Sweet and Salty
Broderick wasn’t sure how long he’d lain gulping air atop his bride, willing his tarse to stay hard so he could remain inside her pulsating heat forever. Inevitably, his cock softened and coiled up happily in the warm folds of her womanhood. He stirred when she ran her fingers through the sheen of sweat on his back. “I’m too heavy, but I canna move.”
She tightened her arms around him. “Nay. I can bear yer weight.”
He raised up on his elbows and looked at her beloved face. “’Tis true ye’re a strong woman, and well bedded, I’d say.”
Her fierce blush stirred renewed interest in his sac.
“Isabel said lovemaking was wonderful, but I ne’er imagined…”
While a mon might not want to hear his mother-by-marriage’s name in his bridal bower, he was grateful to Darroch’s wife for preparing Kyla for marital relations. There was no doubt in his mind they’d both benefitted from her willingness to broach subjects many mothers preferred not to discuss with daughters.
“Neither did I,” he confessed, deeming it high time his wife knew she was his first.
She cupped his face in her hands. “Are ye saying…?”
“Aye, ye deflowered a virgin,” he quipped. “My father’s only advice was to ne’er sire bastards because it usually proved to be expensive; he boasted of the women he’d bedded, even when my mother was alive. My primary goal in life was to nay follow his example.” He winked, fearing the conversation had become too serious. “I suppose ye could say I was saving myself for marriage.”
She shook her head. “I’m humbled by it, but I also think ye were afraid to indulge in pleasures because ye might turn out to be too much like yer father.”
He rolled onto his side and kissed her fingers then pressed her hand to his heart. “But ye’ve helped me see I’m nay like him,” he said.
“What’s more,” she replied, “ye are completely mine.”
He eased her onto her side and spooned her, skin to skin. He nuzzled his nose into her nape, inhaling the fresh scent of the sea that clung to her hair. Her bottom felt cool on his tarse, her thighs smooth. He slipped a hand beneath her breast. “We’ll sleep for a while, but we’ll keep the candles lit; ’twillna be long afore I want ye again,” he whispered. “Ye’ve turned me into a rutting fool.”
She sighed contentedly. “Good. I always wanted to marry a lusty mon.”
He kissed her back. “But only with ye.”
He dozed, his heart full, dreaming of Kyla’s belly round with his bairn. He resolved to be a loving father to his children. Darroch MacKeegan would be a good role model.
He thought Kyla had fallen asleep, and was therefore surprised when she lifted her head and asked, “Does this mean ye’ve ne’er had a lass put her mouth on ye?”
Once again, there seemed to be something wrong with his voice, but his tarse responded exactly how he might have expected. She couldn’t fail to notice the swell against her bottom.
She turned to face him and cupped his sac, moving her fingers gently. “Do ye like that?” she asked.
He could only groan in response when she didn’t wait for an answer, but kissed the swollen tip of his phallus then took him into her mouth.
*
Kyla glanced up at Broderick when he sifted his fingers through her hair to prevent it falling forward. His eyes were closed. He had the look of a man deep in concentration. “I canna quite get my hand all the way around ye,” she whispered. “Am I nay doing it right?”
He opened his eyes slowly, as if waking from a trance. “There isna a wrong way,” he murmured. “Dinna stop.”
She came to her knees and went back to enjoying the taste of his salty sweetness. Moving her mouth on him echoed the rhythm they’d shared earlier and her hand seemed intent on following.
“By the saints,” he exclaimed. “I love this, but I need to be inside ye soon. Straddle me.”
She crawled forward, still amazed that his prodigious lance had actually fit inside her.
He grasped her hips and lowered her slowly onto his manhood. “Move up and down,” he whispered. “Slowly.”
They clasped hands, their fingers meshing as they moved together. Desire blossomed within her. “Ye’re touching my womb,” she told him.
“God willing, we’ll make a bairn this night,” he replied, his dark eyes bright with love.
“I have to go faster,” she pleaded after a minute or two.
“Aye. Faster.”
She thrust out her chin, and closed her eyes, intent on the pleasure building, building within.
He gripped her thighs. “Come with me,” he growled.
His seed erupted inside her at the very moment her sheath spasmed around him. Ecstasy released her and she floated on a cloud of bliss until she collapsed on top of him, deliriously exhausted. He enfolded her in the cocoon of his strong arms.
When her breathing steadied, it came to her he was stroking her hair, his heart beating in tandem with hers. “I might have screamed,” she said nervously.
“Aye,” he chuckled. “Ye did. Mightily.”
*
Any doubts Broderick may have harbored that he was expecting too much of his wife soon vanished as the night of pleasure wore on. Her passion for him seemed as insatiable as his need to join his body to hers, to fill her with his seed.
Each time he thought he didn’t have the stamina to sustain another erection, her touch was enough to send savage maleness surging through his veins and they soared together again.
The candles had guttered out when they finally fell asleep in the wee hours of the morning.
The sun was well up when he awoke, startled to see Kyla sitting cross-legged on the bed, staring at him. She’d draped his plaid around her shoulders, but otherwise she was still naked. He trailed his fingers over the golden curls at her mons and parted her folds. “A mon should wake up to this tempting vision every morn,” he drawled.
She blushed and tried to move to a different position, but he held her thigh. “I just meant the sight of a MacKeegan wearing a Maxwell plaid.”
She smiled at his jest, but then wrinkled her nose. “I’m sticky.”
He dragged his thoughts away from licking her stickiness. “We can go down to the baths, if ye like.”
She leapt from the bed. “Aye.”
“Minx,” he teased. “That’s what ye had in mind all along.”
She grinned. “And I was afraid ye were going to sleep all day.”
He rose. “Weel deserved after spending the night with an insatiable wife.”
She fluttered her eyelashes. “Was I too wanton?”
He laughed as he took her hand and led her to the door down to the baths. “Ye’re nay wanton, just passionate. On the rare occasions I allowed myself to contemplate getting married, I was resigned to wedding some laird’s daughter out of duty to provide a successor for the clan. Ye’ve blown away all those fears and made me a happy mon.”
They shivered their way down the stone steps and quickly slid into the warm water. Watching Kyla swimming, her wet hair streaming like a cloak behind her, he acknowledged he was indeed happy, for the first time in many a year. And he was confident he was destined to enjoy happiness for a long time to come.