Epilogue #2
His throat suddenly tight with emotion, Bull clung to his father, the man who’d raised him from the age of sixteen, the man who’d shaped him into who he was today. “Thanks to ye, Da.”
“Nay.” Griffin cleared his throat and straightened, holding Bull at arms’ length. “Ye would have gotten here on yer own, but ye had…” He glanced around the room significantly. “Help. So many people here love ye, laddie. We’re all proud of ye, no’ just yer mother and me.”
This room…
This room, here at Endymion, was full of the people who mattered most. Bull had spent the last two decades calling these people his aunts and uncles…
and now, he realized that’s exactly who they were.
His family. Hell, to be honest, he was related to half of them already, thanks to some complicated family trees that were more like tangled vines, and now thanks to his marriage, he was related to the other half.
But more than relatives, they were the people who supported him, who teased him, who believed in him. And that mattered.
Bull’s hands rose to clasp his father’s forearms, and he squeezed. “Thank ye. Thank ye for being here.”
Griffin nodded once, then cleared his throat and stepped back. “Right. Now go spend some time with yer wife before she perishes from loneliness.”
Bull made a show of glancing down at her in surprise. “Lonely? Ye’re lonely, my love?”
“Positively distraught,” Rose sighed forlornly. “I am languishing. Lawks.”
Hiding his smile, Bull swept her into his arms. “For fook’s sake, Rose, why did ye no’ say something?” he asked as they whirled into a waltz. “I cannae have my new wife languishing. No’ before our ten-year anniversary. Makes me look bad, ye ken.”
“Well, we would not want that.” Rose managed to stretch up and kiss his cheek before he twirled them away from another couple. “By the way, your father forgot to mention something important.”
“Aye?” Bull held her gaze, content to merely stare into her lovely gaze for the rest of the day. “And what’s that?”
“All these people are here because they love you, love us, Bull. Love what we found together. We share the same friends and family.”
He slowed his steps, keeping her in one place as they danced, so he could focus on her words. “Aye, and we’re lucky for it. Nae debates over where to spend Hogmanay.” Since they all always spent it together anyhow.
“I mean…” Her hand rose to cup his cheek.
“These people are here because you are important to them. You have helped so many of us, brought us together. Half of us would not be family if not for your interference over the years. Do you realize that? You are the reason we are able to be together. You, Bull. You have been the heart of us all along.”
Fook.
Bull’s eyes had gone wide as he stared down at his new wife. “What? Nay…”
Her lips curled. “Yes. If you think about your history with all of us—starting way back when you decided to escort Honoria to London to spring Crowe from prison—you will see I am telling the truth.”
Bull shook himself and began to waltz again, trying to push away her praise. “How do ye ken about that? Ye’re no’ supposed to ken about that!”
“I am your wife, Bull,” Rose laughed, her hand tight in his as she smiled up at him. “And a fairly good detective, I have it on good authority.”
“Aye, the best,” he agreed, bending down to kiss her.
Her words, her praise…he would have to consider her claims. Later. When he wasn’t holding his bride, tasting her—
“Stop kissing my daughter, ye execrable cockwobbler!” came the roar from the fern, and Bull was chuckling as he straightened and swept Rose into the dance again.
“He really does like you, you know,” Rose said through her laughter. “He is just shite at expressing things like that.”
Bull glanced over her shoulder to where Georgia was arguing with Demon in hushed voices, while her sister Danielle and brother-in-law Fawkes looked on with smirks. “So how is he acclimatizing to having me as a son-in-law?”
“Oh, he hates it,” his bride said cheerfully. “But as I think he probably would have murdered any other man to marry me, I would say you are doing well.”
Huh. Well. That was good. “He must be miserable, hosting this many people at Endymion.”
“I cannot even begin to imagine what mother had to promise him to make it happen.”
“Something truly depraved, most likely.” Having grown up surrounded by loving couples—the people in this room right now—Bull had become used to ignoring the sights and sounds of physical love, and now he chuckled even as Rose rolled her eyes.
“I’ll make ye a promise, my Rose. When it’s time for our daughter—or daughters—to find love, I’ll no’ stand in their way.” Or tell the man who loves her that he’s no’ good enough. “As long as they have a stable future, I’ll trust her to build a forever.”
Rose blinked tear-filled eyes up at him.
“A stable future, and a good name, one he’s earned,” Bull added thoughtfully, teasing her. “And a nice fat bank account. And a title, perhaps. And—”
“Thank you, Bull. Things like that…”
When she trailed off, Bull’s grin grew. “What?”
“It is why you are my favorite forever.”
He lowered his lips to hers, as a voice in the background bellowed, “He’s doing it again!”
The fire crackled behind her, and Rosie knew the flames silhouetted her body through the thin, almost sheer silk of her nightgown. She’d chosen it specifically for this effect—the pale green fabric clinging to her curves, leaving little to the imagination.
Diaphanous.
The door opened and Bull stepped inside, wearing a dark blue dressing robe. His eyes widened as he took her in, his gaze traveling from her tousled short hair down to her bare feet, and back up again.
“Fook me sideways,” he breathed.
“I believe that is the plan,” Rosie replied, her lips curving. “I might need a hand with the sideways, though.”
He laughed, the sound warm and familiar, easing the flutter of nerves in her stomach. “Did I tell ye how beautiful ye looked today?”
“Only about twenty times.” She stepped toward him. “And I must say, you looked rather magnificent yourself in that kilt.”
“Thank ye. It’s my own design, actually.”
Rosie reached for the tie of his robe, slowly pulling it loose as excitement built within her. “You know, I’d like to commission someone to make me a gown from that plaid. Do you know anyone who could design me something truly magnificent?”
“I’d be honored, wife,” Bull murmured, his hands sliding up her arms as he lowered his head to her neck.
His lips brushed the sensitive skin there, and she shivered.
“Though right now, I’m thinking less about designing clothing, and more about taking it off.
Do ye ken how delicious ye look in this? ”
“Thank you,” she gasped as his touch slid down her throat. “It was a scandalously inappropriate gift from my Aunt Eliza.”
Bull chuckled against her skin. “Remind me to thank her later. Much later.”
He slipped the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders. The silk whispered down her body to pool at her feet, leaving her naked in the firelight.
Her husband’s hands cupped her face as he kissed her deeply, his tongue sliding against hers. She pushed his robe off his shoulders, eager to feel his skin against hers. When the fabric fell away, she pressed herself against him, feeling his cock already hard between them.
Yes.
“Bed,” he growled against her mouth, and she obeyed.
They moved together toward the large four-poster bed and Bull lifted her onto the mattress. She scooted backward, her hair spreading across the pillows as he climbed over her. The weight of him settling between her thighs felt right, made to measure, perfect.
“My wife,” he murmured, his gray eyes intense as he stared down at her. There was something reverent in his expression, almost awed, and it made her heart squeeze.
“My husband,” she whispered back, reaching up to trace his jaw.
Bull kissed her again, slower this time, as his hand slid down her body. His fingers found her already wet, and when he stroked through her folds, she gasped into his mouth.
“So ready for me,” he praised, circling her clitoris with his thumb as he slid two fingers inside her. “Always so perfect.”
Rosie’s hips lifted off the bed, eagerly chasing his touch. He stroked that spot inside her that made her toes curl, his fingers moving with practiced skill. The pleasure built quickly, her body remembering his touch, craving it.
He always knew just what she wanted.
“Bull, please,” she gasped. “I—I need you inside me.”
He withdrew his fingers, positioning himself between her spread thighs. The head of his cock pressed against her entrance, and he paused, his gaze holding hers.
“Ready, love?”
“Always,” she breathed.
He pushed inside her in one slow, steady stroke, filling her completely. The stretch was delicious, familiar now yet still intense. Rosie moaned, her hands gripping his shoulders as he sheathed himself fully.
“Fook, ye feel good,” Bull groaned, his forehead pressing to hers. “Never getting tired of this—of ye.”
He started to move, pulling out almost completely before sliding back in. Each stroke was deliberate, measured, as if he wanted to savor every second. The angle meant the base of his cock dragged against her clitoris with each thrust, and Rosie felt the pleasure building steadily.
A pleasure she was more than ready to receive.
“More,” she urged, her legs wrapping around his hips to pull him deeper.
Bull complied, his pace increasing. His cock filled her over and over, hitting that perfect spot inside that made her breath catch. She could hear the wet sounds of him moving inside her, could feel the heat of his body above her, the strength in his arms as he braced himself.
“Love ye,” he rasped, his lips brushing her temple, her cheek, her jaw. “My Rose. My wife. Mine.”
“Yours,” she agreed, her nails digging into his back. “And you are mine. Forever.”
His thrusts grew deeper, more purposeful, and she felt the tension coiling tight in her belly.
Every stroke of his cock against her inner walls sent sparks of pleasure through her body.
The pressure of him grinding against her clitoris with each downward thrust was driving her higher and higher, and oh God, she was ready.
“That’s it, love,” Bull encouraged, his voice strained. “Feel how good we are together. How perfect.”
She did. She felt every inch of him sliding in and out, felt the way her body gripped him, welcoming him. The friction was exquisite, building that familiar pressure that threatened to overwhelm her.
Bull shifted slightly, changing the angle, and suddenly every thrust hit exactly where she needed it. Rosie cried out, her back arching off the mattress.
“Right there,” she gasped. “Please—please do not stop!”
“Never,” he promised, maintaining that perfect rhythm. His hand slid between them, his thumb finding her clitoris and pressing down in a circling motion—hard.
The added stimulation was all she needed. Rosie’s climax crashed over her, her inner muscles clamping down around his cock as pleasure flooded through her body. She felt herself pulsing around him, felt the wetness coating his length as she came.
“Bull!” she cried, her hands clutching at him desperately.
As always, the sensation of her walls tightening around him triggered his own release. With a groan that rumbled through his chest and emerged in triumph, Bull thrust deep one final time. She felt his cock pulse inside her, felt the heat of his seed filling her as he emptied himself.
Into her. Into their future.
“Rose,” he breathed, his hips jerking with the aftershocks. “My Rose.”
They stayed locked together, breathing hard, their bodies slick with sweat. Bull’s weight pressed her into the mattress, and she loved the feeling of being surrounded by him, filled by him.
Finally he rolled to the side, pulling her with him so she was tucked against his chest. His softening cock slipped from her, and she felt the wetness between her thighs—evidence of their joining.
“Mrs. Lindsay,” Bull murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair. “How does it feel?”
Rosie smiled against his chest, her hand resting over his heart. “Perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
She was his now. Truly, completely his. And he was hers.
Forever.