auburn hair spilled over her shoulders.
