Highland Wolf Pact Compromising Positions: A Scottish Werewolf Shifter Romance

by Selena Kitt

  “That stubborn fool was still gonna walk out, e’en after he’d heard me propose—and her refuse, a’course. I fully expected him t’barge in and go after me like a bat outta hell. I had Aiden and Angus waitin’ to come to me aid if need be, jus’ to restrain ’im. But e’en after all that, he was not gonna back down. So—I locked ’em in there together.”

  Kirstin heard Sibyl shouting—screaming at Raife. Weeks of pent-up anger and hurt and frustration that she was finally allowing herself to feel and say. It didn’t help that she was with child. The bairn made her far more emotional than usual.

  “We should start makin’ wagers on how long they’ll be in there,” Aiden said with a chuckle, nudging his brother.

  “I jus’ hope he does’na bust up m’grandfather’s desk and bookshelves.” Donal winced.

  “Wait...” Kirstin cocked her head, eyes widening in surprise. “It’s quiet...”

  “He did’na kill ’er, did he?” Donal whispered.

  “Mayhaps she killed ‘im,” she countered, listening for any sound.

  She heard Sibyl give a cry and for a moment thought she might be hurt. Kirstin took a step toward the door, and then another sound followed the first. This one much clearer in origin.

  “That’s not t’sound of someone bein’ murdered.” Donal grinned.

  “Mayhaps we should give ’em some privacy?” Kirstin waved the two big men away who had leaned in closer to the door. Angus actually had his ear pressed right up to it. “Shoo! Both of ye, go! Moira has roast chicken in t’kitchen. Go do what ye do best! Go eat!”

  Aiden and Angus grumbled about it, both of them grinning ear to ear at the sound of Sibyl’s moans of pleasure, but they went, as instructed.

  That left Kirstin and Donal standing in the hallway, grinning at each other like fools.

  “That gives me an idea.” Donal jerked his thumb toward the closed, locked door, behind which Sibyl and Raife were making unholy noises, pulling Kirstin to him with his other arm around her waist.

  “Tonight...” she whispered, putting her hands against his chest and pushing, but he wrapped both arms around her, not budging.

  “Now,” he growled in her ear, his big, muscled thigh sliding between hers as he pressed her against the tall, oak door. “I wanna make love t’ye in a bed, in a room wit’ windows. I wanna see yer beautiful body in the daylight.”

  She couldn’t resist him. Not with the clear sounds of Sibyl and Raife mating on the other side of the door and Donal’s rising erection pressed hard against her hip. She wanted him like she always wanted him. Desperately, hungrily, without question or reserve.

  “Aye,” she whispered, tilting her head so he could have better access to her throat. His kisses were hot and greedy, his hands roaming over her even though anyone could come down the hall at any moment.

  “Come wit’ me,” he demanded, grabbing her hand and leading her down the hall. They went upstairs, passing maidservants on the way, as well as both Aiden and Angus, who had been waylaid by two pretty girls before they reached Moira’s kitchen. Angus’s brows went up as Donal dragged Kirstin through the castle. She stumbled after him, blushing from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes, realizing every single person who saw them must know where they were going, and why...

  But when Donal got her into his room, slamming the door behind him and locking it, she didn’t care anymore who heard them. They were on each other like animals, tearing at each other’s clothing like they couldn’t get skin to skin fast enough. Donal’s bed was one befitting the laird of Clan MacFalon, a huge four-poster affair, so high there was a stool beside it. The thought of him sleeping there alone at night made her crazy. The thought of him sleeping there with someone else?

  That was unfathomable.

  “Kirstin, m’love,” he whispered against her lips, pulling off the last vestige of her clothing, her shirt over her head, leaving her bare before him.

  Donal went to his knees, looking at her in the bright light spilling in from the tall windows, gaze sweeping her from head to toe and back again. Then his eyes settled between her legs, at the soft patch of fur there.

  “Lemme see ye,” he murmured, using his big hands to part her thighs. “Open yer cunny fer me.”

  She slid a hand down to do as he asked, using her fingers to spread her swollen sex, showing him everything he wanted to see. The look of lust in his eyes went from white hot to molten in an instant. Donal growled, wrapping his thickly muscled arms around her and burying his face between her thighs. Kirstin cried out, his tongue lapping at her like a dog, up and down and back again, a fast, frenzied motion that made her thrash, head going back, hips thrust forward. She grabbed a handful of his hair, grinding against his face, against the fierce, hot lash of his tongue.

  The man’s mouth was absolute magic.

  “Donal, nuh, nuh, please,” she begged him, knees beginning to buckle, unable to hold her weight under such an onslaught.

  He pushed her back against the side of the bed, pulling her legs up over his powerful shoulders, and in one swift motion, he stood, vaulting her up onto the mattress. Kirstin squealed, laughing as she flew through the air, landing breathless in the middle of his bed. It was like landing on a cloud.

  Donal crawled up after her, pulling his shirt off, leaving him naked and stalking her, his erection bobbing between his legs as he knelt up between hers. Kirstin thought he would slide inside her, but instead, he pushed her knees back, all the way to her ears, bending her body near in half before leaning in to fasten his mouth over her mound.

  “Ohhhhhh my God!” she cried, getting a very clear view of him parting her swollen lips with his tongue, teasing the little button at the top of her cleft, then sliding down to dip into the pink hole of her sex. He drank her up, eyes locked on hers, watching the pleasure rise with the flush on her cheeks.

  “Donal! Oh please! Donal!” She called for him, begging, pleading, wanting nothing more than this sweet torture to come to its final conclusion—or, mayhaps, never to end at all. But it couldn’t go on forever, and she finally surrendered to him, her body giving in, as it always did, to his demands.

  “Och! Ohhhhh yes, yes!” She moaned and writhed, her sex clenching and releasing with her climax, toes curling, feet braced against his shoulders. Her body twisted and vaulted on the bed, but Donal had her hips grasped in his hands, refusing to allow her to go too far.

  “Aye, aye, lass, that’s so good,” he murmured, kissing her juicy thighs—she’d already made his covers wet. “A vera good start.”

  “Start?” she panted, taking a deep breath as he let her loose, allowing her legs to slide back down, past his shoulders, settling around his waist as he leaned over to kiss her.

  “Taste yerself.” He pushed his tongue deep into her mouth. “How good ye taste. I could eat ye fer breakfast, lunch and supper and still have ye fer dessert.”

  She blushed at his words, feeling her body sing with them. Nothing affected her like this man, the words he spoke to her when they were alone together. No one knew her like he did, had ever known her this way. It had happened so fast, this falling, it almost felt like flying.

  “I wanna taste ye,” she urged, reaching down to grasp his shaft.

  Donal gave a little grunt of pleasure, letting her yank him closer with each stroke, until he was in her mouth, straddling her. Kirstin swallowed his length, greedy to taste him deep in her throat. She loved the way he moved, the way he gathered her hair in his hands and simply used her mouth for his pleasure. It readied her for him more quickly than anything else, feeling the soft, velvety head of his cock slipping between her lips again and again. Her hands roamed over the glorious terrain of his body, his powerful thighs tense as he stroked himself in and out of her wet, swollen mouth, his sack swaying below, caressing her throat with each thrust.

  “Och, wait, wait,” he cried, pulling back, sliding himself out of her mouth with a soft popping sound. His erection swayed above her head, just out of reach, a thick stran
d of white hot liquid dripping from the tip to fall onto her waiting tongue. She swallowed it, eager for more, but Donal rolled off, reaching for and taking her with him.

  “Ride me,” he commanded, stretching out on his back and grabbing his cock in his fist. “C’mon, lass. Climb on n’go fer a ride.”

  She gave the head of his cock one last kiss before she straddled him, knees on either side of his hips as she eased herself down onto his length. Donal looked at her with half-closed eyes, watching her slide down slowly until they were joined completely, as one. Kirstin felt him buried deep in her womb, the crown of his cock so far inside her she ached. It was a delicious sort of pain and she moved her hips, grinding, feeling him rock back and forth inside her.

  “That’s it, lass,” he urged, his hands moving to try to span her waist as she undulated on top of him. “Ride me. Mmm, faster.”

  Her hips rocked, finding their own rhythm, her body in control. Donal reached up to cup her breasts, heavy and swaying, her nipples hard, the flesh around them pursed as if they were asking to be touched. She moaned when he pinched them, that delicious pleasure-string between her breasts and sex zinging like a plucked lute strung, making her ride him faster, harder.

  Donal wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in for a kiss, the velvet tip of his tongue stroking the roof of her mouth, sending hot tingling sensations through her limbs, all the way to her fingers and toes. He began to thrust from underneath, faster and harder than she was able, making her moan into their kiss, carried away by the sensation.

  “Sit up,” he urged, pushing her back, hands on her hips. Kirstin sank down fully on him again with a low moan, her head going back, hair grazing his thighs as they rocked together.

  “Look,” he urged, grasping her hips, pushing and pulling her, back and forth, rocking himself deep inside her. “Look at yerself, m’love. See how beautiful ye’re.”

  Kirstin caught a glimpse of herself in a looking glass on the bureau across the room and stopped for a moment, blinking in surprise. She saw herself, full-breasts and hips, hair falling over her shoulders like a midnight waterfall.

  “D’ye see what I see?” His hands moved up over her curves, cupping the full weight of her breasts.

  “Aye,” she whispered, looking from her reflection back down to him again.

  “She’s mine,” he reminded her, tracing a finger down the center of her body, between her breasts, dipping briefly into her navel before traveling further south. “Yer mine, Kirstin. I’ll ne’er let another man look at ye, let alone touch ye. No other man or wulver’ll e’er claim what’s mine. D’ye ken?”

  “Aye,” she whispered, nodding, feeling tears pricking her eyes. She wanted to drown out all the voices in her head—Raife and Sibyl, Laina and Darrow—everyone who had said it was impossible, that her being with this man couldn’t be.

  But it was.

  She had seen it for herself in the mirror, the two of them joined, connected in a way she’d never been with any other man before. He was changing her, day by day. Her body was transforming, becoming fuller and rounder, her breasts heavier, her sex fuller, always moist and ready for him. She was nearer her estrus with every passing moment.

  “C’mere.” He pulled her down to him, cupping her face in his hands and kissing the tears that had spilled down her cheeks. “Do’na cry. N’matter what happens, I’ll let nothin’ come b’tween us, m’love. I promise ye.”

  She nodded, swallowing past the lump in her throat, wanting to believe him.

  “Shhh.” He slid her off him, rolling and spooning her from behind, wrapping his big arms around her completely, drawing her body against his. His erection slipped between her thighs, riding up and down the seam of her sex.

  “I love ye, Donal,” she whispered, leaning her head back against his shoulder, seeing their vision in the looking glass, her expression of pleasure crossed with pained surprise when he impaled her on his length, settling her deep in the saddle of his hips.

  “And I love ye,” he murmured, kissing her lips as he began to move. He rocked into her from behind, keeping her caught against him, completely contained, her arms crossed over her breasts, his hands cupping them, restraining her from any movement.

  She could thrash and writhe and squirm, but to no avail. She was his.

  “Donal,” she cried, feeling him throbbing inside of her, filling every available bit of space. “Oh Donal, m’love, aye, aye...”

  “Tell me,” he whispered, his lips against her ear, hips moving, their bodies slapping together. “Tell me yer mine.”

  “Aye,” she panted, surrendering, knowing it was truer than he might ever know. Even if she had to be parted from him, she would belong to him, always. “Aye, Donal, aye, I’m yers, always, always...”

  Her words made him drive in deeper, the wet sound of their bodies moving together filling the room. Donal kneaded the flesh of her breasts in his big hands, pinching her nipples, making them pucker and ache.

  “Please,” she pleaded with him, the sensation between her legs almost unbearable, something coiled tight in her belly, waiting to snap. She couldn’t stand much more. “Oh Donal, I beg ye, please, please...”

  “What do ye want, m’love?” he asked softly, his teeth capturing her earlobe, biting down gently, making her cry out. “Tell me what ye want.”

  “I want ye,” she cried, writhing in his arms on the bed, undulating her hips, trying to take more of him, all of him, swallow every bit of him up. “Och, please, I want ye, I want to feel ye fill me. I want yer seed. I need it, please, give it t’me!”

  She felt his body tense, both of his hands sliding down from her breasts, over her belly, reaching between her legs to cup her mound. Kirstin gasped when he rolled to his back, taking her with him, parting her legs as he thrust up from underneath. She saw the four posters of the bed, the high ceiling above, as he drove her upwards toward it, his fingers playing between the wet, swollen lips of her sex.

  “Ahhhh! God!” She shuddered as he made fast, furious circles against the sensitive button at the top of her crevice, sending shooting stars through her body.

  “Give it t’me,” he growled, bucking his hips up fast and hard, pounding into her, an impossible rhythm. “It’s mine, Kirstin. Yer mine. Give it t’me.”

  “Aye!” She howled and shuddered, arching on top of him as her climax overtook her. Her body shook on top of his, both of them slick and slippery with sweat, her sex clamping down hard around his throbbing shaft.

  “Och, lass, yer cunny!” he gasped, and she cried out again when he rolled her once more, this time all the way over to her belly, crushing her with his weight as he spread her velvety thighs with the hard, muscled press of his own, opening her completely to the incessant, aching pound of his cock.

  “Donal!” she gasped, breathless, unable to say anything else as he grabbed her shoulders, giving two last, hard thrusts and then collapsed on her completely with the force of his trembling weight. His seed burst deep and hot in her belly, white, pulsing rivers of the stuff, so much it spilled out of her. She could feel it sliding down her slit, soaking the bedding beneath them. The maids would know what had happened there, she knew.

  And she didn’t care.

  “Yer mine.” Donal wrapped himself around her, still stroking his half-hard member in and out of her slick slit, as if he couldn’t stop the primal motion. “I will’na let ye go. I will’na e’er accept another woman in m’life, as m’wife. I can’na.”

  She nodded, closing her eyes, feeling tears slip down her cheeks onto the mattress coverlet. He eased himself slowly off, a moment she lamented, every time, before pulling her close against him again, spooning her. She saw their reflection in the mirror, Donal’s leg over both of hers, thick arms cradling her, making her seem small in them, as if he might be able to hide her, keep her from the world.

  But it was out there, just past the locked door. They couldn’t deny it forever.

  That made her remember Sibyl and Raife and she chuckled
to herself at Donal’s simple solution. Why had they not done it before?

  “Do ye think they’re still locked in yer chancery?” Kirstin asked, knowing he’d understand who she meant.

  “Probably.” Donal grinned, brushing her hair away from her face and kissing her flushed cheek. “Not that they’ll care. I’ll likely have t’send in Aiden and Angus t’drag ’em out in the mornin’.”

  “They’re leavin’ in the morning.” Kirstin’s heart ached at the thought. Her family was going home, back to the den. Her pack would be complete again. Except she wouldn’t be with them. It felt as if she were being split in two.

  “Aye.” His hand played in her hair, taking a strand between his fingers and twirling it idly around her nipple. “Are ye sad yer not goin’ wit’em?”

  “No.” It wasn’t quite true—she was sad, but not regretful, and the latter was what he was really asking about. She didn’t regret her decision to stay, even not knowing what would happen.

  “I’m expectin’ a dispensation from King Henry wit’in a fortnight.” He kissed her shoulder, rubbing his stubble there, making her shiver.

  “Yer also expectin’ yer bride t’arrive wit’in a fortnight,” she reminded him softly. “Will’t be a race t’see which gets ’ere first?”

  “She’s n’bride o’mine,” he growled, brow knitted. “I did’na choose ’er. I chose ye.”

  “She did’na get t’choose either,” she murmured, thinking of Sibyl, who had come to Scotland to find herself betrothed to a cruel tyrant. “Remember, she’s an Englishwoman, comin’ into a strange land, to marry a man she does’na know.”

  “You’ve an awful lotta sympathy fer a woman who wants t’take yer place?”

  Kirstin shrugged. “We do’na know what she wants.”

  “Well I know what I want.” He moved a hand down to cup her mound and she let out a soft sigh of pleasure, turning her face to his and snaking an arm behind his head to pull his mouth to her.

  This man was hers. She didn’t know if it would be forever, or just for now, but however long it lasted, she intended to make the most of every single moment.