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I cover her mouth—
“Too much,” she whispers into my palm. “Ye’re too much.”
I tighten my hold just enough to keep her still while my hips keep a slow, relentless rhythm. “You’ll take all of me,” I say lowly, “and you’ll carry the feel of me after I’m done like the mark you feckin’ wanted.” She trembles beneath me as I drive deeper, my forehead falling briefly to hers. “Don’t think I’ve missed the way you’ve looked at me for days, cailín álainn.”
I pull back and slam into her harder, setting a punishing rhythm. The stone scrapes her back with each thrust, but she doesn’t complain—her legs wrap around my waist tighter, pulling me deeper.
I drive into her without mercy, my hips snapping forward, losing myself in the feel of her. She grips me tight, milking my shaft as I pound her against the castle wall. Sweat beads on our skin despite the cold air, our breaths mingling in harsh pants.
I release her mouth only to cup her throat, my hand tightening just enough to make her gasp. Her pulse flutters wildly beneath my fingers, and the feeling nearly undoes me.
“Feel what you’ve done to me?” I rasp, thrusting deeper, hitting that spot inside her that makes her eyes roll back. “You drew this out of me.”
She moans my name, her voice breaking as her body shakes. I can feel her getting close, her inner muscles fluttering with an intensity that sends a violent shudder through my entire body. I angle my hips, grinding against her clit with every plunge, pushing her toward the edge.
“Let go for me, a áille. Críochnaigh dom.” I bite the words out, the edge of my control already slipping—heat builds low in my gut, balls tightening.
I stay close as she breaks. I brace her harder against the stone, mouth at her ear, grip iron on her waist, breath hot, voice low and unrelenting. Anchoring her through the pleasure.
“That’s it,” I growl. “Take it. Don’t hide from it.”
Her body locks and shudders as pleasure rips through her in helpless waves. She fights to contain it, but her breath betrays her in ragged, stifled bursts. The slick drag around my cock flips something in me, and I go feral—the last of my restraint splintering. Seeing her come undone, pinned and shaking, drags me straight to the edge.
My grip tightens. My rhythm turns ruthless—precise, practiced, made to push her right through the edge again and again.
“Look at me,” I demand, and when she does, I swear I could tear the world apart.
My thighs tense; my grip bites into her as pleasure tears through me in rough, involuntary surges.
I pull out as my climax surges, stroking my cock furiously.
It hits hard and fast. I can’t stop the sound that rips out of my throat. Can’t stop the way my body stutters and empties itself out in aftershocks, trembling through every beat of it.
Hot ropes of cum shoot out, splattering across her bare cunt and inner thighs, marking her pale skin with thick white streaks. It drips down her legs, mixing with her own wetness, as I grunt through the aftershocks, my hand pumping until every drop is spent.
When it finally ebbs, I’m still holding her there, breathing like I’ve been dragged under and hauled back up. My hands don’t loosen right away—not until the shaking in her softens, not until I feel her find herself again.
“On your feet,” I murmur, voice rough with the last of it. I guide her down carefully.
Only then do I pull back enough to compose myself, to tuck myself away with a sharp exhale, eyes never leaving her.
She slumps against the wall, chest heaving.
She’s flushed, hair mussed, throat working as she swallows air like she needs it. Beautiful. Wrecked. Exactly where I want her to be.
“Let me see,” I say, an order softened only by how close I stay.
She understands immediately, no hesitation. She lifts her skirts higher.
I take my time then, looking her over slowly, openly. Her thighs glisten with my release, and satisfaction settles in my chest.
“Look at you,” I say quietly, approval threading my voice. “All undone, ruined, and covered in my spend. Exactly how you should be.”
Her pulse jumps at that. She doesn’t lift her eyes, but I can feel the weight of the words sink into her all the same.
I step closer again, slower this time. I straighten her cap, fingers brushing her temple as I tuck stray strands back into place. I smooth the fall of her sex-tousled skirts, coaxing the fabric into order, then take the ties of her bodice and lace them properly, my touch steady and unhurried.
I press a single, quick kiss to her shoulder, more punctuation than comfort. Enough to steady her. Meant only for that, and nothing that asks for more.
