“I want to get deeper.” The need was primal, irresistible. “I want to come inside you, Maggie mine, and fill you with my seed.”
He hadn’t done that since their very first time. But now she was his, and he was hers, and he wanted everything. She shivered, the reflexive squeeze of her cunny telling him she wanted it too.
He needed no other encouragement. He lifted her, then brought her down hard onto his shaft. The depth of the penetration set fire to his blood. He drove up inside her over and again, her pussy wetly kissing his balls, her sounds of pleasure egging him on. Flames licked his insides, and finally he could hold back no more.
“Take me, my love. All of me,” he growled.
“Come inside me,” she beckoned sultrily. “I want to feel you.”
They came together, looking into each other’s eyes, and the rapture was beyond anything he’d felt before. He groaned as his duchess wrung him of his seed, as he emptied himself into her sweet, generous keeping.
Panting, he set her on the ground and touched his forehead to hers.
“That is what I call a wedding celebration,” he said huskily. “Now tell me again why we invited all those damned people?”
“It was your idea,” she reminded him. “I wanted a small wedding, remember?”
“Hoisted by my own petard.”
Reluctantly, he withdrew from her in a warm, moist rush. The sight of his seed trickling down her silken thigh made him regret the party more than ever. What he wouldn’t give to continue their festivities…
“Oh no, you don’t.” Maggie slapped his hand away with mock severity.
The problem was that her primness had the opposite of its intended effect. Her eyes widened as she took in his renewed interest. Well, not renewed exactly: it had never subsided.
He gave her his most rakish grin. “I can make this one quick.”
“There’s no time.” Clearly trying not to smile, she retrieved his trousers from the floor and handed them to him. “Get dressed.”
“The guests can entertain themselves,” he cajoled.
Giggling, she slipped out of his reach, pulling on her chemise. “I’m not talking about the guests. I want to give you your wedding present.”
He waggled his brows. “Didn’t you already?”
“This one is from Glory and me. She’s been waiting all day to give it to you.”
The mention of his daughter caused a kick of warmth in Rhys’s chest. Day by day, the bond between them had grown even stronger. He’d had the adoption paperwork readied before the wedding; now that he and Maggie were married, he would legally adopt Glory. The world would officially recognize what was already in his heart.
Sighing, he got dressed and waited while Maggie’s lady’s maid set her to rights.
Together, they headed to Glory’s chamber.
As his wife had claimed, their daughter was waiting for him. Glory’s eyes were as bright as new guineas as she presented him with the gift. Rhys’s throat swelled at the sight of the pup, a foxhound with floppy brown ears and a big red bow tied around its neck.
Crouching, he put out his hand, and the pup bounded over. Tail wagging, it sniffed and licked his fingers.
“Do you like him?” Glory asked eagerly.
He had to clear his throat before speaking. “Very much. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. It was my idea,” she said. “Mama thought I just wanted a dog for myself, but I don’t need one any more since I have F. F.”
As if hearing its name, the ferret came running, zipping up Glory’s arm and winding around her neck. From its perch, it eyed the puppy with great suspicion.
“What are you going to call him?” Maggie asked softly.
Looking at his wife and daughter’s smiling faces, his dog’s fur soft beneath his palm, Rhys said the first thing that came to mind. “Lucky.”
