Arran draped Delia’s thighs over his shoulders, growling the whole while. He held her gaze, as he pushed her dress high, high, until it was bunched around her waist, displaying her naked sex for his viewing pleasure.
She’d never felt so bare, or revealed, and there was something empowering about it. She had expected to feel humbled in that position, but with Arran on his knees, and the way he stared at her, like she was some beautiful mystery he could not wait to discover, she felt anything but.
“S’beautiful, chridhe.”
“Arran, please,” she whimpered, rocking her hips in a silent plea.
“Gonna taste you, love. Gonna swallow down every last delicious drop of you. You’re perfect, my sweet mate, and mine,” he growled, dropping an open-mouthed kiss onto her heated sex.
“Mine,” he said it again, licking her harder this time.
“Mine.”
Delia’s mouth opened as he claimed her with his words a third time, nuzzling her lips, and parting the slick folds with his thick fingers before thrusting one deep inside of her channel.
She moaned as his tongue lapped at her, licking a path from her forbidden hole to her clit while he finger-fucked her in time with his ministrations.
More. Yes. Mate.
Her stomach tensed as the tingling sensations he created swelled within her, bringing with them a tidal wave of heat, and promised bliss. Arran growled, the rumbling pressing against her clit as his fingers worked her faster and deeper.
He was driving her mad. Arran pushed her closer to the edge with every swipe of his clever tongue and thrust of his thick fingers into her sopping wet pussy. She felt pressure on her bottom as he kneaded her ass, circling her hole as he licked and licked and licked her closer to fruition.
“Close,” she moaned, her hands buried in his hair.
As if sensing her need, Arran pulled his fingers from her heat, switching hands and taking his soaked finger, she felt the tiniest hint of penetration in her forbidden hole. Delia cried out his name as she shattered around him.
She came hard and fast as he filled her ass and her pussy with his fingers, tapping her clit with the flat side of his tongue. She’d hardly caught her breath when he had her over his shoulder and was carrying her to his bedroom.
Once she landed on the bedspread, Delia sat up, ripping her dress off her head. Twice now, he’d made her come with her clothes on and she was desperate for his skin.
“Off,” she commanded, incapable of sentences longer than one word.
How embarrassing for a hopeful wordsmith!
Whatever.
“Mate,” Arran growled and shrugged off his pants and underwear.
The first glimpse of his body unclothed was enough to make Delia thank the gods aloud. That, of course, earned her a sharp bark of laughter from her mate.
“Approve, do you?”
“You bet,” she said, pulling him on top of her.
Giggling, they crashed onto the mattress a tangle of arms and legs. She ran her hands over his chest, memorizing every inch of his beautiful shape.
“I’m not, I mean, the other Bulls are more physical, and Herd females look for mates who are bigger, dominant—”
She could hardly believe her ears. First, the man was absolutely gorgeous. She did not know what he was on about. Second, she was head over heels for him. Couldn’t he see that?
Looks aside, Delia already felt a keen connection to Arran through his writing. She had been a fan for years, after all. There was nothing wrong with the man.
As for dominance, was he crazy? The way he’d barked at Robbie earlier and took charge of their lovemaking in the kitchen—he was plenty dominant.
“Arran, look at me,” she said, waiting for him to meet her eyes. “I don’t know what Highland Coos like,” she said, using the Scottish word for cows, “but you are the perfect male to me. You are my mate.”
“Delia,” he growled, crawling over her.
Somewhere along the way, he’d lost his glasses. He nuzzled her nose with his, teasing her lips with tiny, little sipping kisses designed to drive her wild.
“More, mate,” she demanded.
Arran smiled against her lips and kissed her deeper. Laying beneath him, she felt small, cherished as he pressed her knees open and settled between her legs.
He was still kissing her, making her weak and needy with long, lavish slides of his tongue. She felt his head pressing against her entrance, already slick with need for him.
Pressure started to build even before he rocked his hips, sliding into her sex and stretching her to accommodate his incredible girth. The man was packing, and though Delia was not a size queen, she fucking loved the weight of him as he filled her to capacity.
“Delia,” he said her name almost reverently, like a prayer as he started to move.
Push. Withdraw. Push. Withdraw. Swivel.
He pressed in all the way, rocking into her with shallow thrusts that had her whimpering. Every roll of his hips brushed her clit just right, sending spirals of heat curling through her veins. Tension built, the pressure so high she thought she’d die of it.
Arran increased his pace, thrusting harder as she arched against him. Her nails clawed his back, but he did not seem to mind. Her orgasm crashed into her just as Arran bellowed a guttural moan, his body moving jerkily as hot jets of cum filled her.
The pleasure was so intense, Delia might have blacked out for a moment or two. When she opened her eyes, Arran was on his side with her facing him, arms and legs entwined.
“That was—”
“Incredible,” he finished for her.
“Yes.”
Arran smiled—not a grin or bad boy smile, but an expression of bone-deep joy. It tugged on Delia’s heartstrings, and she found herself returning that smile. Had she ever felt happiness like this?
Never.
He pulled her closer, kissing her head first, then her eyelids. Her cheeks were next, and her nose. Her chin, her neck, and finally, her lips. He spoiled her with his kisses. Adoring her with his lips in a way she’d never experienced, and to be honest, she loved it.
Loved lying here with him in the wake of the best sex she’d ever had, bar none. Speaking of which. They hadn’t had that discussion yet. Her past was complicated for some people, though to her, nothing could be simpler.
“What are you thinking in that pretty little head of yours?” he asked.
“Well, first just wow.”
“Wow?”
“Oh yeah. I mean that, Arran, like WOW—all caps and everything.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“As you should,” she teased. “Seriously though, I was thinking there are some things about my past that maybe you should know—”
“Delia, I dinnae care about yer past,” he started.
“Well, you might,” she said, pausing so he would see she was serious.
“Alright. Should we dress then if this is to be a proper conversation?”
“If you like,” Delia replied, worried now she might have built the entire thing up too much.
“Come on, mate. Let’s have a shower.”
Eyebrows raised, she followed Arran, enjoying the view of his tight backside to his luxurious shower. The man did like his comforts, she mused, as she stepped in to the three-head, glass-enclosed shower stall.
“How do you like the water?”
“Lobster boil,” she replied readily, and that earned her a quick wink.
“Did you wanna talk in here?” he asked.
Arran’s gaze was already roaming Delia’s body as water sluiced over her shoulders and though she knew they had loads to discuss, her thoughts had already taken a different turn.
The newness of this all was too precious to waste on unimportant matters, besides, what else was the past? It was the future that mattered. With that in mind, she pressed her body against Arran’s, liking his immediate response as his arms wound around her.
“We can talk later.”
“Aye, we can.”
“Aye,” she agreed, already opening her lips for his kisses.
Sex in the shower could be tricky, but Arran was strong as a Bull, literally. He held her steady, making sure she was comfortable and safe before he moved her to face away from him.
His hands roamed her body, creating fires as they went. Delia was so turned on, she was ready to explode by the time he bent her over and filled her with his shaft. He drove into her tirelessly, bringing her to the brink of ecstasy again and again without letting her fall off until he could draw out her pleasure till the very last second.
By the time he let her come, her legs were shaking, and she couldn’t stand without help. The man had stamina, she would give him that. Nuzzling her neck as he carried her back to bed with a thick, fluffy towel wrapped around her, she couldn’t even speak.
“Rest now, mo chridhe,” he whispered, kissing her brow.
Delia snuggled into him, eyes heavy as she fell into the first truly restful slumber she’d had in a very long time.
“Don’t go,” she whispered when she felt the bed move.
“Naw, chridhe. I’m right here,” he replied, moving in close behind her and tossing the blanket over the two of them.
Good mate.