A Perfect Wife(35)
“My arse is spreading, my waist disappearing, and I’m top-heavy,” she complained.
“Aye, ye are even more beautiful than the night we met.”
She groaned in exasperation. “’Twasn’t a compliment I was giving.”
“Ah, lass, what a woman thinks of her body is not the same as what her man does.” He looked in her eyes and shook his head. “Ye have beautiful breasts and a fine arse, aye. But ’tis yer smile and yer laugh, and the way yer eyes turn green when ye wish me inside ye that makes me bless yer father for bringing us together.”
She blushed, looking away for a moment. “And I like your strong arms and deep voice, and the way you bellow ‘mine!’.”
He frowned. “I do that? I thought ’twas only Duff?”
“You are not listening when you do it,” she replied with a laugh.
“I’ve heard you say it yerself once or twice.”
Her mouth dropped and eyes opened wide. “Nay!”
“Aye.” He gripped her breast in emphasis. “’Tis not just men who wish to claim what is theirs.”
She crinkled her nose, something he found most endearing. “I dinna like the way some of the women eye you as if you were a sweet they’d been craving for years.”
He’d seen them look. It made him uncomfortable. The ones who flashed an ankle and gave him a saucy eye, thinking they’d gain by bedding him, were the worst. He’d made it known he respected women and would keep his wedding vows. Taking a whip to a man’s back for rape had shown them he was serious, but only time would prove that Kiera was the only one he wanted.
“They can look,” he said, “but none can touch me but my wife.”
She drilled her eyes at him. “They'd best not look too close!”
“Good to know,” he replied, hiding a smile at her fierceness. It quickly faded. “’Tis like me and Duff are two halves of a whole. We shared a womb, and now we share our woman.” He toyed absently with her breast. “We dinna remember our mother. Ye’re the first woman to hold us, or to care since Mary died. Mayhaps that makes us more fierce to hold ye.”
“I do care for you, husband.” She clenched his cock with her pussy muscles. “And I care for your hard cock as well.” She tilted her head and gave him a look of impatience. “I also care for food. So shall you do something about this”—she squeezed him again—”or shall I get up and break my fast?”
She’d not spoken of love, just caring this time. And then she’d reduced that to daily things. It relieved him of the burden of speaking comforting words to her. ‘Love’ was a nothing word, one most often used in a lie to allow a man’s cock to find release inside a woman rather than his hand.
He rolled them both over onto their knees, still joined. One hand went to her clit while the other clutched her hip. He’d not last long but would be damned if he’d let go before she peaked once more!
The slightest touch on her eager clit had her moaning.
“Is this what ye wish from me, wife?”
“’Tis a start,” she said coquettishly. She gasped when he pinched. He gathered her fluid on his finger and entered her arse. That, and his fingers on her clit, held her in position while he slowly filed. Faster and faster, the wet slaps filled the room.
“Ye wish more?” he demanded.
“Aye!”
He twisted and drilled his finger in her arse while pinching her clit. She keened, high and shrill as her orgasm caught his cock in a vise. He set both hands on her hips and plowed into her, hard, as she rippled around him. He gritted his teeth, growling his roar of possession.
When the shudders faded he leaned over her, resting on his fists with his elbows locked to keep from crushing her. They both fought for air. When he could inhale he moved her hair aside and kissed her shoulder.
“I missed ye, Kiera,” he said between kisses. “And I missed sharing this with ye.”
“Then the laird of Kinrowan had best put pleasing his wife on his list of daily chores, aye?”
He chuckled at her demand.
“Aye.”
Chapter Twelve
Duff passed through the laird’s office and into Fergus’s lair. The old man perched on his tall stool and peered out the north window over the village to the sea. He didn’t turn around.
“Ye’d best have brought me sommat to break my fast, laddie.”
The only place Duff could set his tray of bread, cheese, and ale was on the extra stool. The rest of the flat surfaces, other than the floor, were covered in things Fergus insisted he needed to keep in sight. Fergus was a cantankerous old man who loved to battle with words. That suited Duff well this morning.