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“I need to move, Isla,” he murmured.

The need for more overtook her. She put her hands on his shoulders, and he withdrew slowly, almost to the tip. She whimpered at the loss of him, feeling empty.

“What do ye want, little rebel?”

“Alisdair,” she moaned. “Please.”

She didn’t even know what she was begging for, but she knew her body craved the pleasure he could give her.

He pushed back into her, slow and deep, and she dug her nails into his skin.

“Isla,” he groaned.

He pushed up to look into her eyes before claiming her mouth. He found a rhythm, steady, slow, deliberate. Each thrust filled and stretched her so deliciously.

“Oh, husband,” she whispered against his lips.

“Aye, wife,” he purred. “Ye are mine.”

He quickened his pace, and she clung to him, little whimpers spilling past her lips. Her hips rose to meet him, and he let out a growl.

“Damn little rebel, have mercy.”

She could feel him trembling from the sheer effort of holding back, could see the sheen of sweat across his forehead. She lifted her hips again, feeling hit a spot deep inside her.

The wet slap of skin against skin filled the room.

“Alisdair!”

Pressure coiled low in her stomach, building each time he bottomed inside her. Her nails raked across his back, and he hissed in delight.

“Please…”

“I want to please ye, little rebel. Tell me what ye want.”

“More,” she begged.

He growled low and shifted her so that he could drive deeper into her, only to hold back, fisting his hands in the furs on either side of her head. She wanted him to lose control, watch him unleashed.

“Ye would never hurt me,” she said, looking deep into his eyes.

Alisdair looked at her, breathing heavily. She nodded, then lifted just enough to press her lips to his neck, finding the spot that made him moan low in his throat. She felt the exact moment his restraint snapped.

His hips drove forward, his thrusts turning urgent, almost feral. He knelt on the bed and pushed her knees back to her chest, then slammed into her hard, low guttural sounds tearing from his chest.

“Oh!” Isla cried out.

The pressure in her belly coiled so tight until it became almost unbearable. Her inner walls clenched around him greedily.

“Ye grip me so tight, little rebel.”

He changed the angle and lowered one hand to her sex, his thumb finding her nub and massaging it. She let out a sob of pleasure.

“It feels…” She had no words for that feeling.

“I ken, Isla,” he purred. “Let go.”

“So close…”