by Madison Faye
“Sorry,” I mumble.
“Don’t be.”
Her voice is edged and cold.
“God is she insane,” she mutters, turning and taking a deep breath before turning back to me and smiling.
“You’re getting married, Cat! You!”
I bite my lip, and I can’t even stop my gaze from drifting to Callum.
Callum who… does things to me. Callum who gets me all twisted up inside, and who sends sinful, wicked desires coursing through my body. Callum who makes me feel and want so hard that I actively ran from him before.
…That will not be happening again.
Our eyes lock, standing there apart from each other, and the fierceness in that gaze takes my breath away. I shiver, remembering his hands on me, and his mouth on me. And as the heat sizzles through my core, I can feel his seed still on my skin, like a filthy little reminder. A dirty little secret.
…A promise that we’ve only just begun.
Chapter 7
Callum
Aerie Doon is a quiet, quaint place. Without all the commotion and the people here, I understand fully why it was here Cat ran to, even if the idea of her running away from me has my jaw tightening and my scowl deepening. But then, I also know why she ran.
Nine. Nine other men tried to take her for themselves, and every one of them failed. They failed because they weren’t worthy of her. Not strong enough. They failed because they weren’t me. And they failed because where fate, or luck, or destiny is concerned, she was born to be mine, just as I was born to be hers.
She ran because what happened with us Hamish’s wedding wasn’t just “a kiss.” Not even close. Because that kiss shattered the walls I’d build around myself since coming back from the Holy Land. That kiss destroyed my cold defenses.
That kiss showed me what I could have, and all it took was a taste for me to know that I was destined for her.
And so here we are. Quaint? Quiet? I growl as my eyes scan the chaos of the top of the small hill that the keep stands upon. Because right now, the old guard post is anything but quiet. Workers and guards scramble to erect the array of tents that Lord McDougall has traveled with. Cook tents, a small barracks for his men. An overhang for the horses. Sleep quarters, and of course, a large tent fit for a feast, which is exactly what it’s being used for this evening.
I don’t know Lachlan McDougall well, but I know him well enough to both respect him and see the respect he has for me in his eyes. And I think he knows I won’t be scared off from his daughter, which is why we’re feasting tonight in celebration of the wedding that we’ll have the moment we return to Lachlan’s castle.
Though while the cooking food smells wonderful, and a cup of strong ale or good whiskey sounds perfect right now, none of it comes close to what I really want.
One of Lord McDougall’s men rings a bell, signifying the start to the dinner feast, and we all take our seats at the large table. My eyes land on Cat, sitting across from me, and it’s everything I can do to stop the groan from rumbling from my lips. Or hell, to stop myself from lunging over the table and scooping her into my arms.
Gods she looks beautiful.
While the tents were going up, and while I was sending ravens back home, and while Cat’s stepmother Darcy was loudly complaining about the “condition” of the “camp,” Catriona got the bath I know I interrupted earlier. And while I’m not pleased with knowing that she’s not sitting there with my cum marking her skin, my bride-to-be does look absolutely stunning.
So stunning, in fact, that this time I do groan, at the knowledge that tonight, she’s sleeping in the quarters at the top of Aerie Doon—under guard—while I sleep in a sumptuous tent her father had set up for me.
We’re sleeping apart, but gods do I want her. I want to claim her and taste every inch of her skin. I want to make her mine, and I know damn well that isn’t happening tonight. But just the same, I try to enjoy the feast. I drink the good ale, eat the tasty food, and let myself smile knowing that soon, this gorgeous, perfect girl will be my wife.
And yet, still…
…Still I want her. I thank the gods that I’m sitting as these thoughts rush through my head, because my cock hardens to steel as I dwell on them. I bite back the growl, blood burning like fire through my veins and my big, thick cock pulsing against my thigh under the table.
I eat, I drink, but still, my hunger doesn’t even remotely go away. Because what I hunger for is off limits—that is, until we’re wed. And then?
The grin curls the corners of my lips as my hungry, fierce gaze locks onto her.
Because after we wed, you can be damn sure that there’ll be nothing holding me back from what’s mine.
****
Separate quarters.
I growl, pacing my tent, a cup of whiskey in my hand and a roaring need to feel Catriona moaning under me blazing through me. The need to taste her lips and swallow her cries of pleasure—to lay her across that bed up in that tower again and drag my tongue over every inch of her, until she’s begging me so sweetly for release.
I grunt, still pacing, my jaw clenched tight and only loosening for another sip of the whiskey. It feels as though I’m going mad. It’s as if I’ve become addicted to Catriona and being apart from her is slowly poisoning me.
I know the flimsy tent walls and the handful of guards at the door to the keep itself won’t stop me if I truly want to go to her. Not a chance. But this is about control. This is about respecting tradition. Gods do I want her, but heaven help me, she’ll be my bride before I pluck her rose.
I growl, turning on the heel of my boot to begin another pace of the length of my tent in a vain attempt at making my cock go down, when there’s a knock at the front flap. I pause, frowning before the flap is pulled aside, and Darcy, Catriona’s stepmother and Lachlan’s wife, steps in.
“Pre-wedding jitters?” She smiles smugly and wickedly—a smile that besmirches the meaning of the word as she nods at my glass.
“None, my lady,” I say as growl-free as I can possibly muster.
She laughs, the sound like a raven’s claws against a shield.
“Oh, you don’t have to play coy with me, Lord Bruce. Every groom feels—”
“There are no jitters, my lady. No second thoughts, no fear. None.”
She eyes me, like she’s sizing me up before she steps towards me.
“Can I help you, my lady?”
I frown. Beyond the fact that I’m of no mood to entertain, it’s late. And her being here alone in my tent is…
I scowl.
It’s unbecoming, to be honest. Especially for a lady of her stature.
Slowly, she smiles that poisonous looking smile again, her eyes settling on me.
“Perhaps,” she says flippantly, waltzing across the room towards me. There’s a smokiness to her eyes, and my scowl only deepens.
“Can you help me, Lord Bruce?”
The words purr from her lips, and my body stiffens defensively.
She doesn’t actually mean—
“Why don’t we help each other, hmm?” She purrs again, and when she reaches for the ties at the front of her gown, suddenly, I snap.
“Lady Darcy,” I growl sharply, moving towards her and pushing her back with my hands on her arms. “I think you should go, now.”
Anger flashes across her face before she smiles, winking at me as if this is some sort of game.
“Oh, do you, Lord Bruce?”
“Lady Darcy, get out,” I hiss.
“You seem pent up, my lord,” she says thickly, moving into me. “Though I’m sure I can find a way to soothe your—”
“Out!” I bark, and suddenly, her little act falls apart. She glares at me, her face red with fury as she steps away from me.
“I chose to be nice, Lord Bruce,” she snaps. “I could always tell my husband that you pulled me in here and tried to have your way with me if you don’t consider my offer.”
My blood turns to fire, and my jaw clenches.
“Or you could leave, right now, and I won’t tell your husband exactly how fickle the trash he married is.”
Indignation washes over her like a red tide, and she sneers, her lip curling.
“Try me, Lord Bruce,” she hisses. “I always get my way.”
“I’m very happy for you,” I spit back, sarcasm dripping from my words. “Because so do I. And what ‘my way’ is right now is for you get out.”
Darcy’s eyes narrow to slits, rage clouding her face before she shakes her head, spits on the ground, and whirls to storm from the tent.
I swear, growling as I knock back the last of my whiskey. I shake my head, and I’m about to go fetch more to try and get me through this night without Cat, when there’s another knock outside my tent door.
“Get gone, woman!” I bark savagely, whirling on the door. The flap rustles, and a pale-faced guard—one of Lachlan’s men—sticks his head in.
“My lord Bruce, a raven for you has arrived from Dungow Castle.”
The fury fades from my face as I grin. Dungow is my friend Hamish’s castle.
The guard hands me a note, bows stiffly, and turns to leave before I can ask him to get me more whiskey. No matter, though. I open the sealed note, and when I read it, my sour mood instantly lightens. It’s a note from Hamish and our other friend Malcolm, swearing to be there for my wedding.
My wedding, to her.
My thoughts drift to daydreams of Cat—lying there alone in that bed we almost made ours earlier today. I wonder if she’s remembering the feel of my tongue on her, and I hope it’s keeping her up.
I groan, clutching at the large table in my tent with a rough hand before suddenly, it hits me, and I know what I need to do.
The hell with traditions and superstitions. The girl up in that tower is mine—my bride. And traditions be damned, I will be seeing my bride tonight.
I storm from the tent in a daze, moonlight glowing over everything as I storm right for the tower,
…Right to her.
Chapter 8
Catriona
At first, I think it must be dream. A filthy, wicked, incredible dream, but a dream nonetheless. It’s still dark in my chambers at the top of Aerie Doon Keep, and silent but for the cracking of campfires down on the grounds below the window.
The feeling hits me again—pure, raw pleasure—and I whimper as I arch my back, gasping quietly as sleep fades away.
And its then that I know that this is no dream. I’m not imagining the feeling of heaven between my thighs at all, because it’s really happening to me. I moan softly, and when my hands slide down and run through Callum’s wild dark hair, I moan even deeper as his tongue pushes deeper.
His firm hands are gripping my thighs, spreading my legs wide as he crouches on the bed between them. His sinfully wicked tongue drags slowly up and down my slit, sending ripples of pleasure through my entire body as I gasp into the darkness.
“My lord…” I purr, moaning as his tongue flicks across my little numb, sending shivers up my spine. I coo quietly, my hips moving against his mouth as he sucks my clit between his lips and begins to gently swirl his tongue across it.
“Callum…”
“Lay back, my little love,” he growls into my skin, turning his head to nip gently at the inside of my thigh. He turns back, dragging his tongue oh-so-slowly from the very base of my lips all the way up to my clit. He moves low again, and this time, his tongue dances over my ass, making me gasp sharply in forbidden pleasure before he drags it up every inch of me back to my clit.
Pleasure melts through me, my entire body writhing on the bed under him. His fingers dig into my skin, making me whimper as I grip his hair tighter, pushing my hips against him. His tongue just keeps swirling and dancing over me, his groans rumbling through my very core until I’m clawing at the sheets and melting into the bed. I can feel my slickness coating his face and my thighs, and Callum only groans deeper as his tongue delves deep into my eager cunt.
My breath becomes staggered, my arm crossing over my face to stifle the cries of pleasure as he plays my body like an instrument with that wicked tongue. He moves faster and faster, and my hips roll more and more eagerly and wantonly against his face, until suddenly, as his tongue flicks over my clit, it’s like everything crashes at once.
I bite down hard on my arm, burying the cry of pleasure in my skin as my hips buck against his mouth. His tongue drags the climax from my body, sending me reeling as I come hard against his lips. My body shudders, hands twist the sheets in tight little fists, and my back arches clean off the bed.
And Callum is far from being done.
I whimper as he slides up between my legs, and when I realize he’s already naked, I moan eagerly and wrap my legs around his muscled, grooved hips. I can feel his thickness pulsing right there against my slick, dripping wet pussy, and for a moment, I throw all caution and fear to the wind.
For a moment, I want him to take me right here and right now.
Callum grunts as he reaches down and rips apart the nightgown he’s already pushed up to my hips. The flimsy, gauzy material shreds apart, baring all of me to his hungry gaze. He growls lowly, like a beast, and it sends a gasp of pleasure and a ripple of excitement through my entire body.
He leans down, hungrily kissing his way down my neck to my ear. And then it’s like he’s read my thoughts and desires as he rasps the words into my ear.
“Soon, little love,” he growls. “I could take you here…”
He rolls his hips, letting the thick muscle between his legs drag slickly over my pussy, making me moan.
“I could pin you to this bed, spread these legs, and push my cock deep into this sweet little virgin cunt,” he groans. But he pulls back, his eyes full of fire as he slowly shakes his head.
“But I won’t, Cat. Soon. So damn soon. But not until you’re my wife.”
I whimper in protest, but when he rolls his hips again and drags that cock over my slit again, I gasp in pleasure. Callum grunts, sliding his cock up and dragging the swollen head up and down my pink slit, making me moan eagerly. He pushes the fat crown over my clit, his cock slick and glistening with my arousal. His hands slip under me, gripping my ass tight and lifting me from the bed. He sits back on his heels, muscles rippling and clenching as he pulls me tight again him, my legs around his waist and my pussy right against the underside of his cock, trapping it between me and his abs.
Callum groans, his muscles bunching as he slowly lifts me against him, and then back down. I gasp in pleasure as the movement has my cunt sliding up and down every throbbing hard inch of the underside of his cock. He pulls me up and down, thrusting his hips at the same time, and it’s almost as though he’s taking me, and fucking me, though there’s no penetration.
I cry out, clawing at his arms and writhing in pleasure as my clit slides up and down every inch of him, dragging over his pulsing shaft and bumping across his swollen head. Callum throws his head back in pleasure, and I bite my lip as I drink him in—the sinfully gorgeous body, the scars from war, the way he moves with me.
The way he holds me so tight and sends pleasure exploding through me.
He moves me faster, his arm muscles bulging and his hands digging into my skin as he pumps me up and down, sliding my pussy over his cock again and again as I start to fall all over again. My eyes slide over my body and his, where we join—watching his fat cock thrust up from between my legs over and over, so glistening and slick with both my arousal and his.
Pleasure melts through me, and when our eyes lock, and when I see the fire roaring in his gaze as he drinks me in, I know I’m going to fall.
Hard.
There are no words, because there don’t have to be. It’s just him and I locked in this intimate, sinfully amazing moment, crashing towards a cliff. Our bodies shudder, breaths catch, muscles clench, and suddenly, as his swollen cock head pushes over my clit, the switch flicks inside of me. And I start to come for him.
I cry out, throwing
my head back, my hair wild across my face as my whole body arches off the bed. My breath thrust to the ceiling, nipples hard and aching as it all hits me. The climax starts between my legs, this rolling wave of pure pleasure that soon consumes all of me. I moan and writhe, bucking against him and gasping for air as the waves crash over me again and again.
Callum roars, his muscles clenched tight and rippling. He thrusts once more, and when his swollen, trembling cock thrusts up between my legs and over my clit one more time, suddenly, he’s coming too.
He grunts, and I moan as I feel his cock throbbing and twitching against me. Thick, hot, white ropes of his cum spurt from his crown to land in heavy streaks across my skin. His hot cum covers my pussy, my thighs, my tummy—dripping and trickling over my skin as we keep grinding together. Until finally, we come to a halting stop, panting for air.
Callum drops me to the bed, and suddenly, his body is covering mine as his lips crash into mine. I kiss him hungrily, losing myself in the intimacy we’ve just shared and in the glowing happiness of knowing that this is real.
This is forever.
“Stay with me,” I whisper, kissing him feverishly. “Tonight, I mean.”
“Cat—”
“I know, I know,” I pout. “I just—”
“Of course, I am,” he growls, his eyes flashing. I bite my lip, trembling as I lean in and kiss him softly.
“We will be waiting until after we’re wed until we make love, and until I take your maidenhead,” he murmurs into my lips, sending a thrill through my core.
“But for tonight?” He grins, kissing me.
“Tonight, I’ll be sleeping with my bride-to-be.”
I kiss him, wrapping my body around his huge, muscled frame. And I just keep kissing him until at some point, I sleep.
I’d say my dreams are heavenly, too. But then, they’re nowhere close to the perfection of reality with him.
Chapter 9
Callum
“Soon,” I growl, kissing her one last time as she sinks into me. Her breath catches on her lips, her body rolling against me as I steal this last kiss before sending her off to her own quarters. We’re back at her father’s castle, and though this is my bride-to-be, and soon, I feel as though claiming her against the damn hallway wall until my cum fills her womb would be…