Page 41 of Highland Yule

She trembled uncontrollably before waves of release washed over her, carrying her on a sensual journey she never could have imagined. Gone, adrift somewhere of his making, she gazed into Colmac’s eyes as came over her and spread her thighs wider.

She had heard lying with a man for the first time was painful, but when he pressed forward, she barely felt a pinch. Thanks to the lingering pleasure he had invoked, instead of tensing, she relaxed as he slowly stretched and filled her.

Once fully seated, he stopped moving and cupped her cheek. “Are ye well, lass?”

“Aye,” she said hoarsely, overly aware of every inch of him inside her, caught by the feel of being filled so completely. “Verra well indeed.”

He kissed her once, twice, then a third time before he began moving and made what she had felt prior pale in comparison. She had imagined such intimacy feeling all sorts of ways, but nothing like this. Nothing like the feeling of staring into his eyes, immersed in the wondrous sensations his thrusts invoked.

When he rolled his hips and moved faster, the inferno she had felt before turned to blazing fire in her veins. She figured it impossible to feel more, but every moment that passed, every thrust, drove more and more sensation into her.

More need and lust she did not know she was capable of.

“Colmac,” she groaned through clenched teeth, spreading her legs even wider, wanting more.

He moved faster still, his arm muscles bulging while he rode her. Sweat slicked their skin, and boundless passion fueled her. Desperate, needing the pinnacle she raced toward, she wrapped her legs around him and gripped his strong forearms.

In, out, over and over, they raced toward a crescendo until it struck.

Teetering on the edge, she released a sob of pleasure and arched when unparalleled ecstasy broke over her. Bliss ravaged his features, and he thrust one last time, locking up inside her. Trembling, pleasure kept coursing through her, the sensation only heightened by the feel of his throbbing cock filling her with hot seed. They stayed that way for some time, him deep inside her, their hearts pounding, their breathing labored, until he eventually pulled her into his arms.

“I think I will verra much enjoy strengthening our clan with ye,” she murmured, running her fingers languidly along his chest. “Making all the wee bairns that entails.”

“Aye, lass.” He smiled and stroked her hair. “We will work at it often.”

She met his smile. “I hope so.”

“No need to hope.” He brushed his lips across hers. “I intend to have ye in our bed as often as possible, wife.”

“That sounds verra promising, husband.”

“It does.” He gazed into her eyes. “I love ye verra much, lass.” He wrapped his fingers with hers and brushed the pad of his thumb over the ring. “Ye truly do hold my heart.”

“As ye hold mine,” she murmured. “’Til the end of my days.”

They spent the night loving each other. Sometimes eating, drinking, and laughing. Other times wrapped around each other in bed, exploring one another. Though he did not take her again, claiming she needed time to heal, he brought her to release in all sorts of other creative ways.

So it was as the merry pipes echoed on the wind and snow fell in twirling drifts, their life started anew together on the eve that was always meant to be theirs.

They had been given a cherished gift they would never forget.

A special Hogmanay that would forever remain in their hearts.

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