"I want ye," she whispered. "All of ye. Now. Please, Magnus."
He groaned, his forehead dropping to rest against hers. "We should go slow. Ye've been through so much tonight?—"
"I've been waitin' fer weeks." Ada's hand slid lower, over the hard plane of his stomach. "I dinnae want slow. I want ye tae show me what ye've been holdin' back."
Magnus captured her hand before it could go any lower. Brought it to his lips, kissed her palm. "Then hold on to me, lass. Because I dinnae think I can be gentle."
"Good." Ada pulled him down, claimed his mouth in a kiss that left no doubt about what she wanted. "I dinnae want gentle. I want ye."
But even as pleasure built between them, even as Magnus's kisses grew more heated and his touches more urgent, Ada felt him holding something back. Felt him keeping that final barrier in place even as their bodies pressed together.
When she reached for the laces of his trousers, his hand caught hers again.
"Nae taenight," he said, his voice strained. "Tonight, is about ye. About makin' sure ye're all right."
"But I want?—"
"I ken what ye want." Magnus kissed her softly. "And we'll get there. Now let me take care of ye,” he murmured. “Let me show ye what it feels like to be wanted. Cherished.””
He looked up at her then, eyes dark, intent, as though that was exactly where he meant to be. His hands were steady as he guided them down, searching for her sacred spot and when his fingers caressed her nub, she felt her whole body trembling.
“Look at me,” he murmured.
She did. And the moment stretched, taut and breathless, before he leaned in this time—unhurried, thorough, utterly focused on her.
Before she could speak, before she could question him, his mouth traced a slow, deliberate path over her skin—unhurried, reverent, as though he were learning her anew. Ada’s fingers tangled in his hair as sensation overtook thought, her body arching instinctively toward him and when his mouth reached her wetness she felt out of this world.
“Ye’re so ready fer me, lass,” Magnus murmured as his tongue played with her nub and his finger slowly breached her wetness. She felt boneless and didn’t expect even more pleasure could exist until Magnus added a second finger, without stopping the dance of his tongue.
“Oh me God.”
Magnus took his time. He learned her reactions, adjusted to every hitch of her breath, every tremor that ran through her when sensation built too fast, too sharp. He didn’t rush her through it. Didn’t let her slip away from it either.
Ada’s fingers curled into his hair, her head tipping back as the world narrowed to heat and rhythm and the way he held her there—grounded, present, unwavering—until thought dissolved entirely.
She felt heat and desire pool low until it was unbearable.
“Magnus, I?—”
“Let go fer me, Ada, let go.”
And she did, feeling the world shatter around her and a pleasure she could never have imagined overtook her. By the time he finally rose again, her body felt boneless, loose with pleasure, her pulse still racing beneath her skin. She could barely keep her eyes open, let alone form words.
“Now let me take care of ye,” she said trying to touch him, but he went up and kissed her lips gently removing her hand and taking it in hers.
Ada wanted to argue. Wanted to push past that last wall he was keeping between them. But exhaustion was catching up with her now, making her limbs heavy with pleasure and her thoughts slow.
"Why?" she whispered. "Why willnae ye… "
"Because I'm nae ready yet," Magnus said quietly, gathering her against his chest.
The words hurt more than Ada expected. Even after everything they'd just done, after he'd been so gentle and fierce and protective, he still didn't trust her completely.
Still didn't think she deserved all of him.
Ada closed her eyes against the sting of tears. "I understand."
But she didn't. Not really.
