Mhairi's went up to cover his. "I'm choosin’ ye too. In case that wasnae clear from me sayin’ aye in front of the entire village."
"It was fairly clear." His smile was warm. "Though I wouldnae object tae hearin’ it again."
"I choose ye, Alpin MacDougal."
She watched him through half-lidded eyes, her pulse quickening as his gaze darkened. There was hunger there, but something else too; reverence, maybe. Or possession.
The thought sent a shiver down her spine, her nipples tightening beneath the fabric. His sleeves brushed against her arms as he leaned over her, the coarse weave of his tunic scraping delicately against her skin. Then his mouth was on hers, slow and deep, his lips parting hers with a patience that made her ache.
She tasted the ale he’d drunk earlier, the faint salt of his skin, the heat of him seeping into her like a promise.
Her hands found his shoulders, broad and solid beneath her fingertips. Even through the layers of his clothing, she could feel the corded muscle, the strength of him.
She let her palms slide down, over the hard planes of his chest, her thumbs catching on the laces of his tunic. The need to feel him,allof him, was a fire in her veins. She tugged at the ties, her fingers fumbling in her haste, but he caught her wrists gently, stilling her.
“Patience,mo chridhe,”he murmured against her lips, his voice a rough purr.
His hands returned to her body, sliding the straps of her shift down her arms, baring her shoulders to the cool air of the tent.
She gasped as the fabric pooled at her waist, her breasts spilling free, the nipples already tight and aching. His breath hitched, his gaze dropping to take her in, and the way he looked at her—like she was something precious, somethinghis—made her thighs press together.
“Alpin,”she whispered, her voice trembling.
He didn’t answer with words. Instead, his mouth found the sensitive skin of her neck, his lips pressing hot and open-mouthed against her pulse.
She arched into him, her fingers tangling in the thick waves of his hair as his tongue traced a path down to her collarbone. The wet heat of his mouth sent a jolt straight to her core, her hips lifting involuntarily.
His hands followed the curve of her waist, his calloused palms rough against the softness of her skin, before slipping beneath the hem of her shift. She gasped as his fingers found the inside of her thigh, his touch firm but teasing, inching higher with maddening slowness.
“Ye’re so fuckin’ beautiful,”he growled, his breath hot against her skin. His fingers brushed against the damp heat of her, and she moaned, her head falling back.“Always so wet fer me.”
She couldn’t do anything but whimper as his fingers parted her, sliding through the slick folds with deliberate precision.
One thick digit pressed inside her, and she muffled a cry aware of where they were, her nails digging into his shoulders. Hecrooked it, finding that spot that made her vision blur, her body clenching around him.
“Alpin, please,” she begged, her voice breaking.
He didn’t make her wait.
His mouth crashed back onto hers, his kiss bruising as he shifted above her, his weight settling between her thighs. She could feel the hard length of him through his trews, the heat of his manhood pressing against her inner thigh. Her legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him closer, and he groaned, the sound vibrating against her lips.
His hands trembled slightly as he worked at the laces of his trews, his movements losing some of their earlier precision.
She helped him, her fingers brushing against his as she pushed the fabric down his hips, freeing his manhood. It sprang free, thick and flushed, the head already glistening with pre-cum. She bit her lip, her folds clenching at the sight of him, so ready, sohers.
He positioned himself at her entrance, his gaze locked with hers, his jaw tight with restraint.
“Mine,”he growled, and then he was pushing inside her, slow and steady, stretching her open.
She whimpered, her nails raking down his back as he filled her completely, his manhood seated deep, the stretch of him almost too much.
For a moment, he didn’t move. He just breathed, his forehead pressed to hers, his hands gripping her hips like he was memorizing the feel of her.
Then he began to rock into her, his thrusts deep and measured, each one dragging against that perfect spot inside her. The furs beneath them rustled with every movement, the sound mixing with their ragged breaths, the slick slide of his cock in and out of her.
“Ye feel so good,”he groaned, his voice rough.“So tight, soperfect.”
She could only moan in response, her body winding tighter with every thrust. Her heels dug into the backs of his thighs, urging him deeper, harder.
