Epilogue #2
“Aye.” Elijah reached her, his hands going to her waist. “I’m goin’ to kiss ye until yer lips are swollen.
Touch ye until ye forget yer own name. Make ye scream me name so loud half the castle hears.
And then I’m goin’ to do it all over again, until there’s nay doubt in anyone’s mind that ye belong to me. ”
“Elijah…” Piper’s protest died as his mouth found hers, hot and demanding.
This wasn’t like their previous kisses—gentle or desperate or sweet. This was possession. Pure, primal claiming.
Elijah’s tongue invaded her mouth, tasting, exploring, dominating. His hands moved from her waist to her back, finding the laces of her gown and beginning to work them loose with surprising dexterity.
“I’ve been dreamin’ about this,” he murmured against her lips. “About gettin’ ye out of this dress. About seein’ all of ye, touchin’ all of ye. Do ye have any idea how hard it’s been? Knowin’ ye were just down the corridor, knowin’ I could come to ye but couldnae claim ye?”
“I… I wanted ye too,” Piper gasped as cool air hit her back, the dress beginning to loosen.
His palm rose to cradle her jaw, thumb dragging across the seam of her lips as if testing their softness. The rough pad traced back and forth, spreading heat until her mouth parted on a shaky exhale.
She tasted the faint salt of his skin and, without thinking, flicked her tongue against it. A groan tore from his throat; then she was against the wall, stone cool through her thin gown, while the man radiated furnace-heat at her front.
He dove for her mouth again, no timid exploration, no asking.
Lips slanted, captured, claimed. His tongue drove inside, curling around hers, retreating so she followed, then thrusting again in a rhythm that left no doubt what he wanted.
Piper tangled her fingers in his dark hair, tugging hard enough to sting. He answered by grinding his hips, letting her feel the heavy ridge straining beneath his tartan.
One broad hand slid to the small of her back, arching her into him; the other roamed upward, its knuckles grazing the underside of her breast through layers of wool and linen until her nipple pearled traitorously.
Elijah tore from the kiss, panting, eyes black with intent. “Ye’re mine.”
The words vibrated against her throat as he bent to nip the tender curve where shoulder met neck. Teeth scraped, then soothed with a swirl of his tongue; each small bite sent sparks skittering across her skin.
She felt the edge of possession in every tug of his mouth, each mark blooming into a brand she’d wear for days. Her fingers curled against his shoulders, nails denting hard muscle through linen, and he rewarded the tiny pain with a growl that made her stomach clench.
His hands dropped to her laces. Deft tugs loosened the gown; the neckline sagged, exposing the upper swell of her breasts pushed high by stays. Breath hissed between his teeth.
“Beautiful.” The reverent murmur contrasted with the hunger in his eyes as he peeled the fabric lower.
Her nipples, already tight, beaded harder in the sweep of cool air. Rather than unhooking the corset, he bent, his mouth fastening over one cloth-covered peak, sucking damp heat through the weave until she whimpered.
She felt her thighs go wet. She rolled her hips instinctively, seeking friction, and felt his answering throb.
“I’m goin’ to taste every bit of ye,” he promised, his lips finding her ankle. “Goin’ to make ye mine in every way there is.”
His mouth moved up her leg, kissing and nipping. Piper’s hands fisted in the furs beneath her, her breath coming faster.
When he reached her thighs, when his breath ghosted over her most intimate place, Piper let out a sound that was half-gasp, half-moan.
“Elijah… Please…”
“Please, what?” His eyes met hers, dark with desire. “Tell me what ye want, wife.”
“I want ye. All of ye. Please.”
“Then ye’ll have me,” Elijah promised. “All of me. Forever.”
“Elijah…” The name left her on a tremor when he bit gently, then soothed the sting with a flick of tongue. Pride warred with impulse; nervousness won for a heartbeat. “I’ve… I’ve never done this.”
He stilled, his lips hovering above the damp circle his mouth had left. He raised his head and caught her gaze, and the tender reverence she found there steadied her more than any promise. “Then we’ll go slow, lass. Until ye beg me nae to.”
The roguish quirk of his mouth stole the last of her fear, replacing it with curiosity blazing bright.
His palms skimmed down her ribs to gather fistfuls of skirt. Wool and linen whispered upward, cool air kissing her calves, her knees, the soft skin above her stockings.
When he bunched the fabric at her waist, she felt the quick tug of his belt; his plaid slumped away, puddling around booted feet. Sprung free, his manhood jutted thick and ruddy, a bead of moisture glistening at the slit.
Piper’s breath caught, equal parts intimidation and fascination. He gave her no time to doubt: hands beneath her thighs, lifting, guiding her legs around his hips until her slippers dangled an inch above the rushes.
“Hold tight, me lady.”
The rough order vibrated through her bones as he pinned her to the wall with his weight.
Flesh met flesh; his manhood nudged her soaked folds, sliding through slickness, once, twice, spreading her moisture. He paused, crown kissing her entrance, muscles quivering with restraint.
“Ready?” A single syllable, wielded with tenderness.
Piper swallowed, then nodded, locking her ankles at the small of his back. He pressed forward. The stretch burned with exquisite intensity as her body bloomed open around unfamiliar girth.
“Ahh…” She dug her nails into his nape, grounding herself as inch by slow inch he forged deeper, parting untried walls, until he was seated to the hilt. Fullness stole her breath; pulse fluttered around the invading thickness.
Elijah’s forehead rested against hers; his breath sawed in and out. “Are ye all right?”
She shifted experimentally, pleasure eclipsing ache. “More,” she whispered, her voice thin with wonder.
He withdrew, then rocked back in, steady but gentle.
Each forward stroke grew surer, the depth measured by the catch of her breath, the flutter of her knees.
Stone abraded her shoulders through her gown, but the sting only heightened the sensation concentrated where they joined.
He kept one arm banded beneath her bottom, the other braced beside her head, his biceps bunching as he moved.
The cadence built: slick slide, soft slap of skin, her helpless whimpers weaving with his guttural groans.
“Ye grip me so tight, so wet,” he rasped, angling his hips so the next thrust brushed a place inside her that shattered vision into bright sparks.
Her head thudded back; her eyes rolled, unseeing, as coiling heat compressed tighter and tighter. Sweat glazed the hollow between her breasts, where his chest hair rasped delicate flesh. Piper felt herself teetering on a precipice she had never approached, muscles tensing, breath suspended.
“Let go,” he commanded, voice gravel. “Come for me, Piper. Milk me like a good lass.”
The filthy benediction snapped the coil.
Release crashed through her; her inner walls clenched, rippling along his length. She cried out, a raw, unraveling sound that echoed off the stone, her hips jerking as wave after wave pulsed.
Elijah drove into her once, then twice more, then buried himself to the root, swelling impossibly. His roar spilled into her neck as hot spurts bathed her depths, claiming, marking, and binding.
They stayed locked, trembling in the hush that followed, heartbeats thudding against each other’s skin.
Slowly, he eased her legs down, steadying her as they wobbled, then swept her into his arms. Striding to the curtained alcove bed, he laid her on linen sheets that smelled faintly of heather. Cool air kissed her damp thighs; soreness twinged, but contentment weighed heavier.
Elijah stretched beside her, tugging her against his chest. The kiss he pressed to her mouth was languid and reverent, tasting of shyness shed and secrets traded. Sunlight shifted across their tangled limbs like liquid gold, warming flesh marked by passion and promise.
Outside, the ceilidh and the people waited; inside, only breaths mingled, the silent pledge that nothing would ever be the same.
Piper threaded her fingers through his hair, replaying the delicious burn between her thighs, and knew she already hungered for the next lesson her Highlander would teach.
“Mine,” he murmured against her lips, drowsy yet fierce.
“Yers,” she answered, and sealed the vow with a kiss.
The End?