Page 18 of Snowbound Surrender

Finlay’s groan was immediate, his head falling back as she took over what he’d begun. But she wanted more than that.If she was going to do this, she wanted him to beg, to feel her power over him.

Keeping hold, she dipped her head. Advancing and retreating, she brushed her lips over his slickness, teasing, before forming a tight ring. With the flat of her tongue, she laved him, drawing up and down, taking him further each time, into the warmth of her mouth.

He was harder now; starkly erect, his brine salty on her tongue.

“Lass, what you do to me!” Raising her up, the look on his face was one of unadulterated need. “I want to spill inside you, wife—deep inside.”

’Twas she who took the initiative, parting her legs to straddle his lap. One tilt brought the tip of his cock between her labia and, slowly, she sank down upon his arousal.

His face contorted with the pleasure of it. “You’re so tight, lass. Tight and wet—a fiery sheath for my sword.”

A sword, indeed, but I’ll be the one to slay you!

He closed his eyes, holding her firm at the hips and moaning as she began in earnest, circling her pelvis. She’d learnt ’twas the way to build her own pleasure, pushing her ‘pearl’ against the base of him with each sinuous movement.

The air was cool against her back, but her skin was seared everywhere they touched. His mouth claimed her breast and the force with which he sucked her nipple sent a rush between her thighs. He pinched it between tongue and teeth, making her cry out in protest, yet grind all the more.

“Aye! Ride me, wife. Fuck me fast or slow but fuck me hard.”

Shocking as it was, she liked his vulgar language. Still she tugged back his head, stopping his mouth with hers, preventing him from speaking more. The kiss was savage sweet. She curled her tongue, teasing, until he sucked the tip deep, as he had her breast.

A fierce wave overtook her flesh, and she was no longer in command of her movements. All control was lost. He thrust upward while pulling her down, over and over, moving her as was his will. She mewled and cried but he was relentless, plundering, while ripples of pleasure flowed through her.

She clung to him as he went rigid, penetrating her one final time, to spend his seed high within her body.

CHAPTER 9

Margaret was once more gazingat the canopy of the bed, and those ridiculous wedding garlands festooning the frame.

How did I let that happen?

’Twas ill-advised beyond measure.

Foolish, shortsighted, and ludicrous was more like it.

Finlay lay back against the pillows, his hands linked behind his head and his legs spread, his manhood exposed. He’d a smile on his face that was not just relaxed but smugly self-satisfied—as if he’d just won some wager in who could toss the caber furthest, or pulled off an astonishing business deal, rather than merely concluding an act of copulation.

Knowing Finlay, he was already thinking of how to persuade her into a second bout. Worse than that, he’d be thinking all was well, and that she’d given up on her notion of going her own way.

“I always did like how uninhibited you are, Magsie—with the bedsport.”

Heaven help me!

The hot blood was obviously still flowing through his veins, but she was cooling off rapidly. Hopping out of bed, she wentto retrieve her night attire from where Finlay had tossed it, bending over in the process.

“And your arse, of course,” he added cheekily. “Nice and firm, but with a generous amount of flesh to grab onto. Give me a minute or two, and we might try?—”

“Haud yer wheesht, man!” Margaret whirled about, clutching the nightgown to her.

“Not that I’m disparaging your other parts.” Finlay grinned. “You’ve a bosom to get a man panting, right enough—a good handful, rosy-tipped and ripe. Your legs are nae bad either. They’ve a strength on them, I recall, for gripping on when the loveplay turns extra lusty.”

Margaret sent him her best eye daggers. “Such words only confirm to me that what we’ve just done is an animal act, and no more. Don’t be thinking I’ll swoon into your arms, or that we’ll be doing it again.” Hastily, she threw the nightgown over her head.

“Whatever you say, Mags, though I cannae say I believe you. We could be snowed in for weeks. You think you can resist me all that time?”

“Believe it!” Angrily, Margaret climbed back under the covers. “And I certainly won’t be here for weeks! I’ll get myself back to Balmore if I have to wade knee-deep!”

She dearly hoped it wouldn’t come to that.