by Reece Butler
“If ye run from me, or dinna obey quickly, I will put ye over my lap.” Angus drew her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers. “Then I will raise yer skirts and spank yer bare arse with the palm of my hand.”
The softly spoken words were not a threat, but a promise. Her pussy spasmed, and her breasts swelled. Her tight dress made it impossible to inhale the air she needed. She wavered, trying to breathe. He held her until she steadied, then winked and nipped her knuckle. The small, sharp pain created another jolt of arousal.
“Do ye hear me, lass?”
His expression and tone asked more than whether she would obey. He asked if she would accept his punishment. Only, was it a punishment when she enjoyed it?
He must have understood her thoughts as his eyes flashed heat. His nostrils flared like a bull about to charge. If they had a room to themselves tonight, and a bed rather than a pallet or grass, what delights she would learn?
“Aye, husband I will obey ye,” she replied, loud enough for others to hear.
He nodded abruptly. She tugged on his shirt, gaining his attention once more. This time she whispered.
“And in return I expect ye to satisfy my lusts.”
* * * *
Angus raised his cup once again, accepting a toast from another eager to help him celebrate his wedding. Cameron and Lady Eloise seemed very pleased with themselves, as did the rest of the hall. Looking around he decided it was more likely the celebration was an excuse to eat and drink to excess. He needed his wits about him tonight so did not drain the cup as tradition demanded. Gillis, good brother that he was, took that part for him.
He did not let Gillis take all the strawberry tarts, however. Fiona loved them, and he enjoyed feeding them to her. He’d like to lick off the bits of pastry that had fallen between her breasts, but that had to wait. Fiona sat at his side at the head table. Neither of them were used to being the center of attention. He, at least, recognized most of the people. She knew no one well, even the man she’d just vowed to share her life with. She kept her attention on her trencher when it wasn’t on Lady Eloise or her new ring. A true lady, Cameron’s wife moved slowly so her young guest could copy her with no one the wiser.
“Ye are holding up well, wife,” he murmured.
“How long?” she asked, keeping her head low. Her strong replies in answer to the priest’s questions had surprised the man as much as her response to his kiss had delighted Angus.
“Eager to show yer obedience, are ye?” A flash of her eyes suggested she had something else in mind. He braced himself.
“Eager to be satisfied, more like,” she replied saucily.
He groaned, making her laugh. Darach leaned forward, catching his eye.
“I’ve gifted ye with my chamber for the bedding,” he said. “But just this night. My Lady Isobel will be needing it on the morrow, until I join her.” He was well into his cups and had not kept his voice down. The room erupted in cheers.
“‘Twas that yer room where I dressed?” asked Fiona eagerly. When Darach nodded her face lit up in delight. “It has a giant of a bed, and so soft!”
“‘Twill be the only thing soft in that room, other than yerself,” replied Angus as loud as Darach.
Roars of approval rang out, led by Darach and Cameron. A flush rose from between Fiona’s breasts. Angus’s cock had been hard since the moment he’d seen her in her finery. It was time to get her naked. He stood, his cup raised.
“Lady Eloise, Laird Lochiel, Clan Cameron, and guests, we thank ye for the feast, your hospitality, and good wishes on our wedding day. And for the very welcome gift of yer chamber,” he added to Darach. He lifted the cup to his lips as if drinking deep, though the wine touched his closed lips. The others drained theirs, slamming them down to be refilled. He raised his hand for silence.
“My lady wife has been ill and needs rest. I beg yer leave.” When Cameron nodded he scooped Fiona into his arms. She squeaked, burying her face in his chest at the laughs.
“Methinks yer wife willna be sleeping for a wee while,” roared Darach.
Raucous laughter burst out, along with comments more suitable to a barracks than a banquet. Gillis, cup in hand, followed them from the hall, acting as a barrier to any wishing to intrude.
“I can walk,” said Fiona when they neared the stairs. She squirmed to get down.
“Mayhaps, but I have a need to carry ye, wife. ‘Tis a pretty gown ye wear, and ye fair shine in it, but I want ye out of it.”
“Am I welcome in yer bed?” asked Gillis of Fiona.
“Aye, if ye dinna get drunk and slide under the table!”
“I’ll wait until the others have slid under it afore joining ye.” Gillis started to pour out his mug, then shuddered. “I canna waste it.” He looked to ensure they were hidden from the hall. “A wee kiss to tide me over?”
Fiona puckered up for him. Angus held her, grinding his teeth as Gillis took his time with an equally eager Fiona. When he backed away they were both panting. If she inhaled any deeper he was sure her breasts would escape the gown. That was his job, one he intended to do immediately.
Darach’s chamber was the closest to the hall. A maid stood in front of the door. She bobbed and opened it for them.
“None have been in this chamber since Auld Maggie prepared it.”
“Thank ye,” he replied. Another quick bob, and she was gone.
Darach might have issued the invitation to use the chamber, but the idea came from elsewhere, likely his lady mother. The maid had ensured none of his “friends” did something to ruin their time together. He looked around, Fiona still in his arms. Three walls were wood with the outside one of stone. The noise in the hall was a low rumble that should cover up most sounds. He wouldn’t object if they heard Fiona screaming his name a time or two.
Auld Maggie had ensured Darach’s bedchamber was welcoming. A fire and numerous candles helped light the room. There was a privacy screen in one corner. A tray covered with a cloth was set on one end of a table near the fire, along with a jug of wine and two cups. A small table was set beside the bed. It held a candle and a small vial.
The sweet oil.
His cock surged. It would be some time before he had Fiona alone again, or in a bed. He had a need to make her his. No, he corrected, he wished her to choose to be taken by him.
He wanted her eager lips circling his cock, licking and sucking until he could take it no more. Then he would kneel behind her and sink his cock into her pussy. He would stretch her ass with the oil, adding fingers of one hand while playing with her clit with the other. She would come hard, but he would not take his release. When she was ready, relaxed and languid, he would slide his cock deep into her ass. He would take the sweet torture until she came once more before he finally got his reward.
Before morning he and Gillis would take her together, joining the three of them as one.
Angus set Fiona’s feet on the floor, ensured she was steady, and then barred the door. He would open it later. If Gillis had to sleep on the stone floor in front of it for a time, so be it. Fiona waited where he had set her. She was not coy, gazing at her feet. She gazed at him with a lust that matched his own. He’d cursed Gillis for being such a fool as to be captured by the Campbells. Now he thanked the Fates for the result.
“Since ye were handfasted to Gillis, Lady Cameron did nay insist ye be brought to the chamber, stripped, and prepared by the ladies. So ye must put up with my fumbling fingers.”
It also meant they would not be watched to prove they consummated the wedding, and that no bloodstained sheet would be expected in the morning.
She held out her arms in invitation. “Fumble away, husband.”
He’d planned to get her naked quickly, but found himself reluctant to do so. She was no virgin, but they had not coupled as husband and wife, nor in such sumptuous surroundings. She deserved to be seduced, driven mad with desire until she begged for his cock.
He stalked her like a lone wolf intent on his prey. Her
eyes widened, her nostrils flared, and she licked her lips. Her chest heaved as she panted. He, at least, could inhale as deep as necessary. She lifted her face, eyes closed, expecting a kiss. She was far too tempting. One touch of her greedy mouth, and he’d be lost.
So he set fingertips on the side of her throat, trailing them over her bare collarbones and shoulder as he walked behind her. He captured her breasts in his hands, pulling her against him. She moaned, arching in encouragement. Her hands went behind her, seeking him out. That would not do. He was the one doing the seducing. Another time he would let her explore his flesh. Not this night. He took her hands and placed them over her own breasts.
“Hold yer gown up,” he ordered.
He tugged at her laces, pulling them wide. Her slim back was no longer marred by bruises from her time with Menzies and the Campbells. He and Gillis had seen the fading marks that first time they’d played in the sun. They’d said nothing to Fiona, not wishing to remind her of her past. The only bruises his wife would receive would be from bumps arising from life. She might get a few when they played rough, but nothing done in anger, as in her past.
He took hold of her gown. “Put yer hands on yer head.”
When she did her gown slid off her body. She was slender with a pair of breasts that drove him wild. Her flaming thatch matched the hair under her clasped hands. He could barely croak the words to have her step out of her gown. Keeping his eyes averted to reduce temptation, he placed it carefully over one end of the table. He could never afford a gown such as this. There were a few chests in Duncladach storerooms that may contain ancient gowns, but they had not been opened since his mother’s death.
A clean shirt was folded beside the tray. He recognized the stitching on a repaired shoulder tear as his own. Keeping his back to Fiona he stripped off his fine clothes and pulled the shirt on over his head. It went as far as his thighs. A wet drop immediately showed where his stiff cock touched. The shirt would help hold him back from thrusting into her immediately, again and again, proving she belonged to him.
Fiona rocked from her toes to heels, nervous yet eager. She stood straight without hiding her body. He was pleased she did not have a shy maid’s modesty. He’d heard of men who’d been married for years and had never seen their wife’s body. He waited to see what she would do.
It took her a moment to realize he was letting her take the initiative. She removed the net holding her hair. The movement brought his attention to her magnificent breasts. Breasts that now belonged to him, as did every other part of her. She shook her head and then scratched it with her fingers. The movement made her breasts jiggle enticingly. His balls tightened, and his cock jerked.
Her eyes dropped, aiming at the wet spot that poked out his shirt. A lazy, playful smile appeared. She turned, waited for a moment for him to appreciate her shape, and then walked on her toes toward the fire. Her breasts swayed, and her arse shifted enticingly. She put her back to the fire, leaving her face in shadow. The firelight outlined her body. She shifted her feet, spreading her legs. In sensual invitation, or innocence?
One hand went to her breast while another dropped to sift through her fiery thatch. That was no innocent gesture. He stalked her, his cock pointing the way.
Chapter Thirteen
Fiona didn’t know what had come over her when Angus removed her gown. She’d gone from being a near-invisible squire to a decoy, a prisoner, and then was shown sinful delights by two experienced men. Men she’d both married. The room was warm, the door was barred, and a soft bed awaited. So did a hard cock.
She was not tired. Far from it. She’d never felt so awake and alive in her life. Her husbands were huge men, strong and proud. Their fingers and tongues and cocks knew how to arouse her and make her shudder. Angus’s eyes stared hungrily as if devouring her from her toes on up. She squeezed her nipple between thumb and forefinger. It felt good, but she’d rather Angus touched her. Perhaps it was not knowing what he would do next that wound her tension so high that it snapped. She’d watched in hunger as he stripped and tossed his shirt over his head. She wanted to explore every curve and crevice of his hard body.
“Put yer hands back on yer head.”
Her swollen pussy throbbed in response to his curt order. Should she obey? This was her wedding night. A true one, with vows said before a priest. Once his cock slid inside her they were bound for eternity. Angus and Gillis said what they chose to do as husbands and wife, no matter what, was right. She’d sworn to obey him but that did not mean in the bedchamber.
“Nay,” she said, daring him to respond.
He reared back, eyes and nostrils wide. “Ye dinna know what that does to me, wife.”
She pointed. “It makes yer cock jump and yon wet spot spread.” She dared him with her eyes. “Methinks ye like a spark of defiance in yer wife.”
His eyes narrowed. She braced to run, though there was nowhere to go. He chuckled. The tension flowed from his body though not his cock. He poured wine, filling both cups.
“Aye, wife, yer wee spark heats my blood.” He held out the cup in invitation.
It was also a dare. To drink she would have to bring herself close to him. Her mouth and throat were dry. She was used to facing danger, though not sensual danger. This demanded her full attention. She did not fear him. It was the opposite. She thrilled at knowing she teased him, and that he enjoyed it.
The arousing tension came from not knowing when she would cross a line and he would attack. She shifted her feet. Her swollen pussy lips rubbed against her thighs. Fiona wanted him, wanted his power and control. In the eyes of the church and king, Angus MacDougal owned her body. He and his brother had promised that she, in return, had equal rights.
Moving sensuously, imitating the women she’d seen men’s eyes follow, she boldly approached her husband.
“Ye are playin’ with fire, wife,” he warned.
His eyes drilled into hers, hot and cold at the same time. A warning of delights he could provide and a promise that he would take from her what he wished. It would never be more than she was capable of giving. She took the cup he offered, drinking it down before her courage faltered.
She gasped, too late discovering the wine had not been watered. He chuckled, taking the cup back before she dropped it. She pressed her hand to her chest, coughing. By the time she was over the fit the wine had begun to burn in her veins. It gave her the courage to meet his dark, dancing eyes and speak.
“My life has been naught but cold ashes. ‘Tis time I felt some fire.”
She felt as well as saw him tense. Then it all flowed away, leaving him smiling good-naturedly. That, of course, did the opposite to her. He sipped his wine, watching her knowingly over his cup. Judging her, thinking of what he would do with her.
She’d set the rules of this game. Now it would play out his way. His eyes drifted down. Her nipples contracted, tingling. Her belly tightened and her pussy throbbed.
“So be it,” he whispered, as if to himself.
He slowly turned to place the cups on the table. His silhouette to the fire showed his broad chest and shoulders, lean hips, and taut buttocks. His hard, thick, cock jutted out. She moaned, remembering the taste of him. Then the hem of his shirt rose, inch by inch. She watched, holding her breath. When his cock sprang free her hands clenched as if to grasp it. He tossed his shirt aside, candlelight bright on his rippling muscles. He turned, frowning as he looked around. Then his eyes lit up. He pointed to the sheepskin before the fire.
“Kneel,” he ordered coldly. “Eyes closed. Hands behind yer back.”
In that position her mouth would be at the level of his cock. The wine had reached her brain, raising her heat even more. This time she obeyed, ensuring her knees were apart where they touched the soft surface. It had been too long since he’d touched her pussy. She clasped her right hand around her left wrist, resting them on the curve of her ass. She knew it thrust her breasts forward, and that her men liked it. She waited, eager to hold his cock and guid
e it into her mouth, to play with his balls and his arse.
He moved so silently he’d wrapped something around her wrists before she knew he was there. She pulled, but could not get them apart. Something went over her eyes, leaving her blind.
“What are ye do—”
“Silence!”
She trembled but in arousal, not fear. He would assert his authority over her this night. How he would do that, she did not know. He’d always been a tender lover, as had Gillis.
Perhaps he’d show a different side this night. After all, she’d pushed him and had released a beast. Not a monster but a feral creature, wild and demanding, a product of desire and strong wine. The matching beast within her burst forth. She moaned, clenching her pussy in anticipation of an explosion.
A sharp sting on her back cheek rocked her forward. He caught her shoulder, keeping her from falling.
“Dinna come without permission. Do ye ken?”
She had to hold back, delaying her release? She grimaced, then nodded. This was part of a game they played, one she was just learning. She trusted Angus would make her final release worth the wait. His fists sunk into her hair, caressing and soothing. She exhaled, loving his tenderness. He jerked, catching her unaware.
“Open,” he demanded.
She smelled his scent and parted her lips. The head of his cock touched her lips. She flicked out her tongue, eager to taste him. His low groan made her smile. She was bound and blindfolded. She followed his orders, but who was really in control?
It did not matter. Pleasure, for both of them, was all. And if part of that pleasure began with a touch of pain, it would be worth it.
* * * *
Angus admired his kneeling wife. He liked seeing Fiona bound and blindfolded. She easily accepted what he wanted, not knowing others would show disgust. Her face tilted up, lips wide to suck him deep. That she did this by choice, wanting to please him, was unthinkable. Yet it was true. He’d not known a woman like her. She was smart, strong, and determined yet also beautiful, sensual, and open to sharing them both.