With Sir Lachlan, her lust had been fierce and absolute, a man and a woman who could indulge themselves and had done so because they were a bachelor and a widow with no real restrictions placed upon them. But once had not been enough, nor twice, and in truth she could not see herself willingly giving up her gruff, deadly, and yet delightfully yielding Highland Beast anytime soon. Nor could she deny Marjorie the lessons she so wanted and needed.
By the saints, this was complicated. And the longer she walked this cliff edge, the higher the risk to her heart as it softened toward them both. Her mind already warned her to defy the king and send Sir Lachlan and Marjorie away, but she was on thin ice with James. He had sent a very curt letter expressing his displeasure at the slaying of Lord Kerr and his men; even with the arrows and the threats, the last thing he wanted was a rise in tension between Lowland and Highland. Besides, even the thought of Sir Lachlan and Marjorie gone—knowing that future husbands and wives might never understand their true natures and needs, leaving them lonely and unfulfilled—made her decidedly irritable. Hot tempered in a way only a red-haired Highland lass could be.
“Janet? Are you angry with me?”
At Marjorie’s small-voiced question, the dismay on her face, Janet silently berated herself for causing the younger woman anxiety. Where was her command? Her famed skill and experience in lusty matters? She’d admonished her ward last night for not talking before acting, and here she was making the same mistake.
“Not at all, my dear,” she replied swiftly, cupping her cheek and tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear before trailing her fingers down to the tops of Marjorie’s breasts. “Forgive my lapse. I lost my head a little, which is not at all the thing when giving a lesson. Shall we continue?”
Marjorie shuddered, arching her back a little. “Please. Touch me.”
Deftly, Janet tugged down the bodice of her ward’s shift to reveal one creamy, rose pink–tipped breast. Her mouth watered to suck the swollen nipple, to scrape it with her teeth, to bite it. But again she tormented herself with restraint, merely circling the tight bud with her fingertip before sliding one finger on either side and gently squeezing.
Gasping, Marjorie cupped her breast and offered it up higher. “More. Harder. Please, please do it harder.”
Devil take it, she couldn’t hold back a moment longer. Not with her heart nearly pounding out of her chest, sweat gathering at the nape of her neck, and her cunt soaking wet. Leaning forward, she kissed Marjorie fiercely, plunging her tongue into the younger woman’s mouth while she tormented her tender nipple with alternate rough thumbing and firm pinches, reveling in her ward’s broken cries of pleasure.
Just when Janet was about to taste that sweet pink nipple, a flash of movement in the corner of her eye made her turn her head.
Sir Lachlan!
Standing in the doorway of the solar. Watching them. His usually stoic face revealing confusion, arousal, and dismay all at the same time.
By the saints, she had done everything wrong so far. Including not informing him of Marjorie’s lessons, that they had naught to do with their bedsport.
Moving her mouth to Marjorie’s ear, she murmured, “My dear, it seems you did not close the door as well as you might, and we have an audience. One naughty protector. We should stop.”
But the younger woman gripped her arm, her eyes heavy lidded with desire and yet an underlying desperation as well.
“No.”
Janet hesitated, then nodded. The only way to unravel this tangle she had created was the method she had used on countless occasions: pure brazenness. Idly tweaking Marjorie’s nipple, she turned her head and met their protector’s gaze. “Sir Lachlan. Come in and latch the door behind you.”
Now he looked a little startled, but he obeyed her command. “Yes, my lady.”
“Come here and explain yourself. I do hope you have an excellent reason for interrupting this lesson.”
Sir Lachlan visibly swallowed as he moved toward the chaise, his black gaze attempting to remain on her but darting once, twice to the luscious display of Marjorie’s bared breast with its taut, rosy nipple.
Well, well.
It seemed her pet wasn’t nearly as indifferent to her ward as he appeared to be. This most interesting development would need to be thoroughly investigated.
At once.
…
He had invaded the ladies’ sanctuary, so it was his own fault he’d seen what he should not: the truly erotic sight of Lady Janet and Lady Marjorie kissing on the chaise, of Lady Marjorie holding her own bared breast for her guardian to fondle.
Of course he’d seen women touch each other before. Back in the court of bachelor King James, such antics barely raised an eyebrow when wine flowed like a river. In many a tavern, too, women looking to earn extra coin would perform alluring dances together. But none of those women had ever looked like this. So passionate. So greedy for one another. These two did not play to amuse an audience or feign lust to loosen purse strings. They wanted this touching, no matter what Lady Janet had said about it being a lesson. And God help him, even though being replaced so soon hurt like an arrow piercing his flesh, he couldn’t help but stare at the two of them, at Lady Marjorie’s breast, which was a large creamy mound of perfection tipped with a swollen nipple dark pink from Lady Janet’s attentions. Couldn’t help the hardening of his wretched cock.
“Ladies,” he said hoarsely, helplessly, when really he should have turned on his boot heel and gone, for he could not bear to witness the woman he loved falling in love with another.
Lady Janet raised an imperious brow. “You did not answer me properly. I asked you to explain your reason for interrupting this lesson, my Beast.”
Now he was even more confused. Her words were brisk, as though she was irritated, and yet there was warmth in her gaze. And she’d called him “my Beast.”
“Uh,” he said, fumbling for the right words and failing utterly. “Forgive me. I did not know…a lesson?”
Lady Janet rose from the chaise and walked to him, then rested her hand on his chest in a gesture that both soothed and staked a claim, and his shoulders relaxed a little.
“At the king’s pleasure, Marjorie will be wed to a stranger,” she said calmly. “As you know, she was imprisoned in a strict convent most of her life, so she has never had the opportunity to meet young lads. She’s never been kissed. Never been touched. I cannot change her past, but I can prepare her for the future. Instruct her in the ways of the marriage bed so that she is not frightened by it, here in a place that is both safe and discreet.”
Put in such a way, it almost made sense. His mother probably would have championed something similar; he’d overheard her lecturing his father on many occasions about his stubborn stance on the role of young women in the clan and their lack of knowledge on worldly matters. Then she’d been killed, and any hope of his father adopting her startling and modern ideas had died with her.
Yet he couldn’t halt the heartfelt words that sprang to his lips. “I am not…replaced?”
Lady Janet frowned. “I am a forthright woman. If I no longer wish to bed you, I will say it to your face. As you are free to tell me. And I most certainly desire to have you in my bed. So tell me, Sir Lachlan, are you going to continue on your merry way, or…”
“Or?” he prompted, his heart thundering in his chest.
A wicked smile curved her lips, one that made his cock throb. “Or assist me with my lesson?”
Lady Marjorie gasped, but her eyes were bright with curiosity as she shifted on the chaise. “Assist…how?”
“Yes,” he echoed hesitantly. “How?”
Lady Janet caressed his chest. “I can teach my ward how to kiss, about the pleasures found in her own body. Alas, though, I cannot show her how to handle her future husband’s cock. How to kiss it. Suck it. Coax it to release seed. But you could, with my sup
port.”
A dark thrill shot through him, and he barely suppressed a moan. How often had he dreamed of the woman he loved teasing him, ruthlessly using him for her own enjoyment? If he agreed, not only would he please his lover, he would be serving sweet Lady Marjorie as well. Two women—one he loved, one he unwillingly had tender feelings for—touching him. Instructing him.
Pleasuring him.
“Very well,” he said gruffly.
Marjorie clapped her hands together, the movement lifting her bared breast higher. “You will? Oh, thank you! I am so eager to learn. I know I’ve only a short time to learn a lifetime’s worth of knowledge before the king yanks…er, before I must leave…”
“Do not think of that, dear one,” said Lady Janet. “Think of today. Think of now. We must begin without delay. Sir Lachlan, if you would remove your clothing and place your hands atop your head.”
He’d never undressed faster in his life, and soon his doublet, shirt, shoes, stockings, and hose sat in a pile on the solar floor. The afternoon sun was sensually warm on his naked flesh, and he arched his back a little as he placed his hands on his head as instructed. He just hoped Lady Marjorie wasn’t a swooning virgin, as much like the rest of him, his cock was large, and it was already thickening and lengthening.
“So many scars,” said Lady Marjorie, biting her lip. “That fresh one…”
Before he could lower his arms and cover himself, Lady Janet placed a hand on the small of his back and rubbed in small circles. “Indeed. Each one a mark of courage, of bravery in service to the king. And the last in service to us. Each one is to be admired. Also to be admired is his exceedingly impressive cock. Take a cushion and kneel at his feet, Marjorie. Sir Lachlan has graciously allowed you to practice on him, but he may call a halt at any time. If he does so and you do not stop at once, my dear, it will be the last lesson you have. Understood?”
“Yes,” said Lady Marjorie softly as she gazed up at him with wide eyes. “May I touch you, Sir Lachlan?”
God’s blood, she aroused him—the curiosity, the innocence in that blue gaze, yet with kiss-swollen lips and that pretty pink nipple exposed to his avid stare. “Just Lachlan. Aye.”
Very, very tentatively she reached up and brushed her fingers along his length. At the heady contrast of her cool, smooth skin, his cock jerked against his stomach, and the young woman reared back in alarm.
“Such a rampant cock!” said Lady Janet, her amusement plain. “You must take it in hand, dear one. Be firm. Show that you are in command. By the by, it is highly unlikely your future husband’s manhood will be this large, so if you can master this one, you can master anything.”
Lady Marjorie nodded, a rather endearing expression of determination settling on her beautiful face. This time she wrapped her fingers around his cock and squeezed gently as she leaned in to inspect the full length of him, the coarse black hair surrounding it, his heavy balls dangling underneath. Inexpertly stroking, massaging, her touch becoming more sure as she grew in confidence. Lachlan closed his eyes and began to count backward. With both women touching him, this might well be the shortest lesson in history.
“What did you say, Lachlan?” asked Lady Marjorie.
His eyes flew open. “Uh…”
Lady Janet laughed. “He is counting in Gaelic. Which means you are doing wonderfully. Now you have learned his length and girth, you might learn his taste.”
Lachlan’s breath caught. He would not survive this.
But what a fine, fine path to his demise.
Chapter Seven
“How are you enjoying yourself, my Beast?”
Lachlan tried to answer Lady Janet’s query, but in truth he could scarcely form words. The illusion of restraint in having his hands atop his head, the sun warming his naked body, Lady Marjorie kneeling at his feet and eagerly teasing his engorged cock and balls, Lady Janet behind him, murmuring soothing words, her soft hand caressing his back in gratitude at his participation in her lesson…
Paradise.
As a young lad he’d seen the success of a dominant woman and submissive man as lovers, though his parents hadn’t been wed. Deciding then he wanted that for himself, he’d been disappointed time and time again by women who expected him to demand, to enforce, to take in the bedchamber as he did on the battlefield. They’d never cared enough to ask or even tried to see into his soul and discover his true desires.
Until Lady Janet, in the Stirling Castle hallway. Again by the campfire at Loch Leven, in his bedchamber here at St. Andrews. And now in this sun-drenched sanctuary, at her command, he had not one but two women pleasuring him.
A truly great time to be alive.
He grunted. All the speech he could manage.
Lady Janet laughed and trailed her fingertips down to the small of his back. “I believe that was an answer of sorts. Now, Marjorie dear, kiss his cock. Take the tip in your mouth and give it a little lick. Ah, yes, clever lass. That’s the way…”
He gasped, his hands tightening on his head as Lady Marjorie’s little pink tongue flicked back and forth across the sensitive head of his cock. “God’s blood…”
“Such blasphemy!” Lady Janet teased as she kissed his shoulder, then gently bit it, making him pant. “But you’ve been such an obedient and helpful Beast, and this requires a reward. I know you need to spend soon. Tell me, pet. Should I assist?”
“How?”
Almost idly, she caressed the hard, muscled curve of his backside. “Have you ever been touched here? The way you touched me by the campfire at the loch?”
“No,” he croaked.
“Would you like to be?” she asked softly before going up on her toes and pressing her mouth to his ear. “Would you like me inside you?”
Lachlan shuddered so hard that Marjorie squeaked in protest at the disruption to her play.
“Please,” he said, unashamed to beg for something he’d wanted, something he’d needed, for so long: complete and utter ownership of his body by this woman. “Please.”
“Very well. You’ll feel wetness. My own cunt juices. I’ll start with a fingertip.” Janet kissed his shoulder before peering around it. “Marjorie dear, can you manage two tasks at once? I should like to watch you touch yourself while you suck Lachlan’s cock.”
“My shift is in the way,” said Lady Marjorie uncertainly.
“Do you wish to remove it?”
The younger woman glanced at him and bit her lip. “Um…”
“I know it is awkward to be naked in front of a man for the first time,” said Lady Janet. “But I feel quite confident in stating that my Beast feels as much admiration for your curves as I do. Lachlan?”
“Beautiful,” he rasped. “So beautiful.”
Marjorie blinked in surprise, but moments later she took a deep breath, then tugged her shift over her head and tossed it away. He couldn’t help but stare at the bounty revealed: the soft, rounded lushness of her breasts and belly and hips; the tangle of brown bush covering her mound; the glimpse of delicate pink flesh between her stocking-clad thighs. It would be a fortunate husband indeed who rested his weary head on such fine pillows.
Yet as though the vision of naked perfection on her knees and kissing his cock wasn’t enough to heat his blood to boiling, the next thing he heard was the rustle of fabric behind him and the rubbing of slick flesh. He couldn’t see Lady Janet wetting her finger with her own honey, but he knew the exquisite clasp of that hot cunt, and just the sound of her arousal, her purpose, dampened the end of his cock with seed.
“Are you ready for me?” asked Lady Janet.
Only forever.
“Aye,” he replied. “Please.”
Her fingertips caressed his arse before delving between the cheeks to rim his back entrance, smearing it with her fragrant wetness. Then slowly, so slowly, one finger began to penetrate him. Lachlan groaned at the odd new
sensation, the slight burn as she stretched him, the way his body both resisted the intrusion and teased his senses with the promise of a greater pleasure than he’d ever known. “More.”
Lady Janet nipped his neck. “Did you hear that, Marjorie? My Beast wishes for more. Because he has been so obliging, we must grant his request. See if you can take his cock a little deeper in your mouth. Suck a little harder. And do not stop touching yourself.”
His low roar near rattled the furniture in the solar as Lady Marjorie dutifully did as she was bidden, and Lady Janet’s honey-wet finger pressed onward into his arse.
In. Out. In. Out. A rhythm, a friction to steal his wits.
“Can’t…hold on…” Lachlan gritted out, his whole body shaking.
“Marjorie,” said Lady Janet sharply. “Rest his cock between your breasts and squeeze it hard.” As Marjorie obeyed, Janet commanded, “Lachlan, you shall anoint those sweet pink nipples with your seed. Do it. Now.”
With a feral snarl, Lachlan’s back arched, and seed gushed from his cock onto Lady Marjorie’s breasts, covering them in a pearly, sticky mess. The younger woman continued to rub herself frantically between her legs and moments later reached her own release, her sobbing cry echoing in the solar.
When he and Lady Marjorie recovered their senses, and Lady Janet carefully removed her finger from his body, they both looked at her, awaiting their next instruction.
“Lady,” he said uncertainly, sure she must also need release. “You have not…”
“A truth,” replied Janet, stumbling over to the chaise. “Help me undress.”
Even in their post-release lethargy, he and Lady Marjorie obeyed with haste. Soon Lady Janet’s hood, girdle, dark-blue gown, kirtle, and shift lay draped over large floor cushions, leaving her clad in nothing but her stockings.
She arranged herself on the chaise, spread her thighs, and trailed a slow hand down from neck to jutting nipple to glistening mound with its flaming tangle of bush. All he and Lady Marjorie could do was watch, their gazes hungry.
Scandalous Passions (Highland Menage) Page 8