Her breasts were bare now. I cupped one, feeling the weight, brushing the nipple. It hardened under my touch, and she let out a quiet exhale. I kissed the other, flicking my tongue over the peak. She arched into it, her hand coming up to my hair, her fingers threading through.
I switched sides, sucking gently while rolling the first. Her grip tightened, pulling a little, and a low sound escaped her, not quite a moan but close. My cock swelled, but I focused on her and the way her skin flushed under my mouth.
The dress still hung at her waist. I slid it the rest of the way off. She stepped free, steady on her feet, now just in her underthings. It was simple fabric, nothing fancy, but on her it looked amazing.
Dropping to my knees, I kissed her belly. Her muscles tensed under my lips, then relaxed as I traced a line across her navel,down to her hip. She watched me, her eyes dark and her breathing uneven.
One eyebrow arched. “You’re very good at that.”
“The undressing?”
“The kneeling. You look comfortable.”
“I’m highly motivated.” I kissed her hip. “Stop distracting me.”
“You started it.”
Her smooth skin was warm from the dancing and the fire. I hooked my fingers in the waistband of her underthings and eased them down, kissing the newly exposed skin as I went. The curve of her hip. The top of her thigh. She stepped out of them, one foot and the other, her hand on my shoulder for balance.
My wife. The word landed the same way it always did now, quietly, like it had been true for longer than the ceremony.
I had many years ahead of me if the Fates were generous. I’d give every one of them to be the male she wanted to claim as her own.
I stood, scooping her up, my arms under her knees and back. She wrapped hers around my neck, kissing my jaw as I carried her to the bed. I laid her down carefully, settling her in the middle, the pillows under her head.
She reached for me, and I climbed over her, bracing my body on my forearms. Her legs parted, making room. I kissed her again, deeper this time, while trailing my fingers down her side, over her hip, squeezing lightly.
She tugged at my shirt. “Off.”
I sat back on my heels and pulled it over my head, tossing it aside. Her eyes tracked over my chest, her hands following, her fingers tracing scars and muscle. One old mark from a border fight, another from a hunt gone wrong. She didn’t ask about them, just explored, her touch light and arousing.
I tensed without meaning to. Waiting for a question, a flinch, or the pause some people gave scars when they thought you weren’t looking. She didn’t do any of that. She just learned them and moved on like they were part of the map, and the map was worth knowing. My heart did something I didn’t have a word for yet.
“I have more.” The words popped out before I thought about holding them back.
Her hand stilled on my ribs. “More scars?”
“Some have better stories than others.”
She traced one lightly. “Tell me sometime?”
“Yes. Sometime.”
When her hands moved to my pants, I let her help unfasten them. She pushed them down, over my hips, and I shifted to kick them off, leaving me bare. Her gaze dropped, and she swallowed, reaching out to wrap her fingers around my engorged cock.
I groaned as she stroked up the length once. “Victoria.”
She gave me a small smile and did it again.
I caught her wrist before she could do it a third time and take me completely apart.
“You’re going to ruin me, and I’m going to let you,” I rasped. “That’s the part I can’t get over.”
“Probably.” Her smile came small and a little smug and it hit me below the sternum in the best way.
I turned her wrist over and kissed the inside of it, loving how her pulse jumped.
“You do that a lot,” she said.
