She snapped at him. Out and out bared her teeth and snapped. A small part of Winnifred worried at her willfulness, but she had no more damns to give.
Sin lowered his body over hers, holding her writhing form pinned beneath his.
She bucked harder, knowing she could push and claw all she wanted and it wouldn’t matter. She could slice through all the strings that tied her to respectability, strangling her, because Sin would be there to hold her together when she let it all go.
She wedged her leg out from his body and hooked it up around his hip. His hard length pressed against her belly, and heat radiated through her chest. She’d done that to him. She wasn’t alone in her need.
Sin pressed his hand to her throat before sliding it down to her chest. He tore away her lace fichu, eyes flaring as he eyed the tops of her heaving bosom. He released her hand and gripped her bodice. Shoulders flexing, he pulled it down, fabric ripping as the seams at her sleeves split, her stays and shift rending. Cool air met her puckered nipples a moment before his mouth descended.
He scored his teeth along the side of her breast, bit into the soft underside before licking the sting away. He ground his hips into the vee of her thighs, spiking her temperature, making her toes curl.
She shoved her hands under his coat, dug her fingernails into his shirt, pulling him into her. He was delightfully heavy against her, solid in a way she’d never known. Tough enough to take any of her assaults. Rough enough to break down her barriers. Sin touched her as though her body were merely an extension of his own.
His bristled jaw rubbed her delicate skin raw. He sucked her nipple into her mouth, drawing so hard she arched her back. The nip of pain made her skin feel alive, put an end to any thought in her brain until all it measured was sensation.
She shoved at the lapels of his jacket, shoving it down his shoulders.
He reared up and threw it off.
She yanked his cravat, earning a growl as she garroted him.
He beat her to his shirt, reaching behind his head and tearing if off in one go.
The sweat on his skin glistened. A damp thatch of hair, a darker auburn than his head, dusted his chest. She traced the tantalizing trail arrowing down his stomach until she hooked her finger into the waist of his trousers.
He was beautiful, her beast. Beautiful, and wild, and hers.
Using his pants as leverage, she pulled herself up to suck at his throat, his collarbone. She licked the beads of sweat from his shoulders, loving the earthy taste of him.
A shudder rippled through his body, and a grin stretched her lips. She’d done that. She lifted her pelvis to rub against his. She’d made him tremble.
He looked down on her, his hair falling from its queue to brush his shoulders.
She reached for his face, but he intercepted her hand, gripping her wrist and flipping her to her stomach, one side of her face pressed into the carpet.
His breath was hot on her temple. “Don’t make one damn sound. I don’t want to hear one more word about how you think you’re unappealing, or how misunderstood Donald is, or why it’s only sensible that you hide behind your father’s name.”
He scraped his fingers up her legs, pulling her skirts with him until they bunched at her waist. “I might be the Dunkeld who let’s Kenmore crumble into the ground, but I damn sure won’t allow you to diminish yourself. You’re a fierce, cunning, carnal little creature, and thank God for it. I worship your wildness, even as the brute in me demands to control it.” He sucked her earlobe into his hot mouth, pulling. “So, you’re going to stay quiet as I fuck this pussy, my pussy, so hard you won’t be able to climb from bed on the morrow.”
The hair on the nape of her neck stood on end. Tingles started at the base of her spine and spread through her body. Dear Lord, they were going to have intercourse in her sitting room in broad daylight. She would need to remain silent, if nothing else, so as not to draw anyone’s attention.
The decadence of the situation thrilled her.
Sin grabbed the knot that held her hair and tugged her head back. “Nod if you understand.”
Chest heaving, she bobbed her head, her hair pulling at the roots he held.
Sin dropped her head and dug his fingers into her hips. He jerked her back onto her knees, tilting her bottom up.
She sagged into the rug, the rough wool abrading her cheek and nipples. Her body went limp, surrendering to his dominance.
He slapped her arse, and she whimpered at the sting.
Sin’s crown bumped her entrance, notching inside her channel.
His command was all-consuming, surrounding her, enveloping her until she no longer knew where her reality ended and his began.
He impaled her with his length, their union complete.
***
A dark mist clouded his brain. Deliberate thought was but a distant memory. His blood pounded beneath his skin, a storm raging just below the surface.
He stared at the woman stretched out beneath him. His woman. Her hands lay limp by her head. Her mouth was soft, her eyes closed, her hair a knotted nest around her head. Sin drew his finger down the creamy skin of her spine, feeling each bump of her vertebrae until he reached the cleft of her arse. The lingering pink mark of his handprint made his cock twitch inside her.
He pushed into her, taking that last two inches until he was pressed flush against her bottom. Her sheath was liquid heat around him, sucking wetly at his prick as he pulled out until only his head remained. He pounded back home, his trousers slipping an inch down his hips.
Mine. The one word reverberated through his consciousness. The infuriating, marvelous woman before him, surrounding him, was his and his alone. And if any man tried to write sentimental words to her again, Sin would rip his fingers off, one by one.
It wasn’t rational. Wasn’t civilized.
He didn’t care.
Sin slid his hands higher, adjusted his grip on her waist. Small round circles pinkened her flesh where his fingertips had been.
A growl rumbled low in his throat. His marks looked good on her. He raised a hand and brought it down on her plump arse, watching the red print bloom.
Jesus fucking Christ, he was mad. His desire for his wife went beyond what was normal. He wanted under her skin, inside her head, his mark covering every inch of her.
He fucked her slow and hard, his gaze transfixed as his purpling cock disappeared and reappeared from her body.
Winnifred sighed and arched her back, raising her hips to his thrusts.
Something deep rumbled in his chest.
He loved it when she fought him like a wild thing.
He loved it more when she submitted to his power, when she realized she’d been caught and that her capture would bring them both the greatest pleasure.
Whatever the future of their marriage held, whatever feelings Winnifred may or may not develop, he knew at least in this one aspect there would be no complaints.
He pulled out, his cock weeping at the separation. He pulled her cheeks apart and rubbed his crown against her arsehole. “Can’t wait to fuck you here. Can’t wait to fuck you everywhere.” Her arse, her mouth, her breasts. Her body was a veritable feast for his hungry Thomas.
He slid back inside her cunny, the skin at the base of his spine tingling.
But before he took his pleasure in her other parts, another need demanded attention. The compulsion to plant his seed deep inside her, mark her in the truest way he knew how. Fill her with his child, link her to him in a way no man could break.
He thrust deep, his cock begging for relief.
A whimper escaped her lips and she pressed her mouth tight.
Sin gripped the back of her neck with one hand held onto her hip with the other, pulling her down to meet his drives. He fucked her harder. Faster.
Winnifred bit her lower lip, her shoulders tensing.
Leaning over her, he whispered, “Is there something you need to say, mo chridhe?” He skimmed the hand at her hip down to graze her pouting clit.
Her mouth opened on a silent gasp, her hips jerking back on him in her desperate spiral.
He licked the tendon straining in her neck before biting down.
Her whimper only spurred him on. She wouldn’t be thinking about MacConnell or her life before Sin. Not now. “I want to hear you scream my name. You have permission for that.”
She wailed, her dewy skin flushing pink all over, “Siiiin.” His name was a tortured groan. A plea. The best fucking sound he’d ever heard.
Planting one foot by her side, he fucked his wife for all he was worth. The ride was wilder than any runaway horse, any country race.
The slap and squelch of their bodies melded with his grunts. With her moans every time he hit bottom. Lightning raced along his cock and fire pooled low in his ballocks. They pulled up tight as Winnifred’s shoulder muscles hardened to stone.
The need for release was overwhelming. He shouted as he spilled into her, pulse after pulse of his seed filling his woman, and he ground his finger against her clit. Her core clamped hard around him as she cried out, and he circled her nub, trying to drag out the excruciating moment for as long as possible.
It wasn’t long enough. It would never be enough. He collapsed on top of her, pinning her frame, keeping her from ever escaping.
A log in the fireplace popped, and the skin of his back cooled. Finding her hands, he interlaced their fingers together and rolled to his side, wrapping their hands around her middle.
When he’d gained a wife, he’d felt the lure of possession. As Winnifred revealed her soul bit by bit, like a sultry little dance of seven scarves, his feelings had bordered on obsession.
Now, something else took root under his breast.
He buried his nose in her hair and kissed the back of her head.
Something that felt an awful lot like love.