Page 23 of Wed to the Highlander
She was ready to welcome him, but when she felt the daunting press of him, more than she thought she could bear, she tensed.
Panic dimmed her desire. “Wait,” she whispered.
He stilled immediately, his forehead resting against hers. “We stop if you say so. Always.”
She nodded, breathing hard. “I want this. I do,” she insisted.
He kissed her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. “I’ll guide you, Maggie. Just relax and let me in, little by little.”
He moved with exquisite care, easing into her with shallow strokes. The first stretch burned—sharp, unfamiliar. She clung to him, and it started to ease, then there was a pinch of pain.
“You’re perfect,” he crooned, his deep burr soothing as he sank in farther and stilled. “That’s all of me.”
“Good because I think you’ve run out of room.”
He propped on his elbows. With his hands gently framing her face, he gazed down at her. “We’ll wait until you’re used to me inside you.”
His face was strained, and she could tell the slow pace was difficult.
“How long will that take?”
He laughed softly. “A lifetime, if we’re blessed. I never want you to get used to me—never bored, never dulled by routine. I should have said we’ll wait until the pain eases.”
“It has.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. I actually feel like I, uh, need to move.”
His grin was slow and devastating before he kissed her deeply and thoroughly. He said into her mouth, “Now for the best part. But we’ll start slow.”
He moved inside her, and the discomfort ebbed, replaced by a strange fullness, and a heat that began to pulse. Pleasure bloomed slowly. A flicker at first then building to a wave. She arched into him, her hips rising to meet his, voice catching in a soft moan.
Duncan shifted, bracing her thighs with his forearms, and moved deeper. Still keeping to the reserved pace, but with growing urgency. His open mouth found her neck, her collarbone, her breast. Every kiss was a promise of more. Every thrust a claiming.
She unraveled—bit by bit—until she was no longer the nervous virgin. She was Maggie the woman—wanton, alive, and wholly his.
When pleasure crested, she teetered at the peak, startled, awed, a bit uncertain, then the tether keeping her on earth snapped, and she flew. Her fingers tangled in his hair. His name tore from her throat at the sheer immensity of feeling.
Duncan experienced something, too. His body shuddered, he tensed above her, then a groan, raw and nearly primordial, rolled from his throat as he spent hotly inside her.
Entwined in a tangle of limbs and breath, bodies damp, the sheets kicked down around their ankles, they held one another. Maggie marveled that she could feel his heartbeat as well as her own.
“You’re mine at last,” he whispered, brushing hair from her brow.
She smiled, dazed and flushed. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“I’ll let you in on a little secret, lass. It gets better.”
“I don’t see how. Except… I could do without the first part. You’re very big.”
He kissed her shoulder. “I warned you.”
“You did, but I think it’s more comparable to an erupting volcano. You can’t truly appreciate the power until you’ve experienced it.”
His chuckle grew into a belly laugh.
“Why are you laughing?”
