Page 39 of Rekindled (The MacTavish Heirs #5)

“And there’s many who have compared me to a young Gerard Butler. ”

She narrows her eyes. “Not even if I squint. Maybe a tired, older, used-up version.”

“This is our cue to leave,” I whisper, “Kenna’s gonna eat the poor lad alive.”

The sound of everyone’s laughter, the clink of drinks and cheerful conversation fades as Lucas swoops me up in his arms, taking the stairs two at a time.

“Slow it down!” I hiss.

He frowns, setting me down carefully in the bedroom. “Did I hurt your back?”

“Nae, ye arse. I was worried about yours.”

His hands rest on my hips as he looks around at the flowery wallpaper and chintz covered furniture. “It looks like someone’s maiden aunt exploded in here.”

“Any maiden aunt who knew what really went on behind this door would explode like a vampire at high noon.” I kiss his neck, loosening his tie. “I’ve had to usher the girls from this suite many a time whilst some impetuous MacTavish ravaged his poor bride to be.”

“Poor lass,” he says, with the most wicked grin, “and now it’s your turn. If you’re walking straight down the aisle tomorrow, I’ve not done my job.”

“Ye are shameless,” I say approvingly, “truly terrible.”

“Ye have no idea.”

Our mouths come together, messy, and greedy, broken breaths and filthy whispers. His long fingers slide to my arse and squeeze. “I might finish here tonight.”

When I freeze, every muscle locked tight, he chuckles. “Perhaps not tonight. Ye canna walk like you’ve just gotten off a horse tomorrow. I’ll settle for just a bit of a limp, a flinch when ye sit down…”

This should not be getting me as hot as it is.

His fingers slip under the strap of my dress, as he kisses my shoulder, then my dress is slithering down to my ankles and my knickers soon after. He cups my breasts reverently, his thumbs brushing my stiff nipples.

“Always me naked and ye dressed,” I whisper.

“Not tonight.” Unzipping his pants quickly, I slide my hand inside his fly, squeezing his erection, enjoying his harsh intake of breath before I pull his trousers and boxer briefs down.

His dick slaps against his abdomen, ready, the ruddy tip already giving me a pearl of precum.

Falling to my knees, I lick it off him, and my stoic spouse groans, fisting his hand in my hair.

“Mmm-hmm,” I moan approvingly, enjoying the vibration along the thick length of him as I tilt my head, sucking as much of him as I can into my mouth.

It’s sloppy, graceless and my only thought is to have him down my throat.

I’ve tried before, but the man is so damn thick…

“So good,” he growls, “this talented mouth of yours.” He’s watching me slide more of him between my lips and I swear he’s getting harder. “I can feel your tongue fluttering along me… just the tiniest scrape of your teeth… feck, what ye do to me.”

I love this moment, knowing my enormous, deadly husband is weak in the knees because of me, helpless for anything but the feel of my mouth and as I swallow around his tip, it slips down my throat and his head drops back, tendons tight in his neck.

“Ach, god. It’s too good. I canna come like this tonight. I need to be inside ye.” I growl a little as he pulls his cock from my mouth and he lifts me, kissing me and tasting his own essence.

We both struggle to get his clothes out of the way and then he’s kneeling on the bed, all his tattoos bright over rippling skin and muscle.

He goes back on his heels, spreading his knees wider.

“Climb on, my filthy lass. You’re going to ride me.

” I’m a little awkward, we’ve not done this way before but he braces me with a hand on the small of my back and the other cupping my arse.

Lucas is so big in this position- filling me and spreading me so completely.

Everything inside me feels pressed aside for his driving cock and it’s unimaginably good.

He tightens his grip on my arse, shoving me back and forth on his cock, and his other hand pulling and stroking at my nipples.

I can feel the shower of sparks move up my spine, so close to coming…

His voice is sin, dark and delicious and wraps around me in a coiled embrace. “You’re making a mess on my cock, sweet lass, so wet and needy. Ye want to come, ye want squeeze my cock like a fist. So slick for me…”

“I- d- do!” I gasp on a particularly hard thrust.

“If I lean ye on my arm,” he murmurs, hips still moving, “can ye arch that pretty back? My cock will press in on ye like ye never felt before and nothing will ever feel as good.”

His forearm braces me and I arch back, cautiously at first, waiting for a twinge, a spasm but there’s nothing more than the feel of his thick head rubbing hard against the front of me and as he thrusts higher, he presses his other hand against my stomach and it’s too much.

He’s behind me, inside me, in front and I scream, sparks showering like fireworks and with a long growl, Lucas comes too, flooding me, both of us a glorious, perfect mess.

Currently, at the wedding …

Lucas and I are pulled from our hiding place and brought to the dance floor. We dance together, laughing and kissing, whispering bits and pieces of love to each other. When my father steps up, Lucas nods and gives him my hand, turning to bring his mother onto the floor.

The last rays of the sun turn violet and purple and the fairy lights strung in every bit of greenery twinkle like fireflies.

“Are ye happy, love?”

I smile up at my father, laughing as he twirls me dramatically. “So much Da, so much more than I knew a heart could hold.”

“That is the most important thing,” he nods. “Though I would appreciate it if your husband would stop poaching my best people.”

“Ach, now. They approached him , and ye know it, Da. Besides, they’re not really gone, they’re just… MacTavish adjacent.”

“My girl, I have something I must say to ye.” My father looks acutely uncomfortable, something I’m not sure I’ve ever seen. He deftly spins me in the opposite direction, avoiding a collision with Uncle Lachlan and Auntie Aria, who are making out more than dancing.

“What is it? Ye look so upset.”

My mighty father, Chieftain of the MacTavish Mafia blurts out, “That night I sent ye to Badis, I asked him to marry ye and Lucas. It was high-handed. It was wrong. I wanted to give ye back something for the three years I’d taken and-”

“We already knew,” I interrupt him, though I’m enjoying his moment of deep chagrin. “Lucas guessed, based on your lack of reaction when Badis shared the news on that call in your study. We confronted him and he apologized, offering to sever the union, which, of course, he knew we would refuse.”

Da takes a deep sigh, “Your mother tore a stripe off me when she figured it out.”

“We forgive ye.” Lucas steps up to us, holding out his hand. “And if I may, I’d like to take my bride to cut the cake.” When Da offers his hand, Lucas pauses, just for a moment, then shakes it firmly, before Da goes in search of Mum to get her forgiveness as well.

“Ye just had to make him sweat, dinnae ye?” I whisper to Lucas.

“Just a bit.”

Our wedding cake is beautiful, lemon sponge with lavender cream and studded with fresh flowers. Mairi hands me a silver knife, engraved with our last names twined together. “Will ye two make a wish before ye cut it?”

Lucas, handsome in his black jacket and Stewart kilt, smiles down at me. So tender, this man, unguarded for this precious moment and we both know what we want to say.

“We will never take for granted…” he begins.

“Any moment that we are given together in this life,” I finish.

The piper starts up with an old bridal song as we cut the cake, and as we kiss, the sweet, high tones of the bagpipes float over the garden before spiraling up for the evening breeze to carry them away.