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Tarley sucked in a breath. “Oh,” she said and tilted her hips toward him. “That’s–”

He looked up at her, his mouth still indulging, his hands sliding up her thighs, holding her legs open and pressing her hips in place. He stopped a moment and said, “Don’t move.” Another order, and she loved it. “Or there will be consequences.”

“So bossy,” Tarley gasped, the words stolen, when Lachlan’s tongue slid through her essence until he settled on her clit, focusing his attention there, then driving down and inside her. She gasped but tried not to move, tried not to buck her hips against his mouth, panting as he drew her closer to a precipice of release. Slow and sensual, his tongue swirled and savored, relishing her, until she was crying, “Please. Please. Lach.” Finally, unable to contain herself, she grabbed his head.

He stopped.

Tarley cried out, her pleasure drawn to the point of a sharp edge and held aloft there. “No!” She moved her hips, looking for that satisfying friction.

“I said there’d be consequences.” He trailed kisses up over her pelvis, stopping to nip at her hip bones, before working his way up her stomach, his hands roaming over her breasts, teasing her nipples with his fingers, until one was his mouth. “Didn’t you believe me?” he asked around it and sucked.

“Please, Lach,” she said, rolling her hips against him, seeking completion, her body connecting with his erection.

He groaned. “Gods, Tarley. You’re making this difficult.” He drew the opposite nipple into his mouth and added pressure with his teeth.

Tarley cried out again, a sharp whip zinging through straight to her aching core. She arched her back into him. “Yes.”

Lachlan rose over her, his hands on either side of her head. She wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him toward her with her heels, though he resisted and smiled, but it seemed to be an afterthought, because his eyes, filled with a dark hunger Tarley recognized, raked over her.

“I wish you could see what I see,” he said. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“I want you in me,” she bit out, gasping, needing, grabbing his hips.

He leaned down and kissed her, grinding against her hips, then pulled away, pressing his forehead to hers to release a heavy breath himself. “I want this to fucking last,” he said, “but fuck, Tarley.” He rolled his hips again, until he reached between them, took himself in hand, and slid the head of his cock through her slick center to meet her clit. “You fucking undo me.”

She gasped. “Yes,” she breathed. “There.” She tipped her hips toward the sensation.

“Come for me,” he said. “Come, my queen.”

And with a few more strokes, she tensed, her gasps and cries unrestrained as her seams came apart, chanting incoherent worship of the man who’d become her husband. Her body arched toward him, and Lachlan pushed into her, deep and unmoving, his body rigid and controlled as every part of her clenched around him. She melted, her body relaxing as her release ebbed, and when she opened her eyes, Lachlan was watching her, his face filled with awe.

“Watching you come will be the single most amazing image I carry with me.” He moved his hips, pulling out a fraction before thrusting back in. “You feel so good.” He grunted the words, repeating the movement before grinding back into her. “Fuck–” He repeated the motion, over and over, a controlled rhythm.

Mine.

Mine.

Mine.

Tarley rode through the pleasure, satiated, until suddenly her body wrapped around the desire inside her once more, a silky ribbon tightening as her body responded to Lachlan’s penetration. Her panting and cries grew in volume, mingling with his heavy sighs and grunts that went straight into her head and heart. “Yes.” She encouraged him. “You feel so good inside me,” she said. “Please, Lachlan.”

“Are you?” he asked. “Again?”

“Close,” she said. “Oh-”

“Tarley.” He ground his hips.

She tilted her hips toward him and sought a rhythm to add more friction to his. Things between them sped up, and his rhythm grew haphazard as Tarley begged. “Oh. Yes. Please. Please, Lachlan.” He wrapped his arms under her legs, grinding into her with a gorgeous unrestrained fervor.

Suddenly, she was unraveling with her second orgasm, crying out, louder this time, as it rocked through her whole body, and she bucked wildly against him. Lachlan drove one, two, three more times into her, growled out her name as if it contained a magic spell to keep him contained, and repeatedly grunted “mine” on each panted breath as he became undone with his own orgasm after hers. When it passed, he melted against her body, chest to chest, and she swallowed him with her arms, his weight welcome.

A few breaths later, Lachlan rolled to his side, drawing her against him so they faced one another, and though his eyes were closed, he was smiling.

Tarley skimmed his smiling face with her fingertips. “Well,” she said, pushing a sweaty lock of hair from his forehead, “I think we might be pretty good at that.”

One of his eyes opened. “Just pretty good?”

She smiled. “Oh. Did that damage your pride?”