Page 91 of A Touch So Wicked

Nan cackled. “Would ye have bidden me enter?”

He glanced down at Elissa’s flushed face. “Nay. Leave us, woman. My wife and I need privacy. If I can’t go after Gordon, I can at least have a wedding night.”

Nan thrust a cup filled with a pungent smelling liquid beneath his nose. “Drink, Lord Damian. ‘Twill ease yer pain.”

“My pain is below the belt and I doubt that vile concoction will ease it,” he muttered beneath his breath.

Nan sent him an exasperated look while Elissa nearly choked on her laughter.

Damian took the cup Nan offered and set it down on the bedside table. “Not now, Nan. Go away.”

“Men,” Nan muttered, shaking her head. “Their brains lie betwixt their legs. Verra well, I’ll leave, but I’m warning ye, tear out those stitches and I’ll not be gentle with ye when I replace them.” She left in a huff, slamming the door behind her.

“Nan’s right,” Elissa allowed. “I’ll see to our guests while you’re resting.”

Damian’s arm held her in place. “Don’t even try it. I might not be able sit a horse, but I can still ride.”

He rose to his haunches and turned her over so he could unhook the back of her dress. “By the way, did I tell you how lovely you look? That gown is perfect for you.”

“’Twas Mama’s. She wanted me to look nice for my wedding.”

“I’ll be sure and thank her.”

Lifting her arms, he slid the sleeves down and pushed the bodice to her waist. A moment later the gown lay on the floor, and a moment after that her shift followed. Then he sat back on his heels and stared at her.

“You’re beautiful,” he said on a groan. “You’re my wife now; you belong to me.”

Elissa caught her breath as his blunt fingers caressed her breasts. Her body tensed with anticipation. She wanted him to touch her everywhere. She wanted to touch him everywhere. She watched in breathless wonder as he rose and removed his trousers. Her gaze roamed over him, and she forgot to breathe as his sex burst free, thick and rigid and turgid with life. She gulped in a tremulous gasp of air, filling her senses with the heady aroma of clean male flesh and the pungent musk of arousal.

“You shouldna exert yourself,” Elissa said. “Your wound…”

“My wound be hanged,” Damian growled. “A little thing like that isn’t going to stop me from making love to my wife on our wedding night.”

Elissa forgot that she hadn’t wanted this marriage as he held her close and molded her body to his. There was no doubting his desire for her, for she felt the solid proof of it throbbing against her stomach. She sighed as his lips moved against her throat, his tongue tracing an erotic pattern along her skin. Could he feel the pounding of her pulse there? His mind-numbing caresses continued, forging a trail to the valley between her breasts. Her fingers twined themselves in the richness of his dark hair and she urged him on with soft sighs of encouragement.

His mouth covered her nipple, and a melting heat radiated through her, centering in that swollen, aching place between her legs. She arched mindlessly against him, her fingers tightening in his hair as his slow assault upon her senses continued, teeth and tongue laving, touching, arousing. He moved lower, his breath whispering sweet seduction against her navel, her abdomen, lavishly bathing her stomach, hips, thighs, then between them with kisses.

“Damian, please.”

“Aye, sweeting, pleasing you is what I intend to do.”

His tongue swirled around her heated core. She cried out his name, writhing against him as his lips and mouth worked their magic upon her swollen flesh. She ached; bliss whirled through her, enveloping her, exploding inside her.

Then suddenly he was atop her, his fingers opening her as he filled her, stretched her, took her. She shuddered, wrapping herself around him as he began to move on her. She closed her eyes, her body taking flight as he took her once again to the heights of rapture. And then her world fell apart, shattering her, bringing with it a pleasure that nearly stopped her heart. Lost in the throes of her own climax, she was barely aware when Damian gripped her hips, lifted her, and sank into her again and again, until he cried out her name and filled her with his wet heat.

He stayed inside her until he softened, then he shifted away and lay beside her, bringing her into his arms. She heard him groan and feared he had reopened his wound.

“Are you all right?” Her voice was strained with anxiety.

“Better than all right.”

“Be serious. Are you in pain?”

He grinned. “Aye, but it was worth it.”

“Roll over so I can take a look.”

“Don’t fuss, Elissa.”