Page 159 of The Washwoman at the River’s End

“I will avenge you,” I say, trailing kisses down her neck, between her breasts. “I will make her rue the day she ever turned her eyes your way. I dinnae care that she holds the fate of the realm in her hands. If the realm must end to get your justice, so be it.”

She doesn’t answer, gasping as I kiss her dàn of immortality, and she arches against me, threading her hands in my hair. I lower the front of her dress, exposing her breasts. I kiss her pebbled nipples, exploring her body with my mouth and tongue. I want to take my time, to explore every inch of her skin, but there’s a need building inside me I've never felt before.

I suck a nipple into my mouth, feral. Nothing more than an animal, driven by a pure, primal need.

“Fates,” she says, as I suck harder.

“No.” I pull back, staring into her eyes. “I am your fate,” I growl, chest heaving. She nods, and the need to claim her with not just my body, but my words grows overwhelming. I pull off her dress fully, my hand dipping between her legs, and curse when she’s wet and warm against my fingertips.

She sucks in a sharp breath, and I still, but she pushes her hips up, a soft moan slipping between her kiss-swollen lips.

I'm reminded of the noises she made when I touched her above her clothing. The night I thought I’d doomed my soul to hell for pleasuring the woman I’d vowed to kill.

She'd been more restrained then. But now she is uninhibited. More gorgeous than I could've ever pictured, her cheeks flushed and her body writhing beneath my hand. Could it be possible she needs me as much as I need her? No, I dinnae think it is.

I have never needed anything like I need this.

Not even my vengeance. Something I was determined to risk my verra soul for.

And yet, I would risk so much more for this woman.

I plunge a finger inside her, unable to wait a single second longer, and she cries out. The sound shoots straight to my groin, but it’s not enough.

I need more. Need to hear my name tumble from her mouth as she comes undone. Need to taste her. To mark her as mine, and mine alone.

My cock strains as I lower myself, spreading her legs.

“Brennen.” She looks at me, eyes almost sad through her haze of desire. “You just lost… You don't need to⁠—”

“Dinnae need to?” I growl, spreading her wider. “I need to taste you unlike I’ve needed anything before. I need to taste you more than I need my next heartbeat.” I dip my head, pressing a kiss to her center. “I dinnae want my next heartbeat if I cannae have you first.”

I lean closer, speaking against the side of her thigh, “You have carved me hollow, scraping me raw until I’m empty, nothing more than a vessel waiting to be filled by you. You cannae possibly understand how much I need to,” I say, and her head falls back as my tongue finds the sensitive bundle of nerves between her legs. She cries out as I once again press a finger inside her, and the sound she makes is everything.

She is everything.

More than I could have ever hoped my broken heart would find again, and I feel like I am the one going mad as she moves beneath me, tightening around my fingers. I flick and swirl my tongue, devouring her, pressing my hand down on her stomach to keep her from bucking away, and finally, she cries out my name.

The pleasure of that sound on her lips unravels any control I have left, and I quirk my fingers, sending her over the edge. She arches up, near out of control as her walls tighten and pulse, the most beautiful noise I've ever heard leaving her throat. She rides my hand through the waves of pleasure, and I keep my fingers pumping, wringing out every last bit I can manage.

But I am far from done with her.

When I crawl back up her body, there's hunger still burning in her eyes. She reaches toward me, but I stop her. “Stay there,” I say, needing to look at all of her. To take in the sight of her bare before me, this time, without the guilt and shame.

Never taking my eyes from her body, I remove my tunic, my boots, and the dagger at my thigh. She watches me, her eyes dark, her chest rising and falling.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” I ask. Stopping now would surely kill me, but after everything she’s been through, I cannae bear to make another move without her knowing exactly what I crave. Without her being in control.

She nods, letting her legs fall apart, and I grow impossibly, painfully harder. “Goddess below,” I rasp. I dinnae even have the willpower to remove my kilt. Kneeling before her. I lift her leg, pressing a kiss to the marred skin of her ankle.

“I will free you from this chain if it’s the last thing I do,” I rasp, trailing my tongue up her calf, her thigh. I kiss her center, still sensitive, her breasts. I taste every freckle across her nose and cheeks, and then, once again, I claim her mouth, my hands fisting in her wild, beautiful hair.

“I'm sorry I ever doubted you. I know who you are.” I say, lining myself up with her entrance. “I've known it for a long time. I just couldnae see clearly enough to realize it.”

“Don't apologize,” she says, trailing her hand down my face.

I turn my head to kiss the palm of her hand. “I'll spend every day apologizing for the hurt I've caused you. I will give you more joy, more pleasure than you can possibly imagine.” I press into her, only an inch or so, and it is the most divine moment I have ever experienced. “A century’s worth. Two,” I say, pushing in further, savoring the way her body stretches around mine. The heat that envelopes me is a gift from the goddess herself, a pleasure I have never felt before, and as I find the end of her, I pause, committing every sensation to memory.

“You are mine, mo chridhe,” I whisper into her neck.