He slapped her rear.
“Oi!”
“This is my Claiming, wench. Not yours. Try that again and we stop . . . for good.” He lied, of course. There would be no way he would ever stop taking her. Fucking her any and every way he could. But he loved that growl of annoyance she gave when he taunted her. It made him harder.
For good measure—and really just because he wanted to—he slapped her rear again. She glared at him over her shoulder, but she couldn’t hide the rush of moisture or the way her muscles gripped his cock.
She wanted him. Needed him. Which was good. Because this night he would make her his own, so that she’d never forget it.
* * *
She knew now that only one male could have ever claimed her. Only one dragon was strong enough to make her his and his alone. Any other male she would have left dead on the wedding sheets. But her Fearghus was brave enough to take her. Brave enough to burn his mark into her flesh. And brave enough to slap her ass.
He never tried to tame her. He loved everything about her, including her rage, and he never tried to change it or make it go away. Fearghus embraced it as he embraced all of her.
He was her perfect match and one day they would rule Garbhán Isle together.
Fearghus moved inside her. Slowly. Taking his time. Making her hungry for it. She cursed him but it came out suspiciously like a moan. But by the gods it felt so good. And she couldn’t stop herself from moaning. Gasping. Saying his name. Screaming his name.
He brought his long, hard body over hers and kissed her shoulders, back, and neck. His hands slipped under her body and gripped her br**sts, squeezing her ni**les tight. She leaned her head back and he kissed her.
He stood, lifting her chest off the table with one hand while the other slowly found its way down to her dripping sex. He massaged her there, avoiding her clit. And she thought briefly that she might possibly have to kill him.
She needed release. And she needed it now.
She leaned back against him, her arms going back to wrap around his neck as he hungrily nipped her throat. She again ignored the pain in her forearms as his black hair rasped across the wounds. She didn’t care. Because at that very moment, even the pain felt good.
“Finish it, Fearghus,” she begged desperately. “Now.”
“Tell me what I need to hear first, Annwyl. Tell me.”
Somehow, she knew exactly what he wanted. What he needed. And she would not delay in telling him. “I love you, Fearghus. I love you and I’m yours. There will be no other. Ever.” As if that had ever been an option.
“And I’m yours, Annwyl. Forever.”
“Yes. That’s wonderful,” she barked dismissively. “Now finish it.” He laughed, she assumed at the desperation in her voice. His c**k thrust smoothly in and out of her as his fingers gripped her clit and firmly stroked the engorged nub. Her fingers dug into Fearghus’s hair, gripping the silky strands as the wave of heat spread across her lower back. She moaned desperately as her body began to shake. Heat tore up her spine and her clit throbbed uncontrollably. The moan became a scream as the climax racked her body. He f**ked her through her orgasm, but when her cries settled he allowed himself to come with a roar, his seed exploding into her.
The pair laid against the table, tiny spasms rocking their bodies. Until Annwyl looked back at him.“Fearghus?” He looked asleep. His eyes closed; his breathing even and deep.
“Aye?” he finally answered without opening his eyes.
“So is that it then?”
He smiled. “Yes, Annwyl. That’s it.”
She looked across the tent to the tub, then back at him. “That tub certainly is far away.”
He opened his eyes and glanced over. “Aye. That it is.”
“Think we can make it?”
“Leave it to me, woman.” He took a deep breath, wrapped his arm around her waist, and lifted her off the floor. He walked over to the tub, carrying her easily, his c**k still buried inside her. With his free hand, he reached down and dumped the tub over, the used water splashing across the floor.
“Watch. Learned this from Morfyd.”
He spoke an incantation in a language Annwyl never heard before. In moments, the tub filled with steamy water.
“Nice trick.”
“I thought so.” Fearghus stepped into the tub, still tightly holding Annwyl in his arms. He lowered himself into the hot water and relaxed back. “Of course, somewhere I may have just caused a drought.”
“Couldn’t be helped.”
“Selfish bitch.”
He kissed her neck, licked her ear, while his hands roamed slowly over her flesh. His shaft still buried deep inside of her.
“You know, Fearghus, you can let me go now.”
“I know,” he muttered against her neck. But his body seemed to have a plan of its own, as his hands did nothing but excite her, his c**k hard again, growing in response to her moans.
Annwyl smiled. This was going to be a long night.
Annwyl forced her eyes open. Based on the shadows crawling across the dirt floor, most of the day had already passed. She’d probably missed luncheon.
She didn’t reach for Fearghus. There was no point. He was gone. She didn’t know when he left, but as soon as she awoke, she felt his absence.
The dragon took possession of her body all night. A few times she’d wake to find him inside of her, making love to her until she climaxed. One time she thought she dreamed that she’d taken him, only to wake up to find herself straddling his hips and riding his c**k until he exploded inside of her. But the last time he came to her she knew something was different. He moved slow and gentle inside her. Taking his time, giving her the sweetest experience she ever had.