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The Highlander’s Mate by Jaye Peaches – Extended Preview

thehighlandersmate_detailWaking in Felix’s bed, Claire was presented with an immediate problem—her absent clothes. She’d a faint recollection of the horse ride and Felix undressing her and putting her to bed. She also seemed to recall the warmth of his body pressed against hers, the comfort it had brought her as she’d drifted in a state of delirium.

The lack of attire left her with no recourse but to drape a tartan blanket over her shoulders and cover up her nudity. There were clean clothes in a bag at the inn in Garve and she suspected the ones she wore the previous day were in need of washing and drying. Her stomach rumbled with hunger, which she couldn’t ignore even though she was nervous about meeting Felix.

Her foolish attempt at returning to Luichart Castle when she should have waited at the inn had removed any advantage she might have in convincing Felix she’d acted sensibly. He would seek a worthy explanation for her antics and she’d none to give him.

Entering the solar, she smelt coffee. Breakfast was laid out on the table and seated at the head was Felix. He’d dressed himself as if he were attending a business function with an elegant coat and white cravat. His appearance was in stark contrast to her dishevelled one. She pulled the blanket tight across her midriff.

“You must be hungry,” he said pleasantly. “Sit and eat.”

“I apologise for my appearance, sir. I have nothing to wear.” She carefully sat, ensuring the blanket covered her down to her thighs.

“I take it your baggage is once again in the care of the innkeeper at Garve?” he asked, still maintaining the polite prose.

“It is,” she confirmed, spooning a ladle of porridge into her bowl. Her appetite for food was rapidly diminishing.

“What happened to Dougal?” he asked.

“I don’t know. He had not risen by the time I’d left Inverness.” It was the simple truth.

Felix frowned. “The man is a drunk. I’ll not trust him again.”

“I comprehended very little of what he said. I cannot say what became of him that night.”

“I assume you found suitable transport from Inverness? Something befitting for a young lady?” He poured her a cup of black coffee.

Claire felt the heat rise in her cheeks and swallowed hard. His gentle inquisition hid its true purpose—to critique her poor choices. “I asked the manager at the hotel for a recommendation.” Her hand shook as she lifted the coffee.

“Indeed,” Felix smiled as he drawled, raising a solitary eyebrow. “This recommendation, did it involve you travelling with strangers?”

“Naturally, any journey in these parts would force strangers upon me.”

“What manner of men were your travelling companions?”

She contemplated lying, but the words would stick in her throat, betraying her. “A merchant and his son.”

“What did they sell?”

She winced. “Pots and pans.”

“A gypsy?”

“No,” she said, offended. “A good Scotsman and his young boy. They spoke Gaelic. They took me as far as Garve.”

Felix snorted. “So, you prevailed upon a travelling salesman and he took money off you?”

“Some.” She’d given him several shillings, more than she’d expected.

“Some,” he repeated. “And then, you left Garve to walk here when the weather was deteriorating.”

“It looked fine when I left.”

“The weather in these parts is unpredictable and should never be underestimated, especially in the winter months.”

She bowed her head. “I got lost.”

“Easily done, even by the local inhabitants. I have the fortune to have a good sense of direction, as you might expect.” He slid back his chair and she eyed his firm lap with a rising dread.

“I apologise for leaving Garve when advised not to.”

“I’m relieved you are recovered from the ordeal; however, your ill-advised departure from Garve is not what grieves me, Claire.” He rose and stood before the fireplace, his hands clasped behind his back. “Why did you not go home?”

The explanation when it came seemed abysmal. “I just couldn’t leave you. I don’t know why. I feel like I belong here.” Her voice petered out into a whisper.

“Yet, I ordered you to return and you did not. Regardless of what you believe, how am I to ensure that in the future you will obey me? We are on the cusp of spending the rest of our lives together, exchanging vows and you have no faith in my judgement.”

She looked straight into his eyes. “I do have faith in you, sir. It is I who struggle with my impulsive actions. I cannot explain it nor do I expect your forgiveness.”

Felix sighed. “Oh, my love, of course you are forgiven, but that does not exonerate your behaviour or my wish to ensure you do not repeat your failings. You put yourself in great danger yesterday. Far more than I could possibly imagine. I carried you in my arms, weak and unaware. The sight of your pale cheeks frightened me.”

She rose, the tears welling in her eyes. Now, she understood why she needed his firm hand. Never again would she make him feel sad or afraid for her life. Approaching him, she allowed the edges of the blanket to slip away and fall to the floor. He gasped softly, then drew in a sharp intake of breath. Offering her nudity this time felt appropriate and demonstrated her trust in him. If he wanted to, he could take her, lay claim to her. She would let him and endure it knowing it would make him happy.

What would he think of her breasts, the narrowness of her waist, and the mound of her pubis? She’d no measure of their worth to him, whether they pleased or disappointed him.

Naked, she knelt at his feet, feeling the cool air at her back. A flurry of tiny shivers was not entirely due to the temperature of the room; she developed another kind of fever and its origins came from deep inside her. “I believe I can give you what you want, sir. More than a wife, more than a lover. I will be the mate you need. Punish me, yes, I ask you to. I shall learn from your admonishment. Then, because it is necessary, take my virginity. I have to know, we both do, that I can meet your demands and thrive on them.”

She held up her hands, palms raised and bowed her head.

Felix rocked slightly on his toes. She couldn’t see his face, but she heard his rapid breaths. No doubt, she’d surprised him with her submission and given she’d not planned to offer it with such an open display of vulnerability, she hoped it was sufficient to change his mind—please, don’t send me away, she prayed.

“Your faith in me is touching. I shall spank you now, but as for your virginity, that is something I cannot take, not until we are wed.”

She staved off the wish to counter him, remembering it wasn’t her place to argue. “I hope you change your mind.”

“Now, Claire, kneel upon the seat of this armchair and bend over the back.”

The leather creaked as she knelt. Crossing her ankles, so to keep her legs locked tight together, she leaned over the top and bent, lifting her bottom to the apex of the chair’s back. She cringed with shame at her exposed position. Once again he was afforded the opportunity to see parts of her anatomy that no man had ever set eyes upon. She wished it was over swiftly.

“Good,” he said. “Let us commence with this most unfortunate punishment.”

The smack of his hand swept up an arse cheek. She jolted, her hips jarring against the seat. She bit on her lower lip, nipping it with her teeth. Neither a sting nor a thud, it seemed as if his whole hand covered her lobe. Bent over with her skin drawn tight, she hadn’t the benefit of cushioning flesh.

Another slap on the other cheek, then back to the first. He repeated the alternating swipes in quick succession. Claire could barely snatch a breath between them and she screwed up her eyes, yelping softly with each spank.

“You left Inverness on your own, in the company of strange men in defiance of my directive. Such naughtiness and blatant disobedience. Bad girl.” He rattled his spanks on her hind end, aiming at the same area repeatedly.

“Ooo, I’m sorry,” she bleated.

The flurry of smacks continued and she jerked and squirmed, paddling her feet on the edge of the seat. Felix pressed his spare hand on her lower back and held her steady.

“Bad, bad girl,” he reiterated, punctuating his words with hard slaps. “Do you have any idea how much heartache you have caused me?” He paused.

“Too much.” She sniffed and tears dripped off the end of her nose.

“Do you feel suitably punished?”

What a question. Yes, she wanted to shout. Her bottom was on fire and whatever residue of cold lurked beneath her skin, the heat of the spanking had toasted it. No more, please—she almost shrieked, but she held back. Something else was happening to her and it wasn’t about the pain or humiliation. She pictured herself, bent over and spanked, under the dutiful care of the man she wished to marry, and it caused an amazing tingling in her pussy. What kind of sight was that to him? Abhorrent or delightful?

She had to find out. Without his permission, she parted her legs and showed him her most prized place.

When she bared herself by removing the protective blanket, he almost glanced away. However, it was her gift to him—her body, unasked, unashamedly offered. He felt a stirring in his loins and the thump of his heartbeats against his sternum as he gazed upon her. She possessed marble white skin, flowing locks of wavy hair, and plump lips. Her breasts with their cherrystone nipples were prominent and rounded, and her cleavage a perfect v-shape with gorgeous curves. She had no need of a cinching bodice, since her natural line was an hourglass shape. What a beauty.

His feelings for her soared to new heights when she knelt and offered her virginity to him. How easy it would be to conquer it. He relied on his human nature to stem the rise of his cock and crush those feelings that the beast within him harboured. Not now. Not yet, he told himself.

Having dismissed his inappropriate thoughts, he focused on the task in hand—the spanking. The seat provided the best supported for her hips and she demurely draped herself over the chair. He took little pleasure from hearing her whimpers and sobs. He meant it to hurt and it must have given the sweep of his arm. Gradually, the heat rose to the surface of her moons, painting them red. He held her still when she wriggled and ensured he kept his palm away from her cleft. When he asked if she felt suitably punished, he half expected her to plead for mercy and beg him to finish, but she failed to reply. He hadn’t intended to end the spanking at that point, since he needed to ensure she sat upon a sore bottom for some time to come. However, regardless of his motivation for continuing, it came as a pleasant shock to see her spread her legs and open up for inspection.

He stepped back to admire the sight of her neat folds framing her slit. The light from the window caught the glint of her swollen lips. Whether she knew it or not, she was superlatively aroused. Now, how to punish her poor bottom? The lust wasn’t intentional on her part, he was sure, given her tears, but with her juices flowing he had to raise the level of her spanking to keep her obedience. His own conflicted thoughts rose to the surface—he desired to see her disciplined and contrite, but he also was enamoured by her response. It fed his passions.

So be it, he decided. It would be necessary to use humility, rather than excessive pain to bend her to his ways. An extension to her punishment was necessary and he formulated a swift plan.

“Rise, Claire and without touching your bottom, go stand facing the wall over there, while I ready the room for the second stage of your punishment.”

She gasped when he spoke of more punishment, but obeyed him, walking on tiptoes toward the appointed spot next to the wall, her hands pressed against her thighs.

While he cleared the table, she snivelled excessively, as if to make a point of her misery. Yet, she remained in place with her face close to the stonework.

With the surface of the table available to him, he picked up her discarded blanket, rolled it up, and placed it in the middle of the table. It would perform the task of a bolster cushion to support her hips. Next, he opened a small wooden chest in the corner of the room where his grandfather had stored many forgotten objects.

As a boy, when he’d visited John, he’d run circles around his grandfather and the result had been the use of a strap on his palm. The memory lingered long after the sting. Reaching into the chest, he discovered what he was seeking—a tawse—a leather strap with a split thong. He flexed it, ensuring it hadn’t cracked with age. The suede finish remained soft and supple.

He placed the tawse on the table and approached Claire. She’d hunched her shoulders and clasped her hands together. Wordlessly, he rested his hands on her waist and gently squeezed.

“You’re a good girl now because you’re obedient and compliant. This spanking is less about punishment and more about your willingness. Show me how compliant you are by taking four strokes of this tawse.”

She let out a small cry of alarm. “Sir, the tawse!”

“Applied evenly across your warmed bottom and with your legs splayed. You will lie on the table and hold position.” He slid his hands down her hips, around her sides and cupped both arse cheeks. The heat filled his palms and he slowly circled them, soothing the burning sensation. “You’re a brave girl, resilient, quick-witted, and resourceful. However, these worthy attributes are afflicted by impatience and stubbornness. Are they not?”

“Yes, my lord,” she agreed. “Please help me curb them. I respect your authority over me, I do. I would not wish it any other way.”

Over her shoulder, he could see her nipples hardened, their colouration deepen. When he spoke of his power over her, the ability he had to focus her thoughts on him and not elsewhere, he knew she’d always be his to love.

“I’m going to thrash this bottom hard. Then, after I’ve wiped away your tears, we’ll discuss your future,” he whispered into her ear.

Thrash, a word that conjured up cruelty. He’d no intention of it. However, it was a test of her faith in him that she complied with his request and laid upon the table without questioning him. He helped her as she lowered her body over the surface by positioning her hips correctly, raising her arse high.

She whimpered, gripping the edge of her table with her white-knuckled fingers.

“Legs apart,” he commanded. She inched them sideways. “More.”

With her thighs parted, she had opened up her furrow, showing him her puckered hole. He flexed his hands before picking up the tawse and circling the armchair and he chose a spot to strike. The crack of leather upon leather made her flinch. He tested the implement several times, gauging the force and speed of each blow. Satisfied he had the measure of the tawse, he positioned himself alongside the table.

Her buttocks clenched, stiffening the globes and the surface of her skin trembled.

“Four,” he reminded her. “Four stripes.”

Claire pressed her hips hard into the makeshift cushion and held her breath. The shameful pose—bare, spread-eagled on the table with her limbs stretched out before the man she preferred to see in a better humour—would be perceived as debauchery in anyone else’s eyes. No amount of praying could alter his decision to spank her with the tawse. A horrible thing with its forked tongue and wicked thickness. The noise it made when it struck the chair sent shivers down her spine. Yet, she remained in place, accepting her fate.

There was little point in asking for leniency and a strange swell of conflicting emotions kept her from pleading for mitigation. She had no clue as to why she felt the tingle of nerves or dizziness, other than it had nothing to do with faintness. She fancied it was his stern manner, which was increasingly appealing. She’d had a rigorous upbringing amongst austere persons and little freedom of thought or deed. Now that she’d escaped that life, she had run straight into the arms of Captain Hughes and his variety of dominance. She concluded it was much better in many ways, especially as he was handsome, too.

The tawse snapped over her cheeks and immediately it seared. However, the pain was not as fearful as she had expected. It was perhaps no harsher than her governess’ ruler on her palms.

Felix stroked his finger along the contours of her buttocks, tracing the line of stings. “One,” he said softly.

The next cracked lower and on the apex of her globes. She snatched a breath, but didn’t cry out. As the blaze the tawse lit evened out, she exhaled and let her tight arse cheeks relax a little.

“Two,” he said before circling her bottom with his cool palm. “You’re being very brave, Claire.”

The third brought tears to her eyes, not through unbearable pain, but relief that she bore the spanking with fortitude. She pinned herself down with willpower.

“Three. Don’t move. I know you can do this,” he impressed upon her. “Show me.”

The last whack met the crease of her thighs and she yelped, having correctly anticipated he’d given her the final blow with a measure of force. Somehow, she’d survived the tawse.

“Four. Good lass.”

She lay still, relaxing her grip on the table. What now? How could she convince him she could endure more than the wicked tawse? She’d so much more she could offer him, she realised. If this was a measure of her stamina, then she foresaw many other demanding acts she might endure for him. No, not endure, the term was inappropriate—she longed to submit to him.

Twisting around so she could prop herself up on her side, she met his gaze. Such bright eyes, dark, but brilliant—she loved him more than ever for his carefully delivered spanking. She’d not suffered unduly and he’d ensured her marks would be felt longer than they were seen.

“Take me,” she said. “If I am to be your wife, then I must consume your passions as my own. Let this be a trial. If I cannot endure what you desire, then I shall leave and never come back to Scotland. You will marry me and I will be the perfect wife for you, but I shall never step foot in the Highlands and I shall accept you will be a different creature here. But if I share this urge you have to mate and love it with all my heart, then please, Felix, let me be yours wherever you live.”

He dropped the tawse on the floor and scooped her off the table. She looped her arms around his neck and buried her face into his chest. He carried her up the staircase into the bedroom and laid her on the bed.

She watched, delighted as he undressed. Unlike outside, when he’d rushed to remove his clothes, he took his time. He carefully undid the buttons of his shirt and untied his cravat, removing both. In his breeches, his cock bulged outward and she waited to see the size of his member.

He smiled as he drew down the breeches, freeing his erection. The dimensions were spectacular and the member sprang upright and twitched. She clenched her pussy, the no longer secret place.

Sauntering forward, he fingered the top of his cock, squeezing it, and a drop of milk appeared on its tip.

“I’m going fuck you slowly. It will be uncomfortable at first, then you’ll ease around it. If you orgasm—come—then I shall quicken my pace and fuck you harder. If you come again, I shall fuck you for my pleasure and empty my seed into you. If you can match the extent of my passions, find solace in my arms, then you are my true mate.”

She licked her lips. What he described was daunting and thrilling. She’d no idea what to expect and how the word ‘fuck’ meant anything other than putting his erect penis in her vagina. As for the ‘come,’ she’d no knowledge of its potency or manner of eruption. Her mother had told her women could not achieve sexual pleasure without a man. She was about to be quickly educated as to its meaning. A storm of butterflies whooshed around her belly, exciting her sex and not just inside, above it too. Her nipples pinched as if an invisible pincer was squeezing them hard. As for the heat blooming across her chest, it distracted her from her sore arse and the cool air of the room.

“I won’t regret this,” she said with confidence, “or you, Felix.”

“Lie back.”

Standing over her, his shadow cast across the bed, he continued to smile. “So beautiful.” He moved over her, nudging her legs apart, and knelt between them. Bending over her, he lowered his mouth. “Kisses first.”

She giggled, liking the sound of his sultry voice. The scar on his face had almost gone, the hair on his head shone with red streaks merging into the burnt brown locks. Those chocolate eyes of his deepened into pools and his lips parted to show pearly white teeth. What a handsome beast she’d found in the Highlands, and he was hers, as much as she was his.

He trailed kisses and tiny love bites over her neck and bosom. She squirmed, finding them ticklish. Several times, she gasped when he sucked hard on her nipples. She locked on to his shoulders at first, feeling the firm muscles. With a growing fascination to explore him, she skated her hands up and down his spine, dipping lower until she had her fingers spread over his rigid buttocks.

“Oh, gracious,” she murmured. He possessed magnificent haunches.

Felix moved lower and her hands could no longer reach so far. Licking his lips, he dove his head between her thighs and laid his mouth upon her labia.

She couldn’t breathe, not at first. It was too overwhelming—the sensation he created with his tongue and lips, kissing and fluttering them into her slit and folds. She thumped the bed at her side and arched her back until her bottom lifted off the mattress.

Looping his arms around her thighs, he continued to pleasure her with his mouth.

“Oh, sir. What are you doing to me?” she moaned.

“Do you quicken?” he asked, raising his head.

She spied his eyes peering up over her mound. “Quicken?”

“Come? Are you about to come?” He lashed her with his tongue.

It felt closer, whatever it was. She had reached a plateau where the tingles seemed to intensify on one spot. “I… I,” she stuttered.

He broke off and shifted up her body until he was face to face with her. This time, he let his cock rest against her. The weight of it pressed down on her belly.

Was she ready?

Something plunged into her pussy, it stretched her entrance, probing her elasticity. He was fingering her, rimming the opening with his digit and judging her arousal. He grinned and withdrew. “You’re ready,” he answered her unspoken question. “You’re wetter than dew on the morning grass.”

Doubts threatened to creep in. Her lower lip trembled.

Felix hooked his hand under one of her thighs and hitched it up higher. “Take a deep breath.”

She closed her eyes and inhaled. His cock slid over her mound and seemed to lose contact. The interval was fleeting. Without any further hesitation, the bulging head stroked her pussy then he drove it deep, pushing aside any resistance.

The sharp pain was no worse than the sting of the tawse. She neither liked it nor hated it. The suddenness caused her to yelp and she clutched his arms tight.

He stilled, holding himself in check. “The worst is over. The pinch will wane.”

Slowly, deliberately, he moved. He swung his hips forward and continued to enter her. How much could she take? A great deal, it seemed as his shaft filled her, stretching her tightness. The friction of his skin was exquisite—pain and pleasure in partnership.

With a sigh, he held his weight above her, then withdrew his cock. Another leisurely stroke and he returned to occupy her once more. Claire’s mouth hung open in a long moan. This was fucking? The movement of his cock in her pussy was what made it special. “Don’t stop,” she pleaded.

He maintained the rhythm of thrusts, and each time he penetrated her, she lost the sense of friction until he glided in and out.

The need to come was tremendous, but she lacked something in order to do so. “I want to come,” she panted. “But, I need help.”

Felix chuckled. “Allow me, my dear. I’ll dance upon your clitty for you.” He sought out the bud and circled it with his thumb while continuing his fucking.

“Oh, yes,” she stammered. “Yes, I do come.”

The ripples were gentle and fast. That was how it started. It didn’t abate, not when he had his cock engaged in firm strokes and his fingers teasing her clitoris. It grew and turned into spasms of contractions that clenched and unclenched his cock. The heat in her bosom became a furnace and her nipples tightened.

Felix let her trembling leg drop. “Well done. You’re no longer a virgin.”

She smiled sleepily. However, she shouldn’t rest. He’d promised her more.

With her both knees drawn up, he pushed her legs up and wider, opening her up and making her sex even more vulnerable. Her eyes sprang open and he greeted her with a dazzling smile. “More?”

She nodded. “Please.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, so tell me if I do. This is still for your pleasure.”

She nodded again.

He thrust, leaning into her and his cock struck to the core of her interior and couldn’t go deeper. He ground his hips, gyrating as if to measure her elasticity. She reached above her head and held onto the bed board.

This fuck shifted in tempo. He exerted greater energy and a few beads of sweat formed on his brow. The passion he demonstrated was vivid and she arched her back to meet his thrusts. When he let go of her legs, she locked her ankles around his back and held position.

“Good,” he murmured.

The pace, the friction, and the depth quickly brought on her second orgasm. She’d no possibility of fighting it. Her toes curled up and her calves cramped as waves of spasms spread about her body. She cried out, making cooing noises as each contraction pulsated in her pussy.

Felix’s eyes widened. “Yes,” he growled. “Yes, good girl. This is what I need from you.”

She almost swooned at his words. It was working, a mutual seduction. Except the wildness in his eyes had magnified. He had given her pleasure, now he planned to take his and this was the real test of her endurance. What happened next would decide their future and whether she could ever be his. She lay spread-eagled, completely vulnerable and nearly spent. Her bottom throbbed, her pussy was sore, and copious juices leaked out onto her thighs. She was completely at his mercy and unable and unwilling to resist.

Felix stood at the bottom of the bed, holding his thickened cock, smearing her nectar over the end until it shone. “Be warned, my sweet, that I have within me a beast whose urges are beyond those of man. I’ll ask you again, do you want me to test your resolve or choose another path?”

“Yes, take me,” she replied without hesitating.

He ringed her ankles with his hands and slowly drew her down the bed toward him. As her legs dangled off the end, he turned her over.

“Kneel on the edge of the bed and lift your bottom high,” he commanded.

She complied, balancing on the rim of the feather mattress. Felix’s knee rested alongside her as he steadied her with his hands around her waist. The grip intensified as he pulled her backwards onto his shaft, impaling her.

This time when he rocketed forward into her, he also pulled her onto his cock. The movement caused her breasts to sway beneath and she clung onto the bedding to prevent herself slipping off the bed. He promised himself the pleasure of her body and she duly offered it to him. This, his fearsome pace, was beyond her most fervent imagination. Ella had been right to tell her wait, to find out for herself. No jiggling, no gentle poking, Felix fucked her and she fully understood the meaning of the word.

However, if she feared he’d forgotten her in the midst of his grunts and powerful thrusts, she was mistaken. He coiled an arm underneath and hunted for her clitoris, circling the swollen nub with his fingers. She arched, her belly fizzing on the cusp of something stupendous.

Bucking against her, his hips knocking into her tender behind, he toyed with her and accompanied his pleasuring with soft groans. She replied with muted whimpers, not of pain, although he wasn’t being gentle, but of desperation. She wanted him to finish before she came.

How she’d changed—from obstinate innocent with a greed for luxuries and an easy life—to a fully developed woman able to please a demanding man and put aside her own needs.

He slowed, coupling his rocking with long strokes down her back with his palm and trailing fingers. For a few minutes, he treated himself to a leisurely exploration of her body. He bent over and kissed the back of her neck, nipped her shoulders, and rolled her nipples between his finger and thumb.

“Oh, don’t, please,” she writhed. “You tease too much, sir.”

“I do, don’t I. It is because I love to see you come. You do want to come, don’t you?” he growled in her ear.

“Yes, oh, yes,” she pleaded.

“And you shall, after I have finished.” He bundled her hair into a ponytail and drew her face toward him, planting a kiss on her lips. Rising upright, he thrust hard again and continued to pummel her drenched pussy.

Felix was showing a side of himself that she’d not imagined. A hungry man with a tremendous appetite had replaced the suave gentleman and soldier. His authority and dominance resonated in his actions and words. What more could she do to show him how much she adored him, how she’d changed too? While her scalp tingled, almost painfully, she scrunched her fists around the covers and gritted her teeth, fighting off her orgasm.

The instance of his ejaculation stunned her. A liquid heat pooled inside her pussy and she felt it trickle out as he ensured his final thrusts emptied his cock. She smelt the musk and the scent overloaded her senses.

“Oh, I come,” she cried out. The racks of spasms spiralled out and her knees buckled. Felix supported her as the lengthy orgasm rippled on. He caressed her, whispering his gratitude.

“You surpassed my expectations, sweetheart. You are my mate.”

She sighed, relaxing onto the bed feeling dopey and delighted by his request. She done it—she’d proved to both Felix and herself that she was the right woman for him.

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