Castle Cat-Sith

Isle of Skye, Scotland

Blaise purred as she rubbed up against the hard, strong body of her new husband. Although Gavan had collared and claimed her almost a year before, they’d waited to get married. Last night had been their final ceremony here at the castle in the grand hall lit only by candles. It had been an enormous accomplishment and Vera and Nessa, who’d planned it, had spent weeks behind closed doors, lighting candles until they got the drippage they’d envisioned.

The first ceremony had been in Inverness at Club Termonn, the lifestyle club they owned and played at regularly. The club had undergone a makeover for their nuptials. Once again, Vera had excelled in her duties as wedding planner. Who’d have thought the tough-as-nails ex-cop and Domme would have such a decidedly romantic bent.

The entire club had been draped in sterling silver roses, thistle, and ivy. Blaise had liked the juxtaposition of the soft, beautiful flowers against the spiney weeds. This was the smaller of their two weddings and it had been perfect: full of food and drink, laughter and love, and some decidedly kinky entertainment.

But last night had been unadulterated and unapologetic romanticism. How could it not be? After all, it was being held in a centuries old castle and despite Blaise wanting to try and contain the cost, Gavan had given Vera and Nessa a free hand and no limit on their budget. The entire town had been invited and Blaise was pretty damn sure they’d all attended. People had filled the grand hall for the ceremony, then spread into the dining hall and even the bailey, which had been lit with small fairy lights. The whole thing had been romance on steroids.

Her wedding attire for each event couldn’t have been more different. At the club she’d worn a specially made white leather corset with a white lace overlay matched with a thong, consisting of a white silk triangle that barely covered her sex and was held together at all three points by a string of baroque pearls. The damn thing hadn’t been the most comfortable but had served its intended purpose of keeping her aroused and in a submissive state of mind for the entire evening. The outfit for her club wedding had been designed by Louis at the Dark Garden to Gavan’s exacting instructions.

The gown for her castle wedding had been bespoke and made by one of the hottest wedding dress designers in the world. Anne Watson of North Carolina had been happy to take her on as a client and had made several trips to Scotland, which were also attended by her glowering husband. Gabriel Watson and Gavan had been wary of one another at first. They’d circled around each other like two predatory cats. She doubted that Gabe had ever realized the real danger he might have found himself in if Gavan had revealed his true nature: an enormous, engaging, and elegant black tiger who took her breath away.

The gown had been a sparkling lace concoction with a plunging neckline and strings of baroque pearls used together to make wide straps that joined to form a beautifully accented open back. The bodice was handmade, richly textured lace over a nude illusion lining that hugged all of her curves, plus hand-embroidered sequins forming floral accents of roses and thistles. The ivory tulle skirt flared out organically from the zig-zagged bottom of the bodice flowing into a long train adorned with sequins and beading and sprinkled with fairy dust.

The large, hard cock nestled in the cleft of her buttocks didn’t give a damn about the design of her dress and needed no help from steroids or Viagra. It wanted what it always wanted: to be buried balls deep inside her. The thing seemed to have a mind of its own. There were some days she was sure as Gavan rolled on top of her and his dick slid into her pussy that he was still asleep. She had to admit though, it never failed to supply her with numerous orgasms.

She snuggled against him, letting the heat from his body seep into hers and keep her warm.

“Good morning, brèagha,” he rumbled in his deep, Scottish brogue.

Blaise always thought his voice had the timber of really old, really finely distilled whisky that had been aged in vintage casks. It was dark, smooth, and full of complexities. In many ways, his voice was just like the man himself.

As he’d done every morning since the first time she’d awakened in his bed, he pulled her beneath him and rolled on top of her, bringing his mouth to hers in a lazy, sensual seduction. Her lips parted easily as his tongue slipped past them to taste and entice. Her legs parted of their own accord and Gavan took his place between her thighs. Lining his cock up, he pressed into her—no foreplay, no question. She was his and her body would always welcome his as they connected in the most profound way. Blaise arched up, a little cry escaping her lips as she climaxed. It wasn’t an enormous, earth shaking one, but it was there all the same.

“Do you have any idea what it does to me when you do that?” he whispered, nuzzling her neck as he sank deeper. “There is nothing in my world better than this.”

Gavan shifted up as he fucked her, allowing her body to cradle his in the same way the mattress cradled hers. He began thrusting, first in a leisurely, measured way as he kissed her repeatedly with their mouths fused together to allow him to drink in all of her sighs. There was something about being beneath her strong, passionate mate that did things for her. She felt loved and cherished.

She could feel the moment he released his hold on his physiology as the nubs all along his cock made themselves known and alerted her sheath that the man atop her was most definitely a predatory beast. As he drew back, the sensual nubs became painful barbs that scored her vaginal walls, but the pain morphed into heat and pleasure only a second behind the initial shock.

He dragged himself out until only the head of his cock remained inside her, hesitating just a moment before driving forward again, making her moan and writhe beneath him. He repeated the movement, each time eliciting some kind of noise or response from her. Blaise was wrapped around him, and her nails clawed at his back.

“Aye, brèagha, you take what I give you and give back the same,” he said, lifting his head and freeing her mouth so she could emit a long, loud yowl.

His hands went under her buttocks to hold her to him as he began plunging in and out of her wet heat. She loved this. Loved the connection between them as much as she loved the way he gave up the weight of his body to her as he fucked her harder and faster, not allowing her to catch his rhythm or match him stroke for stroke.

Gavan craved and needed control in all things, but most especially in matters of sex.

He pounded into her, thrusting hard and fast when he felt her let go and surrender her need to his. Each and every time they came together, and they did that often, his dominance claimed her submission and feasted on it. It was the lifeblood of the fire that burned brightly in both of them. Her sheath contracted along his length, the barbs digging in as she orgasmed and his cum began to spill in her, filling and soothing her heated core.

Blaise lay beneath him, completely and totally resplendent, spent from his lovemaking and fully at peace.