Page 20 of Marry the Highland Villain (Breaking the Highland Rules #1)

CHAPTER 20

Conall watched Brigid dance with her sisters and wondered how long he could stand and simply watch. She moved smoothly and gracefully, her full skirts flaring around her hips as she joined the clansmen and women dancing the reel. She glowed with joy and exhilaration, and the sight made his blood heat as if every drop had turned to sparks to dart through his veins.

His groin ached, his manhood straining against his kilt, and he dared not stand, or everyone would see exactly how his bride’s appearance affected him. And yet he wanted nothing more than to rise, stride across the floor, sweep her into his arms, and carry her back to his rooms.

Only two days ago, he had told her they would wait until after their wedding. Now, he wanted nothing more than to show her everything she had asked for that night, and more. He wanted to lay her down, remove her lovely dress, and show her every kind of pleasure she could imagine, until both of them were spent and sated, lying on the soft linens of his bed.

The image of Brigid, naked and waiting for him, made him bite his lip hard.

He wanted her. The heat of his desire was almost overwhelming.

Brigid spun through the final steps of the reel, her face flushed with delight and laughter, her eyes glittering like starlight trapped in flawless gems.

It was too much. He didn’t want to wait any longer. And why should he? She was now his wife, and this was their wedding night.

Conall rose and stalked around the table, altering his posture to hide his arousal as well as he could. He moved to the dance floor and met Brigid as she started back toward the table.

“Come with me,” he said, taking her urgently by the hand.

Brigid blinked in confusion. “But the feast isnae over yet, and dessert hasnae been served,” she protested, her eyes darting to the table where she knew cake and other sweetmeats would be served later in the evening.

“The servants can bring some later for both of us. For now, though…”

Conall took her by the shoulders and pulled her flush against him, and watched her eyes widen as she felt his need, swollen and erect against her belly. He cupped her chin and kissed her, lingering for a moment on the taste of wine and fresh bread, then broke the kiss abruptly.

“Come with me,” he murmured into her ear, his voice raw with his aching desire.

“Aye…” Brigid nodded.

She looked dazed, flushed with more than the exertion of dancing now.

“Aye,” she said again, sounding almost as if she’d lost the power of speech.

Conall smirked and scooped her up into his arms, then carried her off the dance floor without another word. He heard laughter behind him, and Brigid giggled in his arms as she waved to her sisters. Then, the door to the Great Hall shut behind them, leaving them in near silence.

His erection made it difficult to walk, but having Brigid in his arms spurred him onward. Conall carried her to his quarters, through the front chamber, and into his bedroom, to lay her on the bed.

Brigid blinked at him, a shy expression on her face. “Ye…”

Conall bent and kissed her, one hand braced against the bed while the other undid his belt and let his sword and daggers clatter to the floor.

“’Tis a beautiful gown, to be sure,” he said. “But I’ve spent every moment since I saw ye comin’ toward me at the altar wishin’ I could tak’ it off ye.”

He reached out to remove her sash, then loosened her wide, woven belt and the laces of her sleeves and bodice. Then, he paused to undo his shirt ties and send his boots after his belt. His shirt and sash he laid on the side table.

Brigid reached for her dress to remove it, but Conall stopped her with a touch of his hands. “Nay, lass. I said I’ve been waitin’ to take the dress off ye, nae to watch ye do it for me.”

Clad in only his kilt, he slid onto the bed beside her and cupped her face in his hands, pulling her in for a long, lingering kiss, letting his tongue explore the warmth of her mouth, taste the sweetness of wine and the hearty flavors of their wedding feast. Her mouth was soft and welcoming against his, her lips parting easily to give him access.

Brigid moaned softly as he stroked his hand across her still-covered breasts, then down her core to cup her through the fabric.

Conall swallowed hard at the warmth he found there, the easy way she parted her thighs under his touch. “Och…”

He slid his hand lower, kissing across her jaw and down the column of her throat and collarbone as he sought for the hem of her skirt and tugged it up until he could touch the bare skin of her leg.

He broke the kiss then, so he could place both hands on her lower legs and slowly slide them up, pushing her dress out of the way as he mapped the contours of her shapely ankles, her fleshy calves, and her knees, with their small dimples just below the joint. Then, he slid his hands further upward, caressing her soft, smooth thighs.

Brigid made a soft noise like a whimper, her thighs shifting and parting slightly under his touch.

“Conall…” she murmured, her voice low and husky with need.

“Patience, lass. I’ll nae be rushin’ this.”

He wouldn’t rush their first time together, desperate though he was for her. He wanted to give her as much pleasure as possible, so she would welcome future encounters. He knew from Emily—she’d taken him aside to give him fair warning before the ceremony—that a woman’s first time was often uncomfortable, and that it was important for a proper spouse to see that his partner enjoyed the experience enough that pleasure overwhelmed any discomfort in their memory afterward.

He slid his hands up the outer sides of her thighs, then down to cup the soft globes of her buttocks. He kneaded them softly, and Brigid made a soft, breathy sound.

He wanted to see her. All of her. Conall slid his hands further up, across her soft belly, then up her sides, feeling the way she breathed, almost panting at his touch. Then further still, until his thumbs were caressing her breasts, before he finally slid the dress along her raised arms and over her head.

The dress and underdress followed his shirt and sash, and Brigid lay bare before him—his own goddess of fertility, poetry, protection, and healing.

His goddess, who opened her arms and beckoned him closer.

Conall bent to kiss her again.

Conall had scarcely touched her, and already Brigid felt her blood pounding with desire. She could feel the path his hands had traced up her body, trails of warmth, like being caressed by a gentle fire, and then the contrasting coolness of the air as he drew her dress away and tossed it to the side.

She shivered, the warmth of his touch eliciting an answering heat of desire within her as his hands stroked every inch of her—all except the place she wanted him to touch the most.

He kissed her jaw, and she shivered with pleasure as he lightly nipped her earlobe. He chuckled softly, pleased by her reaction, and his laughter vibrated through her, making her skin tingle with the pleasure of the sensation.

He pressed his lips to the pulse point on her throat, and she gasped as he bit lightly, sucked, then laved the area with his tongue.

“There. Now, I’ve left a mark to claim ye as mine.”

“Ye… ye didnae need to do… och… that…” Brigid’s words faded away as he kissed her shoulder, then the hollow at the base of her throat. They deserted her entirely in another gasp as Conall closed his mouth over her right breast and suckled, then began to tease her already sensitive nipple with his teeth and tongue.

The warmth and wetness, coupled with the feel of his mouth teasing her breast into a taut peak, reduced Brigid to a moan, her body shifting against his strong, broad frame. The light scrape of his teeth sent little darts of lightning straight to her core and made her skin tingle with both delight and desire for more.

Conall shifted his attention to her left breast, and she gasped, the heat coiling in her belly, demanding more. Pressure and desire built in her core, need making her move restlessly against him, her thighs pressing together as warmth pooled in her belly and groin.

“Conall…” she gasped again, his name the only word in her mind.

He chuckled, then shifted on the bed, his hands framing her sides as he kissed between her breasts, then just below her breastbone, before flicking his tongue across her navel. Brigid arched against his mouth, the warm, rough wetness of his tongue like a brand across her skin, sending heat through her body and making her skin tingle with desire and anticipation.

Soft breaths ruffled the fine hairs that adorned the mound of her sex. Brigid shivered. Nervousness made her want to close her thighs. Desire, however, demanded more.

She cried out for more of Conall’s touch.

Desire, it seemed, was stronger.

His breath ghosted over her again, then his hands touched the inside of her thighs. “Open for me, Brigid.”

The low, deep, honeyed, and smoky tone of his voice, like velvet and steel, coaxed her response out of her, and she pulled her legs apart obediently, revealing her most secret places to his gaze.

“Och, I can see how much ye want me. Ye’re so moist, so ready…”

His breath slid over her, warm like the caress of a summer breeze, ruffling the hairs on her sex and cooling the dampness between her thighs, even as her core tingled with a fresh pulse of need.

He bent closer, and Brigid cried out, the sound low and muffled with surprise as his tongue slid across the seam of her sex, tasting the dampness of her arousal. Her body arched, shuddering as a sensation like lightning danced over and through her.

His tongue stroked her again, pressing more firmly, tasting her. Brigid quivered under the sensation, her body trembling with the force of her desire.

Conall’s tongue caressed her again, then slipped between the outer lips of her sex, gliding light and teasing across her inner folds. The next stroke of his tongue went deeper, plunging inside her and leaving her gasping with pleasure and need as he licked her.

Conall’s hands gripped her thighs, opening her legs wider to give him greater access. His thumbs parted the lips of her sex, and the cool air on her most intimate and secret places made Brigid shiver with delight and desire. She arched into him as his tongue slid over her again, tasting her, caressing and claiming her in the most intimate way.

Conall’s mouth found a small nub, and the pressure of his tongue there caused Brigid to cry out, gasping as a bolt of pure pleasure shot to her core. Conall made an amused sound and licked her again, then sucked lightly on the pleasure point.

Brigid cried out, her whole body arching as a wave of pleasure and need swept over her. “Conall… Conall… I…”

But words escaped her. She could feel her walls clenching, the heat rising to a feverish level, every part of her crying out with need and aching with the desire for more. Her arousal soaked her sex, and Conall lapped at it, drinking her up even as his touch drove her higher.

She could feel something a little like standing on a cliff, about to launch oneself from the edge, but with a certainty of being able to fly. It was unfamiliar but intoxicating, and as Conall pulled back from her, leaving her cold and needy, her body aching with desire, she stared up at him pleadingly.

“Conall…”

Her voice was a breathless moan, her cheeks burning, her whole body filled with need, and all she could seem to say was his name.

“Conall…”

“I ken, lass.” His hand slid across the wet curls that adorned her sex, then down between her legs and into her slick folds. “But I told ye I’d take my time with ye, Brigid, and I meant it.”

It was a small consolation that his voice was a husky, raw growl, as full of need as her own. But then he slid one finger inside her, and suddenly Brigid found herself incapable of further thought.

There was no room for anything in her mind but Conall’s hand covering her, his callused finger pressing slowly and carefully into her. Her body stretched around him, the feeling of being filled offering a burn that was more pleasure than pain.

Brigid shifted restlessly as he pressed into her, wanting more.

Conall continued to press into her until his finger was buried to the knuckle. Brigid gasped as he rocked his hand, withdrawing a bit before pressing deeper. Every movement sent fire dancing through her body, the sensations of pleasure, pressure, and need combining into a single, all-encompassing desire for more.

A second finger found its way into her, and she shivered with pleasure. Her whole body tingled, everything coiling tighter with each wave of sensation. Even the slightest movement of Conall’s fingers made her shudder, writhing around his hand.

The pressure built, pleasure and heat spiraling high as they had before, then higher, taking her to the edge of something…

Conall pulled his hand back, and Brigid whimpered, feeling the emptiness and the need between her legs.

“Conall…” she said again, his name still the only word in her head.

There was a whisper of fabric from somewhere above her, and she managed to focus just long enough to see Conall’s kilt tossed aside, his erection thick and heavy and hot as he lay down and rolled over to cover her body with his own. She felt his rigid length against her thigh and parted her legs so he could settle into the cradle of her hips.

“Och, ye’re enough to drive a man mad…” His voice was a low growl, his eyes hot with the same aching need she felt as he held himself above her, hips shifting until the head of his shaft pressed against her entrance. “If ye kenned how much I’ve wanted this, Brigid…”

His voice shuddered into stillness as he pressed forward, the head of his shaft pressing slowly past her wet folds. His manhood was larger than his fingers, stretching and filling her to the point that pleasure mingled with just the tiniest edge of pain. The heat of him inside her made her whole body ache to feel him deeper.

She wanted all of him, to feel him as deep inside as possible. She thrust her hips up toward his, and he groaned, his muscular body shuddering as he slipped deeper into her.

Inch by inch, he pressed deeper, moving slowly, until Brigid was nearly overwhelmed with a desire to grab him and pull him closer.

There was a sensation of resistance, and she felt Conall’s hardened manhood press against the barrier of her maidenhead. For a moment, hesitation warred with desire, and then need washed away any nervousness.

Conall bent and kissed her, his mouth claiming hers like a man dying of thirst might fall upon a rivulet of water. There was a sharp, momentary pain as his manhood pressed past the barrier, claiming her fully. Then, he slid forward in a smooth, steady movement and buried himself inside her to the hilt.

It burned, but the heat was part of the pleasure. The sensation of being stretched and filled, the feeling of pressure and need, all of it swirled together until Brigid couldn’t stand it anymore. She needed… She had no idea what she needed, but she needed more. She squirmed against Conall, seeking her pleasure.

Conall smirked. “Och, ye’re a demanding lass…”

But he thrust into her and pulled back before thrusting into her once again, setting up a steady rhythm that rocked her against the pillows.

It was everything she wanted and more. The movement, the sensation, the heat, and the pressure. Conall’s body so close to hers that every thrust dragged his muscular chest over her sensitive nipples… all of it poured together to create a rising tide that she made no effort to resist.

The sensations wound higher, tighter, her whole body coiling in response to Conall’s manhood moving inside her. She felt as if she might fly apart, might burst into flames. She clutched at Conall’s shoulders, her body rocking in time with his, every thrust carrying her higher.

Conall cursed, then shifted his weight. One hand slid between them, and his finger stroked her pleasure center with his next thrust.

Brigid gasped, her back arching as a wave of pleasure crashed over her like a dam breaking. Her body shuddered, a cry ripping from her throat as her release washed over her with an intensity like a lightning strike. White light filled her vision as her inner walls clenched around Conall’s shaft.

Conall grunted, then stiffened, an inarticulate sound emerging from his mouth to join her cry of ecstasy. Brigid felt his release spurting deep into her core. Her body clenched around his in another climax, another wave washing over her and carrying her away as she joined her husband in crying out their mutual pleasure.

Another wave, her body still shuddering around his, and the last bits of conscious thought slipped away, drowned by heat and light, and more pleasure than Brigid had ever imagined possible.

She was dimly aware of her body falling limply against the sheets, and of Conall pulling out of her. Then, lassitude flooded in, replacing passion with a warm sort of glow that lulled Brigid softly into slumber, still wrapped in her husband’s arms.