“I’d be honored, wife,” Bull murmured, his hands sliding up her arms as he lowered his head to her neck. His lips brushed the sensitive skin there, and she shivered. “Though right now, I’m thinking less about designing clothing, and more about taking it off. Do ye ken how delicious ye look in this?”
“Thank you,” she gasped as his touch slid down her throat. “It was a scandalously inappropriate gift from my Aunt Eliza.”
Bull chuckled against her skin. “Remind me to thank her later. Much later.”
He slipped the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders. The silk whispered down her body to pool at her feet, leaving her naked in the firelight.
Her husband’s hands cupped her face as he kissed her deeply, his tongue sliding against hers. She pushed his robe off his shoulders, eager to feel his skin against hers. When the fabric fell away, she pressed herself against him, feeling his cock already hard between them.
Yes.
“Bed,” he growled against her mouth, and she obeyed.
They moved together toward the large four-poster bed and Bull lifted her onto the mattress. She scooted backward, her hair spreading across the pillows as he climbed over her. The weight of him settling between her thighs felt right, made to measure, perfect.
“My wife,” he murmured, his gray eyes intense as he stared down at her. There was something reverent in his expression, almost awed, and it made her heart squeeze.
“My husband,” she whispered back, reaching up to trace his jaw.
Bull kissed her again, slower this time, as his hand slid down her body. His fingers found her already wet, and when he stroked through her folds, she gasped into his mouth.
“So ready for me,” he praised, circling her clitoris with his thumb as he slid two fingers inside her. “Always so perfect.”
Rosie’s hips lifted off the bed, eagerly chasing his touch. He stroked that spot inside her that made her toes curl, his fingers moving with practiced skill. The pleasure built quickly, her body remembering his touch, craving it.
He always knew just what she wanted.
“Bull, please,” she gasped. “I—I need you inside me.”
He withdrew his fingers, positioning himself between her spread thighs. The head of his cock pressed against her entrance, and he paused, his gaze holding hers.
“Ready, love?”
“Always,” she breathed.
He pushed inside her in one slow, steady stroke, filling her completely. The stretch was delicious, familiar now yet still intense. Rosie moaned, her hands gripping his shoulders as he sheathed himself fully.
“Fook, ye feel good,” Bull groaned, his forehead pressing to hers. “Never getting tired of this—of ye.”
He started to move, pulling out almost completely before sliding back in. Each stroke was deliberate, measured, as if he wanted to savor every second. The angle meant the base of his cock dragged against her clitoris with each thrust, and Rosie felt the pleasure building steadily.
A pleasure she was more than ready to receive.
“More,” she urged, her legs wrapping around his hips to pull him deeper.
Bull complied, his pace increasing. His cock filled her over and over, hitting that perfect spot inside that made her breath catch. She could hear the wet sounds of him moving inside her, could feel the heat of his body above her, the strength in his arms as he braced himself.
“Love ye,” he rasped, his lips brushing her temple, her cheek, her jaw. “My Rose. My wife.Mine.”
“Yours,” she agreed, her nails digging into his back. “And you are mine.Forever.”
His thrusts grew deeper, more purposeful, and she felt the tension coiling tight in her belly. Every stroke of his cock against her inner walls sent sparks of pleasure through her body. The pressure of him grinding against her clitoris with each downward thrust was driving her higher and higher, and oh God, she was ready.
“That’s it, love,” Bull encouraged, his voice strained. “Feel how good we are together. How perfect.”
She did. She felt every inch of him sliding in and out, felt the way her body gripped him, welcoming him. The friction was exquisite, building that familiar pressure that threatened to overwhelm her.
Bull shifted slightly, changing the angle, and suddenly every thrust hit exactly where she needed it. Rosie cried out, her back arching off the mattress.
