“It’s never been this good before,” Graeme admitted. “With you two it’s something else entirely from anything I’ve done before.”
Avril bit Graeme’s neck and he arched into her mouth. She sucked the spot, and when she pulled away she’d left a purple bruise that seemed to please her as she licked it. “It was never like this with my late husband,” she said. “Even then I liked it. I won’t lie. But he was a conventional man and took his pleasure without worrying about mine. What you two do to me is nothing like that cold coupling.”
“Woman, you haven’t seen anything yet,” Graeme growled and Avril’s laughter was cut short when he took her breast in his mouth and sucked hard. She cried out, and Conall grabbed her hips to hold her still so he could enter her. When he did she was so wet and hot and swollen on his cock he had to groan and bite his cheek to keep from coming right then and there. Graeme reached up and yanked on his hair and the sting pulled him back from the edge.
“Don’t you dare come yet,” Graeme warned. “You started something. Now finish it.”
Conall grunted, incapable of speech without losing control. He thrust into Avril until he felt good and slick with her cream, then he slid out as she protested. He slapped her bottom, harder than he would have before Graeme had come to their bed and he saw him do the same thing. Avril stopped protesting, but she humped Graeme in desperation, moaning. Conall rubbed the red hand mark on her lily-white skin, liking the look of it. No wonder Graeme liked a little slap and a pinch now and then.
“She likes it,” Graeme said, as if reading Conall’s mind. Their eyes met and the heat between them smoldered, hot and expectant.
“Aye,” Conall murmured, “she does. I might too.” His stomach clenched a little at the confession, not sure how Graeme would take it. Conall wasn’t disappointed as Graeme’s cheeks flushed and his stare heated even more.
“Good,” was all Graeme said. It was enough to make Conall’s cock jerk.
“You’ll like it,” Avril panted. “If I know my men, and I do, you’ll like it.” Conall grinned and then pressed the tip of his cock against the pink rose of her bottom.
“And if I know my woman, she’s going to like this,” he told her. Graeme grabbed her waist and lifted her into position.
“Shouldn’t I go in first?” Graeme asked him.
“Yes.” Conall shook his head. “I’m a little overeager.” Graeme’s grin did odd things to him, making him feel breathless and unsteady.
Graeme lowered Avril down onto his cock and they both moaned as Avril threw her head back and shuddered and Graeme closed his eyes. “I can’t last long,” Graeme bit out. “You made her so wet and hot for it, Conall. Hurry. I want to feel you inside with me.”
“Yes,” Avril moaned. “Yes. Inside.” She lowered her forehead to Graeme’s shoulder, presenting her pretty bottom to him, his mark still on her pale cheek, the little rosette he planned to plunder beckoning him.
“Go slow,” Graeme warned him. “You have to ease in there a little at a time. Remember?”
Conall’s bottom clenched and he swallowed around the tide of lust pulling him under. “I remember,” he said, and he did, every moment of Graeme fucking into him.
Following Graeme’s advice he pressed against Avril slowly, gently, but the resistance was too great. Finally he pulled away, held on to his cock and thrust a bit harder, breaking her open so that his cockhead slid inside. She was so tight he cursed. Avril cried out, and Conall looked up to see Graeme holding her cheek to his shoulder now, his hand pressed to the side of her head. She moaned and pushed back against him, her eyes closed.
“Go on,” Graeme told him. “I can feel how much she likes it by the way her cunt is choking me.”
Conall took several deep breaths and then pushed again, going in an inch or two more.
“Stop,” Graeme said. He froze. “Now pull out just a bit and thrust in again,” Graeme explained. “It will loosen her up and make it easier for both of you, and more pleasurable for her.”
Conall nodded and followed Graeme’s directions. Before long Avril was moaning with each thrust, her face tight with concentration, her eyes still closed, pushing back against him, wanting more. With a rough thrust, he seated himself inside her incredibly tight passage and she cried out.
For long seconds they stayed still, adjusting to the wondrous feeling of the three of them connected like this. Conall could actually feel Graeme’s cock inside her, their lengths pressed together in her body, and it was like fucking both of them at the same time.
“Oh, God,” Avril said with a little sob. “It’s so good having both of you inside me. I never imagined I could take you both at the same time.”
“Damned good,” Graeme growled. The muscles in his arms around Avril were corded with the effort to hold still.
“This is what I want,” Conall said fiercely. “This wild thing, this feeling, this way with the three of us.”
“Yes,” Graeme said, arching his neck, his eyes closed. Conall felt his cock jerk against Graeme’s.
“Now, we fuck,” Conall said, and Graeme grinned as he opened his eyes and looked at him.
“Yes,” he answered. He kissed Avril’s temple. “Are you ready, darling?”
She nodded. “Beyond ready. Please.” She wasn’t begging, but both men could tell she wanted it, wanted them, wanted to be possessed like this.
“I pull out, and as I push in you pull out,” Conall instructed him. He followed his directions with action, and Avril gave a sensual little hiccup of a moan and tried to move. “Stay still,” Conall told her. “Tonight it’s your turn to just get fucked.”
“Yes, sir,” she said with a cheeky little grin against Graeme’s shoulder that Conall wasn’t sure he’d seen before but was instantly enamored of. He wanted to see that grin every day from now on, no matter what it took.
There were no more words as he and Graeme began the intimate dance of fucking their woman together. There was a certain amount of control involved that he couldn’t give up, not without hurting her. And it was good because it made him last longer, made him enjoy the feeling of being together like this. At some point he slid his hand over Graeme’s on Avril’s waist and Graeme turned his hand and clasped Conall’s. They fucked her like that, connected, giving to her and holding each other. Finally Conall could feel the burn of his orgasm building and building and he knew he couldn’t hold it back any longer.
“I’m going to come,” he said, his voice breaking a little with the effort of still holding back.
“Avril first.” Graeme pushed Avril up off his shoulder until she rested on her hands, still bent over him. He leaned up and bit her nipple as he thrust into her hard and Avril cried out. Conall followed his lead, increasing the force and pace of his thrusts, and in moments Avril was crying out as she came, gripping his prick so hard in her bottom that Conall shoved deep and stayed there as his orgasm washed over him. Pleasure pulled him in until he was drowning in it and it felt as though his release was pulsing from his fingers and toes as well as his cock. Vaguely he heard Graeme curse and then groan as inside he felt the heat of Graeme’s release and the pulse of his cock. It was the most intimate thing they had ever done, the most intense and pleasurable and amazing thing.
By the time Conall had cleaned Avril off she was already asleep in Graeme’s arms. So Conall rinsed the cloth and washed off Graeme too before cleaning himself. It was the first real thing that made him feel like a husband, not just to Avril but to Graeme, which was an odd notion but one he rather liked.
He crawled into the cot beside them, pulling the plaid blanket over the two of them and then grabbing his own. Graeme lay there silently, watching him take care of them. When Conall was settled on his side he and Graeme just stared at each other for endless minutes, so much emotion between them. Finally, Graeme spoke.
“When this business with the Russians is over, I want you to sell out.”
“And you?” Conall asked, ready to fight about it.
/> “Of course,” Graeme said. “I’m not sure I’m able to play the country squire and raise your sheep, but I’m willing to try.” He cleared his throat and looked away, but Conall knew he wasn’t done. “I expected to spend my life alone, in the Ninety Third, and to die that way. Perhaps here in the Crimea, even.” He licked his lips. “Now, I can’t imagine my life without you and Avril. You mean everything to me.” He looked back at Conall. “Do you understand? Before you two, there was no me. Just an empty shell going through the motions. Then somewhere along the way I began to dream of more. With you. And then with Avril.”
“At Balaclava,” Conall told him. Graeme frowned in confusion. “After you saved my life, I was lying there in your arms and your eyes met mine and that was the first time I thought there could be more.” Conall reached out and ran the backs of his fingers along Graeme’s beard-covered jaw. “It shocked me. Scared me. I came back and tried to ignore it. Then Ham straightened me out, made me see I was wasting my second chance. But there was that one moment, and it changed everything.”
“Yes,” Graeme said in his simple fashion.
“When did you love me?” Avril asked quietly, opening her eyes, her cheek pressed against Graeme’s chest as he held her close.
“I loved you before that,” Conall told her. “Loved you the minute I saw you and thought you’d never give two minutes to a foolish boy like me.”
“You were never a foolish boy to me,” Avril said. “I always wanted you like a woman wants a man, and at first I was shamed by it, you being so young.”
“Avril, I’m twenty-two years old, hardly a babe.”
“I’m twenty-seven,” she said, biting her lip nervously. “I don’t think I can have babies, Conall. I should have told you that before you married me.”
“Why?” Graeme asked, smoothing his hand along her unbound blonde hair over and over.
“Well, I was married for six years and never conceived,” she said. “It became obvious. It’s why I didn’t hesitate to have intimate relations with either of you. No consequences.”
“Marriage isn’t a consequence?” Conall asked with a laugh. His heart was near to bursting with love as the three of them lay there making lovers’ small talk.
“I suppose so,” Avril said with a smile. “If so, I gladly accept it.”
“It took you long enough,” Conall groused playfully and she lightly punched his shoulder. He caught her hand and kissed her fist.
“Avril,” Graeme said thoughtfully, “when was the last time you bled?”
Avril looked startled for a moment and then she blushed. “I don’t know,” she mumbled.
Conall frowned and thought about it. “Not since we’ve been together,” he said, his heart racing.
“Not while we were together,” Graeme said.
Avril licked her lips nervously. “It’s been almost two months, I reckon,” she said. “You don’t think?”
“I think it’s a good thing your foolish boy married you,” Graeme said, humor in his voice. He grew serious. “That does it, then. We’ll be selling out as soon as we can.”
“Truly?” Avril said, hope in her voice. “I love you both so much. I can’t stand the thought of losing you here.”
“Truly,” Conall promised her. “I came for war and found love. I choose love.”
“I choose love,” Graeme agreed.
“I choose love,” Avril said, kissing first Graeme and then Conall. She lay back down on Graeme’s chest but left her hand over Conall’s heart. Conall covered it with his own and closed his eyes.
“Good. That’s settled just the way I want, then,” Conall said sleepily.
Graeme snorted and then took Conall’s other hand in his. The three fell asleep just like that.
THE END
If you enjoyed this story, please turn the page for an excerpt from book three in The 93rd Highlander series, BRODIE.
BRODIE
Balaclava, Russia
October 25, 1854
“First line down!” Lieutenant Brodie Fletcher shouted at his men. They were standing at the end of the valley, the last British line of defence against the charging Russian cavalry, all that stood between the advancing Russians and the port of Balaclava at their back. Brodie hadn’t expected a fight today. The last line of defence meant exactly what it sounded like, and he’d counted on the front lines to turn the Russians back before they reached the 93rd. More shots rang out and Brodie waved the second line forward to fire back as the first line dropped to their knees and reloaded their weapons.
The pipe that had been sounding the call suddenly made a gurgled sound and fell silent. Brodie’s heart stopped. His best friend Captain Alec Bruce was the piper for the 93rd. Without a second thought Brodie leaped to his feet and started to dash toward the last place he’d seen and heard Alec. Had he been shot? Sabered? Trampled? Suddenly a horse was in front of him, stopping him and he glanced up angrily to see his brother, Major Douglas Fletcher, glaring back.
“Get back to your men,” Dougie shouted.
“Alec,” Brodie said, pushing at the horse’s side.
“You can’t help him now,” Dougie said harshly. “Don’t be a fool. Do you want a court martial? Get back to your men.”
Brodie glanced over his shoulder at his troops, patiently waiting for orders, their training shining through. It was then Brodie realized the shooting had stopped. He looked back down the valley and watched the Russians retreating, two volleys all it took to scare them off.
“Get your men in order and then find Alec,” Dougie said not unkindly. “I’ll see what I can do.”
It only took minutes for Brodie to ascertain that there were no injuries among the men under his command. He turned and ran for Alec’s last location, his heart beating a frantic tattoo, his chest so tight he had trouble pulling in a good breath.
When he finally saw Alec sitting on the ground, someone leaning over his leg, he was able to breathe again. He rushed over to his side and when Alec looked up at him with amused hazel eyes, a wry grin on his face, Brodie’s relief was so great he dropped to his knees where he stood.
“Brodie,” Alec said with a grin. “I fell in a hole and twisted my ankle. Can you believe it?” He laughed. “Clumsiest piper in the army, that’s what my medal will say.”
At his laughter tears sprang to Brodie’s eyes. “I thought,” he said breathlessly. He couldn’t go on, didn’t even want to put it into words. He turned so that the fellow bandaging Alec’s ankle couldn’t see his distress.
It only took a moment before understanding dawned on Alec’s face. “Ah, Brodie,” he said quietly. “Go on now,” he shooed the other man away loudly. “My ankle is fine. Christ on a crutch, I can walk for God’s sake.”
The soldier threw up his hands in disgust. “Fine, you sorry bastard. Don’t come crying to me to carry you home.”
“I’ll help him,” Brodie said, his composure back. He cleared his throat. “He is a sorry bastard, for sure.”
“So much for compassion,” Alec said, rolling to his knees. He tried to rise on just one leg, hopping up, and Brodie grabbed him just as Alec reached out for his hand. “I just need a minute to work the stiffness out,” Alec said, gingerly setting his foot down before he yanked it back up with a wince.
Brodie sighed. “Don’t be stubborn,” he told him, loving every minute of Alec’s complaints. “Let me help you. I don’t mind.” Normally Alec had a sunny disposition, enough to make some men crazy, truth be told. But Brodie had always liked that about him, thought they rubbed along well because Brodie was much the same. A joke and a laugh with a smile was better conversation than frowns and angry words, in his opinion, and Alec agreed. But today Alec could be as unpleasant as he wanted and it was music to Brodie’s ears.
“Brodie,” Alec said, and Brodie could tell he was going to say something about his reaction, about the tears.
“Don’t,” he said. “Don’t tell anyone.” He looked at the ground as if watching Alec trying to wa
lk on his injured leg.
“Like pretty Miss McMillan?” Alec said roughly. “She seems like a lass who’d appreciate a man with finer sensibilities.”
The day before Brodie would have taken the teasing and said something smart right back. It was common knowledge he was pining for the colonel’s daughter and Alec teased him about it mercilessly. Hell, an hour ago he’d have told anyone who’d listen that she was what he wanted more than anything. But he couldn’t stop reliving that moment he’d thought Alec was down, perhaps dead. And the feeling of acute relief when he’d seen him alive and well. Those weren’t the feelings of a friend. He wasn’t sure what they were, and it confused the hell out of him. He had no jokes today, no more smiles. “Please, Alec,” he whispered, not meeting Alec’s stare. He wasn’t even sure what he was asking for.
“All right, Brodie,” Alec said. “I won’t tell anyone. You know I wouldn’t.” Alec squeezed his shoulder and when Brodie looked up he was snared by Alec’s heated gaze.
“Lieutenant Fletcher,” someone called out to him. He looked away from Alec to see a young soldier hurrying toward him. “I’m sent to fetch you. Your brother Captain Fletcher is down. He was hit by a rifle butt and broke his arm.”
“A rifle butt?” Brodie said, confused. “But the Russians didn’t get that close to the line.”
“It was one of his own men,” the young soldier said with a laugh. “So excited at the Russian retreat he was spinning around with a loaded rifle. Your brother tried to stop him and he accidentally broke his arm.” The soldier looked around and then leaned in with a grin. “He fainted dead away,” he whispered loud enough to be heard by anyone within five feet. He burst out laughing. “Came to cursing a blue streak.”
Alec laughed and Brodie felt his body shake as the laughter escaped him because he was pressed against Brodie’s side with his arm around Brodie’s shoulders. It made him suddenly aware of Alec’s weight against him, the heat of his body under Brodie’s hand where it rested on his waist tucked under Alec’s jacket. He felt a stirring inside, a warmth and awareness that traveled straight to his dick with a shiver. He liked the feeling. He’d chased skirts all over Scotland and beyond because he liked the feeling. He knew it well. He just hadn’t expected to feel it with Alec.
Conall: The 93rd Highlanders, Book Two Page 14