Page 52 of The Laird’s Wrong Wife

“Still ready for me?” he murmured.

“Aye.” Ceana opened her legs further and guided him closer.

He braced himself above her on one forearm, the blunt head of his manhood pressing against her entrance. He paused for a moment and searched her face. She wrapped one leg around his hip and pulled him closer. Then he pushed the head inside her.

The pressure stretched into a sharp pain that made her tense around him.

“Wait.”

Oscar stopped. His muscles shook with the effort of holding still, but he gave her no further inch. He kissed her mouth, then her cheek, keeping his weight off her while his free hand moved between them.

“Look at me,” he said. “Tell me what ye need.”

“I want ye… to take yer time.”

His thumb circled her sensitive bud, sending a bolt of pleasure through her. He watched her face and adjusted the pressure when she moaned.

Ceana tried a small lift of her hips. The movement stung, though less sharply than before. Oscar remained still inside her while she tried again, finding an angle that let her body receive him.

“Now,” she whispered.

He slid in a fraction deeper and waited for her breath to settle. The first strokes were easy. Ceana kept her leg around his hip and followed each withdrawal, learning his rhythm and the pull of her own body. The pain eventually ebbed, leaving delicious friction in its wake.

Her grip loosened on his shoulder. She drew him down for a kiss, and when he moved again, her hips rose to meet him. Oscar made a rough sound into her mouth.

“More,” she moaned.

His next thrust was harder. Ceana caught his lower lip between hers, then released it with a broken breath. His pace quickened each time she met him, while his hand continued stroking her bud.

“That’s it, wife,” he rasped. “Look at me.”

Ceana held his gaze as he drove into her. The pleasure that his thumb had stirred spread through her belly, growing with every stroke. She shifted her hips, and the new angle tore a cry from her.

Oscar slowed his pace at once.

“Again,” she begged. “Like that. Please.”

He gave her the same deep stroke, and she pulled him down until his chest was flush against hers.

“Ye are holdin’ back,” she said against his mouth.

“I am tryin’ to spare ye.”

“I will tell ye if ye hurt me.” She tightened her legs around his hips. “Ye have made me ask long enough.”

His expression shifted, and his hand tightened on the blanket near her head. “Ye have tested me long enough,” he growled.

His thrusts quickened after that, and she met each one, pulling him closer whenever he withdrew. His thumb pressed on her bud with each deep stroke until pleasure gathered too quickly for her to catch her breath.

“Oscar.” She caught his face and made him look at her. “Daenae stop.”

He kept thrusting into her until her body clenched around him in quick pulses, each one spreading through her limbs. His name escaped her lips in a cry, louder this time. He kissed her through the aftershocks, his thrusts becoming erratic.

He tried to lift off her, but she wound her arms around his shoulders. “Stay with me.”

Oscar went still, still buried deep inside her. His eyes found hers, the warning plain in them.

“Ceana,” he groaned.