Chapter 30 #2
She pulled back immediately, her eyes wide with sudden alarm. "Oh God, Fergus... yer shoulder, the burn."
"I daenae care about the damn shoulder," he growled out instantly, his voice fierce, his lips chasing hers back down before she could fully retreat.
Margaret laughed softly against his mouth, the bright, musical sound unraveling the very last vestige of tension remaining in his heavy frame.
The flickering hearth cast dancing shadows across the room, illuminating the rich tapestries depicting Highland battles and the massive four-poster bed draped in deep green wool.
Margaret's heart hammered against her ribs as Fergus's calloused fingers traced the line of her jaw, his touch sending sparks through her veins.
"Mo ghràdh," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her bones.
My love.
The endearment hung between them in the fire-warmed air as he lowered his head, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that tasted of whiskey and desire. Margaret melted against him, her hands tangling in the thick red hair that fell to his broad shoulders.
Fergus's hands moved to the laces of her gown, his fingers working with practiced efficiency. The rough wool pooled at her feet, followed by the thin linen shift beneath. Margaret shivered as the cool air kissed her bare skin, her nipples tightening to hard peaks.
Fergus's gaze swept over her, his eyes darkening with hunger.
"So beautiful," he breathed, his hands cupping her breasts, thumbs circling the sensitive peaks.
Margaret arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips.
His mouth followed his hands, hot and demanding as he took one nipple between his teeth, biting down just enough to send a jolt straight to her core.
Margaret's fingers fumbled with the ties of his leine, desperate to feel his skin against hers.
The coarse linen fell away to reveal a chest dusted with red hair, muscles honed from years of swordplay and riding the Highland hills. She traced the scars that mapped his body, each one a story she knew by heart.
Fergus settled between her thighs, his hardness pressing against her through his trews. Margaret rocked against him, friction building a delicious ache deep inside. His mouth claimed hers again, tongues tangling in a dance as old as time.
With a swift motion, he shed his remaining clothes, his manhood springing free. Thick and proud, curving upward toward his navel. Margaret's mouth watered at the sight, her folds clenching with anticipation.
Fergus positioned himself at her entrance, teasing her with shallow thrusts that had her writhing beneath him.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice thick with desire.
Margaret's eyes met his as he pushed inside, inch by enticing inch. She gasped at the stretch, her body adjusting to his size. He filled her completely, reaching that spot deep inside that made stars burst behind her eyelids.
Fergus began to move, slow at first, then faster as her hips rose to meet his. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with Margaret's cries and Fergus's guttural groans. The bedframe creaked in rhythm with their lovemaking, the sound echoing off the stone walls.
Margaret wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. The angle changed, and suddenly, he was hitting her clit with every thrust. Pleasure built rapidly, coiling in her belly like a spring about to snap.
Fergus reached between them, his thumb finding her swollen nub and circling it in time with his strokes.
"Come for me, Maggie," he growled, his accent thickening with passion. "Let me feel you."
The combination of his cock pounding into her and his fingers working her clit sent Margaret over the edge. Her back arched off the bed, a silent scream tearing from her throat as waves of pleasure crashed over her. Her clit clenched around him, milking his manhood as her orgasm ripped through her.
Fergus followed her over, his thrusts becoming erratic as his own release approached. With a final deep thrust, he buried himself inside her, his manhood pulsing as he filled her with his cum. Margaret felt the warmth spreading through her, prolonging her own pleasure.
They collapsed together, limbs tangled, bodies slick with sweat. Fergus rolled to the side, pulling Margaret with him so she lay draped across his chest. His heart beat a steady rhythm against her ear, gradually slowing as their breathing returned to normal.
Margaret traced patterns on his chest, her fingers tangling in the crisp hair. "Mo laoch," she whispered.
My hero.
Fergus's arms tightened around her, his lips pressing a kiss to her forehead.
"Always," he promised, his voice thick with emotion. "Always."
The fire had burned low, casting the room in a warm glow. Margaret felt sleep pulling at her, but she fought it off, wanting to savor these moments in his arms.
Outside, the Highland wind howled, but in here, wrapped in Fergus's embrace, Margaret had never felt safer or more loved.
As her eyes drifted closed, she knew that no matter what challenges they faced, this—their love, their passion—would see them through.