Page 57 of Marry the Highland Villain
Brigid blinked at him, a shy expression on her face. “Ye…”
Conall bent and kissed her, one hand braced against the bed while the other undid his belt and let his sword and daggers clatter to the floor.
“’Tis a beautiful gown, to be sure,” he said. “But I’ve spent every moment since I saw ye comin’ toward me at the altar wishin’ I could tak’ it off ye.”
He reached out to remove her sash, then loosened her wide, woven belt and the laces of her sleeves and bodice. Then, he paused to undo his shirt ties and send his boots after his belt. His shirt and sash he laid on the side table.
Brigid reached for her dress to remove it, but Conall stopped her with a touch of his hands. “Nay, lass. I said I’ve been waitin’ totakethe dress off ye, nae to watch ye do it for me.”
Clad in only his kilt, he slid onto the bed beside her and cupped her face in his hands, pulling her in for a long, lingering kiss, letting his tongue explore the warmth of her mouth, taste the sweetness of wine and the hearty flavors of their wedding feast. Her mouth was soft and welcoming against his, her lips parting easily to give him access.
Brigid moaned softly as he stroked his hand across her still-covered breasts, then down her core to cup her through the fabric.
Conall swallowed hard at the warmth he found there, the easy way she parted her thighs under his touch. “Och…”
He slid his hand lower, kissing across her jaw and down the column of her throat and collarbone as he sought for the hem of her skirt and tugged it up until he could touch the bare skin of her leg.
He broke the kiss then, so he could place both hands on her lower legs and slowly slide them up, pushing her dress out of the way as he mapped the contours of her shapely ankles, her fleshy calves, and her knees, with their small dimples just below the joint. Then, he slid his hands further upward, caressing her soft, smooth thighs.
Brigid made a soft noise like a whimper, her thighs shifting and parting slightly under his touch.
“Conall…” she murmured, her voice low and husky with need.
“Patience, lass. I’ll nae be rushin’ this.”
He wouldn’t rush their first time together, desperate though he was for her. He wanted to give her as much pleasure as possible, so she would welcome future encounters. He knew from Emily—she’d taken him aside to give him fair warning before the ceremony—that a woman’s first time was often uncomfortable, and that it was important for a proper spouse to see that his partner enjoyed the experience enough that pleasure overwhelmed any discomfort in their memory afterward.
He slid his hands up the outer sides of her thighs, then down to cup the soft globes of her buttocks. He kneaded them softly, and Brigid made a soft, breathy sound.
He wanted to see her. All of her. Conall slid his hands further up, across her soft belly, then up her sides, feeling the way she breathed, almost panting at his touch. Then further still, untilhis thumbs were caressing her breasts, before he finally slid the dress along her raised arms and over her head.
The dress and underdress followed his shirt and sash, and Brigid lay bare before him—his own goddess of fertility, poetry, protection, and healing.
His goddess, who opened her arms and beckoned him closer.
Conall bent to kiss her again.
Conall had scarcely touched her, and already Brigid felt her blood pounding with desire. She could feel the path his hands had traced up her body, trails of warmth, like being caressed by a gentle fire, and then the contrasting coolness of the air as he drew her dress away and tossed it to the side.
She shivered, the warmth of his touch eliciting an answering heat of desire within her as his hands stroked every inch of her—all except the place she wanted him to touch the most.
He kissed her jaw, and she shivered with pleasure as he lightly nipped her earlobe. He chuckled softly, pleased by her reaction, and his laughter vibrated through her, making her skin tingle with the pleasure of the sensation.
He pressed his lips to the pulse point on her throat, and she gasped as he bit lightly, sucked, then laved the area with his tongue.
“There. Now, I’ve left a mark to claim ye as mine.”
“Ye… ye didnae need to do… och… that…” Brigid’s words faded away as he kissed her shoulder, then the hollow at the base of her throat. They deserted her entirely in another gasp as Conall closed his mouth over her right breast and suckled, then began to tease her already sensitive nipple with his teeth and tongue.
The warmth and wetness, coupled with the feel of his mouth teasing her breast into a taut peak, reduced Brigid to a moan, her body shifting against his strong, broad frame. The light scrape of his teeth sent little darts of lightning straight to her core and made her skin tingle with both delight and desire for more.
Conall shifted his attention to her left breast, and she gasped, the heat coiling in her belly, demanding more. Pressure and desire built in her core, need making her move restlessly against him, her thighs pressing together as warmth pooled in her belly and groin.
“Conall…” she gasped again, his name the only word in her mind.
He chuckled, then shifted on the bed, his hands framing her sides as he kissed between her breasts, then just below her breastbone, before flicking his tongue across her navel. Brigid arched against his mouth, the warm, rough wetness of histongue like a brand across her skin, sending heat through her body and making her skin tingle with desire and anticipation.
Soft breaths ruffled the fine hairs that adorned the mound of her sex. Brigid shivered. Nervousness made her want to close her thighs. Desire, however, demanded more.
