Chapter Twenty-Two
In which this is the wedding night we’ve all been waiting for.
Scarlett…
Wallace moves, lightning quick and scoops me up. Mindlessly, I grab his hair, pulling him back to me so I can kiss his mouth again, those perfect, full lips. My legs and arms wind around him like a snake and I can feel him, hard and hot already, rubbing against me as he takes me inside the house.
I giggle against his mouth as he turns towards the stairs and then apparently decides the couch is good enough.
His enormous bear paw hands are on my ass, squeezing me, rubbing me against the monster growing in his pants.
We end up falling on to the couch, I’m straddling him, still rubbing, rubbing…
“Do ye like this dress?”
I look down at it. “I don’t know. Sort of- oh!”
He rips it down the center, pulling me toward him, his lips fastening against my breast, sucking my nipple through the sheer material of my bra.
I freeze for a moment, feeling the silk slide down my back. It’s all muscle memory now… I shake my hair, making sure it’s covering my back.
His hot mouth is on my other nipple now and he impatiently yanks the bra down, biting my nipple delicately, and tugging.
My hands slap down on the back of the couch, nails digging furrows into the expensive leather.
It hurts, a burn though, not something he needs to stop because his other hand slides into my undies, his calloused thumb circling my clitoris.
He tugs on my nipple again, and then bites the underside of my breast, every nerve ending firing wildly like a roman candle.
“Should I stop?”
“Huh?” My voice is hoarse, I barely recognize it, but Wallace sounds controlled. His thumb slows to a stop and my thighs clench against his hips.
“No! Don’t. More.” I arch my pelvis toward his thumb until he presses down on it, hard, and heat flutters through me.
The prelude to something. He bites the spot where my neck and shoulder meet and I groan.
I’ve never been this greedy, pulling on his thick hair, feeling him chuckle, his mouth against my throat and the vibration of it tickling over my skin.
Pushing me up to stand, Wallace impatiently yanks his belt loose and my hand joins him, fingers fumbling to open his pants until we both get him unzipped. He pulls his cock loose from his boxer briefs and I stare.
He’s thick. His hand is stroking up and down it as I shamelessly watch, his thumb gathering pre-come from the tip to slick down the sides, a pulsing vein runs underneath.
I yank his shirt open so I can run my fingers down his skin, curving over the hills and valleys of his gloriously sculpted chest and I stare like a pervert as he squeezes and pulls on that amazing cock.
My fingers trace the V shape of his Adonis belt and meet at the base, my fingers circling him, too.
Surging forward, he kisses me again, shoving the fabric of my undies aside and thrusts two fingers inside me. I’m shameless, clamping down on them, trying to keep him inside me as he rubs his rough fingertips against my wet channel.
“Slick, and hot,” he groans. “Squeezing my fingers. How will my cock feel inside ye?”
There’s a spark in his eyes, something devilish as he pulls his fingers free, shoving them in my mouth. “No screaming, wife. Ye dinnae want to startle the wildlife.”
Looking over my shoulder, I realize we left the French doors wide open, the cool night air feels good against my skin.
I reflexively bite down on his fingers, still in my mouth as he yanks my undies off, the flimsy material ripping easily before he pulls me down to straddle him.
The broad head of him fits just inside me, throbbing, teasing me until Wallace puts his hand on my waist, pulling me down on him slowly.
Impaling me, stretching me wide and the sting and burn is back.
He’s watching his cock disappear inside me, teeth clenched.
“Feck, the feel of ye, wife. Clenched tight on me like a fist.” My thighs spread wider as he keeps pulling me down. That has to be the end of him, there’s no more room inside…
“Just a couple of inches more, so good for me.”
He kisses me again, distracting me, moves his thumb back to my clit, bites my earlobe and whispers all kinds of lovely filth, how he can’t wait to see his come dripping from me and it makes me shudder, tightening against him.
“You’re going to have to let me move, Luaith Bheag,” he growls. “Let me feck you and I’ll make ye come.” I try to help him, lifting with my trembling thigh muscles and he chuckles, pulling me up until only the head is still inside. And drops me.
I scream.
I don’t care what or who hears me. I scream because nothing could feel this way. One big hand goes between my breasts, over my heart as he bounces me up and down on his shaft.
“Feel it? The flame, right here?”
“I do,” I moan. “I feel it.” There’s a blaze burning bright inside me, not like the cruel curling of the smoke under the door and then the searing heat when I was trapped in the office.
This fire bursts, like a flare glowing hot.
Like the fireplace when he snapped his fingers and it roared to life.
The feel of him tearing me apart, it’s blazing, it’s burning.
It’s perfect.
“Come with me, sweet wife. I’ll make ye come again and again tonight but now, bear down, fight to keep me inside ye.”
The alchemy of his deep voice, hoarse and greedy, his fingers stroking my strained entrance and then, he pinches my clit.
The flame shoots up my spine and I come, waves and waves of pleasure scorching me and I come again because I can’t stop.
His heat sears me inside as he fills me, until just as he said, it’s dripping from me, slicking our thighs and the couch and his pants.
“Scarlett?”
“Mmmhmm?” My face is buried against his neck.
“Are ye all right? I was rougher than I should have been, our first time.” I hear his concern and laugh weakly, feeling his still hard cock move with me.
“I want to do that again, husband.”
Wallace takes me on nearly every horizontal space in the house and a few vertical ones, too. The man’s upper body strength is spectacular.
“You’re a wee fairy princess,” he says, hoisting me up and down on his cock, bracing my back against the wall outside of his bedroom. We still haven’t made it to a bed.
I laugh until I’m wheezing. “That’s the first time anyone has ever said such a thing to me.” His head’s against my shoulder as he sucks on my sore nipple. “You married a sturdy woman, husband. I’m 5”10 and by no means dainty.”
His biceps flex as he lifts me up until just the tip of him is still inside me and I shiver, remembering how hard I came when he did that to me during our first time on the couch.
His grin is savage as he drops me, sending his cock up inside me to the base, feeling the crisp hair there tickle my (also) sore clitoris.
“Dainty.”
Wrapping my legs around his narrow hips, I groan happily.
I don’t care that I’m sore as hell. I don’t care that it’s possible I may never walk again without wincing and sitting down will probably be completely out of the question.
I’m dizzy with dopamine and I'm warm, my heart filled to bursting with the sheer happiness of too many orgasms and for the man talented enough to give them to me.