A Perfect Wife [Highland Menage 6] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Reece Butler

  Duff caught her. He tossed her over his shoulder, doing it carefully, and carried her to the bed. Malcolm shifted to sit with his legs off the edge. Duff lifted Kiera off his shoulder. He flipped her so she landed belly first on Malcolm’s lap.

  “Thank ye, brother, ’tis perfect.” Malcolm held her down with one hand on her back while Duff flipped covers over her legs to stop her kicking. She waited just long enough before realizing her predicament. She had an excellent shriek.

  “We need tapestries to take up the noise,” said Malcolm, continuing to hold her down while pretending to ignore the struggling woman.

  Malcolm grasped her smooth right cheek with his palm. “I like what the stairs have done to yer arse.” He cupped it. She tensed, tightening the muscles under his hand. He lifted his hand and waited for her to relax. When she did the crack of a spank was immediately followed by an indignant shriek.

  “Oh, aye,” said Duff, “I like the sound of that.”

  “I do not!” replied Kiera.

  “Mayhaps we need to hear it again,” said Malcolm.

  She continued to shriek as he turned both cheeks a bright pink. He slid a hand between her thighs and, as expected, she was wet. He raised an eye. Duff knew what he meant and nodded his agreement. They flipped her onto her back. Duff laid his leg below her breasts. He easily held her there while Malcolm got comfortable by her feet. He bent her legs and spread her knees wide, opening her fully and inhaling the sweetest scent in the world.

  Kiera still muttered threats, all part of the game.

  Malcolm trailed a series of little sucking kisses, each an inch apart, from her belly button to her pussy. By the time he got there she no longer fought to move. He put his face between her legs and inhaled. Perfect.

  He rested his nose on the button of her clit and rubbed it back and forth for a while before starting circles. That put his tongue in the perfect position to taste her.

  “Mmm, ye smell good, lass, and ye taste better.”

  Using a light butterfly stroke he flicked his tongue over the top of her clit. He went all over the area using taps and strokes that were short and quick. He took his time. For once, they were not rushed. They had all afternoon to play if they chose.

  He started out light and increased the pressure as her breathing quickened. When he thought she was getting too close to her peak he moved down, separating her lips with his tongue. He used a light pressure, long strokes up and down. As soon as she started to tense he moved his tongue somewhere else. That got him growls of annoyance.

  Duff’s leg was in the way, so he couldn’t see what his brother did to Kiera’s breasts. From what he sensed, Duff was enjoying himself.

  Malcolm brushed her curls back to expose her clit. Such a lovely one, all pink and wet and swollen. It made him proud to do this to his woman. No one had made her feel these things until they showed her what joy could be.

  He swirled his tongue slowly around her clit, barely touching it in slow, ultra-light butterfly circles. Every now and then he took a break to breathe, using his fingers instead. But his fingers were thick and callused compared to his tongue. He increased the pressure until she squirmed under him, trying to lift her thighs to encourage him. When he thought she was near he put his lips around her clit and sucked.

  She moaned, lifting her hips. He backed away, chuckling. For a moment she did nothing, then he heard a growl of frustration. He sat up to watch what Duff was doing.

  His brother tapped lightly with his finger over her breast and around her areola. He brushed the tip of her nipple with his knuckle before switching to the other breast.

  Kiera glared at both of them when they looked. It was an aroused glare, her eyes shining with lips wet and open.

  He flattened her legs, spreading her ankles to try something new. Starting at her knees, he worked his way up her right thigh with slow kisses. Very slow, with tongue flicks. When he got near her pussy he started on her left knee. When he got close he breathed against her inner thighs, then her pussy. Using long, slow strokes, he separated her lips with his tongue. He alternated that with dancing over her with the tip.

  “Please!” she begged. “I need to come!”

  Duff lifted his leg, freeing her. Malcolm slid up the bed. His hard cock slipped into her wet heat. She lifted her legs, clasping her ankles behind his back to draw him deeper. She was close, but he wasn’t ready to let her come. That would be Duff’s job.

  He lifted himself on his palms, keeping his groin away from her clit, teasing rather than fulfilling. He went as slowly as possible for as long as he could. His balls finally clenched as he came. Lightning shot out his cock and into Kiera. He plunged into her three times before releasing.

  He hung there for a moment, unable to move.

  “Aargh!”

  Panting heavily, he grinned down at her fury. He kissed the tip of her nose, moving back before she could bite him.

  “I told ye, lass. Torture.”

  He slowly pulled out, groaning at the almost painful touch since he’d come so hard. He flopped on his back at Kiera's side, still fighting to breathe.

  Duff flipped Kiera onto her stomach, hauled her onto her knees at the edge of the bed, and plowed deeply into her. He wrapped an arm around her hips, aiming no doubt for her clit. Wet slaps filled the room. Five strokes, and Kiera screamed. Her face turned bright red. Duff roared his completion, standing tall and hauling her onto his cock as she continued to come. When he was done he held her tight to him as he fell to his side. As Malcolm had cuddled her before Duff’s arrival he let the two of them come back to earth with each other. Kiera’s smile warmed his heart.

  When he could breathe he struggled to his feet to get warm water and a cloth. He cleaned Kiera and then himself before rinsing and handing the cloth to his brother. Duff got off the bed to take care of things.

  Malcolm stretched out, exhausted and complete. “I need a wee nap after that.”

  “Aye, as do I,” agreed Kiera.

  She snuggled up to him, back to his chest, right where she should be.

  “As I wasna out drinking with the lads last night, I’ll let the two of ye have a wee nap,” said Duff. He dressed and opened the door. Just as he was about to go he turned back and grinned.

  “’Twas the best rainy day ever.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Good morn to ye, sweetling.”

  Duff tightened his hold on the full breast in his palm. Kiera’s belly still didn’t show she carried a babe, but her wonderful breasts had grown, much to his delight. They were also more sensitive.

  “Hush,” she murmured. “’Tis Michaelmas, our first feast day at Kinrowan. We can sleep for a wee bit more.”

  The rainy day rest had been needed. Bessie and the keeper hadn’t turned up in the hall for supper that night. The next day Ramsay had asked permission to marry her. Shortly after they’d jumped a broom in the bailey in front of all with the sun shining. A quick kiss and they’d all gone back to work. Since then Bessie slept in the keeper’s private room between the cellar and the first floor.

  The sun streaming in the east window showed they’d been lucky once more. Michaelmas celebrated the patron saint of the sea and sailors. It was celebrated by all those who depended on the sea, which provided fish, shellfish, and seaweed to eat. They also drew water to evaporate for precious salt. This allowed them to cure fish and meat for the winter. After the last weeks of work the tower cellars were well filled with barrels of fruit and root crops packed in straw, as well as grain. Carcasses of salted meat and mutton hung on the walls beside hams.

  “Cook said she’s making a flory for ye,” wheedled Duff. The pie, made with pork, onions, currants, raisins, and mushrooms, was Kiera’s favorite pie. It was new to them, something Cook learned from the chef kept by the castle’s French architect. “The lassies have picked enough brambles for sweet pasties as a treat.” His own stomach rumbled in anticipation.

  “Enough for the pot boy?” asked Malcolm.

 
Duff lifted his foot over Kiera’s legs to kick his brother. It was a joke between them but meant much to their clan. Though the three of them sat at the high board on a platform, it wasn’t because they were better than the rest, but so they could be seen and heard.

  He and his brother had worked in the fields and on the sea with their men. Their ability, and desire to be part of the work, had shocked many who’d lived elsewhere. They’d all worked hard. Duff didn’t think Kiera realized they’d kept her indoors with the women to keep her safe. There was so much work for everyone it was easy to ensure she did not go out.

  So much work that they’d not had time to play since the rainy day. Each night they’d fallen into bed exhausted, and then crawled out in the morning with little more than a kiss.

  “I see the sun! We are blessed this day.” Kiera pushed his hand away to sit, smiling brilliantly.

  Duff pulled her down to rest on her side, arse to his cock, once more. “I’ll bless ye, wife.” His hand found her clit.

  “Mmm, I like that.” She shifted to her back and opened her legs. “I have need of you, husband.”

  “Just one husband?” Malcolm took her breast in his hand. He grasped her nipple with his teeth.

  “Oh, nay. I wish to have both of you.”

  “She’s a greedy wee baggage,” said Duff. Her pussy was hot and wet, just the way he liked it. He kicked the covers away, following them toward the bottom of the bed. When he spread her legs her scent flowed into his nostrils. “Ripe for the plucking.” He kneeled, cupping the cheeks of her arse in his hands. Glistening pink folds, already swollen, peeked from under her dark curls.

  “Will you break your fast on me, husband?” Her voice was high and eager.

  Instead of answering he dropped his head. He started with a slow swipe of his tongue from the bottom of her pussy to above her clit to capture her juices.

  “God, Kiera, ye are sweet.”

  As Malcolm had a good grasp of her breasts with his hands and mouth, Duff concentrated on the matter at hand. He would never tire of this. Not her taste, her scent, or the eager cries that made him fight to keep from coming. He flicked his tongue over her clit. A gush of fluid was his reward. Her gasps and moans showed she was close to coming. So was he, but having one orgasm encouraged Kiera to have more while he and Malcolm were limited.

  He looked up in a silent question. Malcolm nodded in agreement. Duff concentrated on her clit and a moment later was rewarded when she stiffened. He didn’t stop until she slumped. Then he allowed himself the delight of tasting her fully.

  “Good morning, wife,” drawled Malcolm.

  A feminine groan was her only reply.

  “If ye’re too tired and boneless after that to sit on me, I shall ride ye,” said Duff.

  “Ye must lift my legs for I canna move.”

  “I can do that, my lady.” He bent her knees to make space for his body.

  Malcolm continued with her breasts. Duff held his cock at her entrance, waiting for her to open her eyes. When she did her welcoming smile took his breath away. Her eyes were green with passion.

  “Do ye wish my cock?” he asked.

  “Aye, but I canna peak again.”

  He growled at the challenge and slid in, clenching his teeth at her tight heat. Her orgasm had made her so wet that, though he was big, he fit easily. The slow slide of her flesh on his cock was amazing but it was the look of passion in her eyes as she stared up at him, her trust in him to please and care for her, that made this far more than a mere coupling.

  Slowly, in and out, he moved until she was once more gasping.

  He changed angles, searching for that spot that made her wild. She clenched around him. It was not a big orgasm but good enough for her second. Now she had peaked the tension in his balls was a need that had to be met. He sped up, plunging into her as her moans continued.

  “Mine!” he roared as he filled her.

  Replete, he fell to his side so not to crush her. He fought to breathe. He had a stupid grin on his face from making her come again and proving she was his.

  “I canna get up after that,” she said, groaning.

  “Stay where ye’re at,” said Malcolm, patting her haunch. “Duff has much to do to prepare for the feast. Isna that so, brother?”

  The last was said in an ominous lairdly tone. Though they were not laird and steward in this chamber they were still brothers with Duff the younger. He had started this feast day the best way possible. Kiera was too tired to let his twin do the same. If she rested a bit she may reward Malcolm the same way.

  He rolled off the bed. “Aye, much to be done. And as I am so much younger I have more strength to do it. I shall let my old”—he stressed the word—“brother rest.”

  “Ye’ll be paying for that in the games after our feast,” warned Malcolm.

  Duff put on his plaid, waving away his brother’s warning. “We’ll see who wins, old man.”

  “I’m barely ten minutes older,” called Malcolm before Duff shut the door behind him, chuckling at baiting him.

  His chuckle faded quickly once he was alone. Yes, he had much to do, starting with Fergus, who was training him in the duties of a steward. So far it had required too many hours huddled over a table going over lists as well as asking and answering dozens of questions. It suited Fergus, who lived in the end chamber on the second floor beyond the laird’s office. He had views to the north over the village toward the Ross side of the mile-wide stretch of sea, to the south into the bailey, and over the courtyard by the kitchen stairs. From there he coordinated the running of Kinrowan like a spider at the center of a web. Duff would learn from the man, but he would not spend his life in one room. He’d rather be out speaking with men than reading their reports. Often people didn’t understand what they’d seen unless you drew it out of them and put things together.

  He ran his hand over his face, slumping with the strain of keeping an easygoing smile while feeling overwhelmed. He would’ve been content, even happy, living in a small croft with Kiera and Malcolm. He’d dreamed of the three of them working together, using their hands and minds and bodies to create something from nothing. It would’ve been a hard life compared to this, though still far better than what they’d had at Duncladach. Instead, he was steward of an entire castle, one that Ross of Balnagowan wished to seize.

  He shook off the mood and put on his mask.

  It would be a full day. Kiera would be in her element, surrounded by her clan here and in the village. Knowing their wife, she would likely try to get to the shore. She’d miss the sunrise blessing of fishermen, nets, and boats by their new priest, Father Patrick. The feast would be held in the bailey. By the time it was cleaned up they’d be ready for some football. That would be the highlight of his time so far at Kinrowan. He would be outside, running and fighting for the ball. The thought of pounding his opponents would get him through the rest of the day.

  He used the garderobe, washed, and then listened at the door. He heard nothing so assumed they’d gone back to sleep. Both of them needed it. Malcolm only relaxed in their chamber. Duff figured his twin could use Kiera’s comfort as much as the release.

  He had a duty to his laird and their lady’s clan. He’d grab a tray of food on the way through the kitchen and break his fast with Fergus. It was a brilliant day, cool but not cold, and after the feast he’d be breaking a few heads, starting with his brother!

  * * * *

  Kiera smiled to herself within Malcolm’s strong grasp. His hand on her breast was more of a comfort hold than a way to arouse. After Duff left they’d both taken care of their morning needs and returned to bed. She was, she realized, content. The two orgasms Duff gave her had relieved the strain that had been building.

  She floated, neither awake or asleep, just…content.

  Malcolm’s slow, regular breathing and the slack grip he had on her breast convinced her he was asleep. This was a rare thing, something to cherish. She’d had times like this with Duff at the sheiling, but
had not been alone, awake while Malcolm slept very often. He was with his brother most of the time and since they had much to do they’d not had time to play. Play was for long, cold, winter nights. She would enjoy this snuggling while she could.

  As he was asleep, and they were alone, she took a chance.

  “I ken you canna return it, but I love you, Malcolm MacDougal,” she whispered. “You are a good man, a kind man who puts his people afore himself. That alone endears you to me. When I lie with you like this your strength, courage, and honor canna be seen. But it is always there.”

  Kiera’s breathing slowed as she relaxed into him. She would remember this moment when she was furious with him, or he was away. She’d remember and feel blessed.

  She drifted, letting sleep take her where it would go, knowing she was safe in the arms of one she loved.

  * * * *

  Malcolm fought to keep his breathing slow and regular. Kiera loved him? How could she? He was a nothing compared to her. Though he was laird of a castle beyond his wildest dreams, it was not what he was born to be. Though he detested lies, he was living one. They called him laird and looked up to him but it was all due to his marriage with Kiera. He was an unschooled, barely literate man from the west coast who’d had to scramble all his life to survive. How dare he think he could rule over people?

  Kiera had grown up with men who should have been great as they’d been sons of powerful lairds. Some had even been educated at St. Andrews in Edinburgh while he barely knew his letters. It was still more than her father, who’d admitted to needing a hand guiding his quill when he signed his name on their marriage contract.

  But, though MacKenzie could neither read, nor write, he was a wily man with power over more land than any other in the Highlands. How could Kiera think of him in the same league as her father? He had no right to a woman like this, yet she’d chosen to marry them both.

  Perhaps it was the babe she carried. He’d heard women got notional when carrying one. But women got notions to do strange things when they weren’t, as well. From what Laird MacKenzie said, his lack of knowledge about women had nothing to do with growing up without them. Most men, it seemed, were confused by females.