He intended to do everything in his power to make sure she knew he would never demand anything from her ever again.
“How could I be rough with such a precious thing as ye?” he murmured against her lips as he pulled her legs around him, pushing her skirts high on to her hips.
She gripped his shoulders for support, her lips reaching for his again, but he pulled back playfully.
“Or are ye too delicate for me to so much as kiss?” he wondered aloud, teasing her.
Her eyes had grown heavy-lidded, and it was clear she was hungry for him. But, more than anything, he loved hearing how much she wanted him. After desiring her for so long, there was no more potent potion to his ears than knowing that she was now his; that she would have done anything if it meant gifting her the pleasure they both ached for so badly.
“Tavish…” she murmured to him, running her nails along his scalp.
“No, I dinnae want to hurt such a gentle wee thing,” he teased her, barely caressing his lips to hers. “Are ye sure ye can stand it, Ailsa? How badly I want ye?”
“Ye need me to say it?” she demanded, letting her fingertips dig into him lightly.
“Well, I have to be sure, do I not?” he replied, letting his words tease out against her lips for a moment.
Her back was arched from the door as she tried to press herself against him, but he would not budge, not until he had heard it from her directly.
“I want ye, Tavish,” she told him, her eyes pinned to his, unyielding, no shame in her demands now that she had grown used to laying them out for him.
“Hmm, I’m still not sure…” he murmured, kissing sweetly along her neck and towards her ear.
She grasped his hair in her hand, pulling his ear towards her mouth as if making certain he would have no choice but to hear her.
“Make me yers, husband.”
And that word, the sweet alchemy of it, was all that he needed to convince himself of what he craved so badly.
Tucking one arm beneath her, he reached to pull down his trousers, just far enough that he could take his manhood in his hand and guide it towards her.
Her flimsy underthings were soon tossed aside, and he brought himself to her entrance, their breath mingling in the small space between them as they drank in the looks on each other’s faces.
He was sure he would never get tired of it, the sight of her like this, so hungry for him it seemed she might lose herself if she did not get to feel him within her.
And he was more than happy to oblige. He slipped himself inside of her in one slow motion, savoring the sensation of her warmth around him. When they came together like this, he could feel something in himself giving way; something unclenching deep within him, some coldness that he had tried to cling to for so long finally drifting where he could no longer sense it.
She gasped, and he watched her, marveling at how beautiful she looked, even after a day of riding and hard work. In fact, even more beautiful for it, for how sweet and patient she had been, how kind and giving.
She tightened her legs around him, silently insisting that he push even deeper inside of her, her feet hooking behind his back as he drove himself into her. Her dress was a mess around them, the fabric hitched up to give him just enough space to take her.
He would undress her soon enough and lavish every inch of her body with the attention it so clearly deserved, but for now, all he wanted was for them to have each other once more.
She tipped her head back, letting it rest against the uneven wood grain of the door behind her, and he took the invitation to slide his lips along her throat, feeling the beat of her heart through her veins.
He matched it to the pace of his thrusts—slow, slow, steady, sensuous—until he could take no more and began to move with more insistence.
He could feel the demanding want of his pleasure starting to grow more and more pressing inside of him as he took her, the sound of her soft whimpers and moans only driving him to greater heights of need. His hands sank into her thighs, keeping them apart as he entered her over and over again, marveling at how well their bodies seemed to fit together.
He knew he would never grow tired of her, of the way she reacted to him, not when it felt as perfect as this—not when the sounds she made and the satisfaction of her pleasure were so utterly, completely all-consuming.
He drove himself to the hilt inside of her, pressing himself to her completely and rocking his hips there for a moment. Pinned between him and the door, it only took her a few more moments before she went over the edge and into her release, letting a ragged cry fly from between her lips as her body tightened around him.
The sudden convulsion of her sex against his manhood was all it took to guide him to his own release. A low groan rose from somewhere deep inside him as he plunged into her one last time and stilled himself there within her. She ran her hands along his back, her chest rising and falling quickly, her body sinking into his like she would rather have been nowhere else in the world.
And, as he lifted her from the door and carried her towards the bed, she wrapped her arms around him gladly. The two of them had the rest of the night together before their duty came calling again. And, even when it did, he knew at least that he would be able to share it with her.
And when he had Ailsa at his side, no duty felt like much of a burden.
