by Vanessa Vale
I didn't, but I nodded anyway because a wife definitely wouldn't be able to miss a husband's black eye.
"It was the last time I heard him talk like that."
My mouth fell open. Ian must have punched him in the face for the crude remark. "You… you did that for me?"
Ian's eyes narrowed to slits and spoke through a clenched jaw. "The man was a liar. I know you are a hot one. The spanking just confirmed it. Just lookin' at ye for these past weeks, not being able to kiss ye or tup ye as I wanted, waiting to be wed was almost more than I could bear." He shifted in his seat and I was able to see his cock tenting his plaid. Oh God, it was big! I licked my lips at his aggressiveness, his sureness about my passion. "That's why I gave you the rod, so I'd know you were touching yourself, playing with your pussy because of my command. Now, wife, I look forward to… learning all of yer interests—besides getting your arse spanked to a fiery shade of red."
"My… interests?" I asked, my voice soft. My bottom was sore and it tingled something fierce. So did my pussy.
Ian's eyes strayed from mine and moved lower, roving over my body, paying particular attention to my breasts.
"What makes your pussy hot, makes ye cry out my name?" He stroked his knuckles down over my cheek, and I tilted my head into the caress.
I couldn't miss the glint of desire the way he stared at me. He made me feel sexy, feminine, all powerful, as if I were controlling him. I doubted that would ever be possible. He grabbed his cock through the wool of his plaid and stroked, letting me know he was more than ready.
"Oh shit," I whispered. My pussy was hot just from the sound of his voice. I was close to coming just watching him be so blatantly sexual, so virile. Through the leaded windows, albeit small ones, I could see it was daylight. I could see everything he was doing, and that meant he could see all of me. There wasn't going to be any fumbling beneath the covers. While I had to guess based on my style of dress alone that electricity was at least a hundred years in the future, I knew that Ian wasn't the kind of man that fucked with the lights out.
Any fear or debate I had was gone. His words, the way he'd supposedly protected me from my previous husband showed he would not harm me. I knew it deep down. From what he'd said, we'd been engaged, betrothed, or whatever it was called in history, for weeks. Ian had held off in even kissing me before we were married. It truly had been our first kiss! Instead of taking what he could easily have had, he gave me a dildo to play with. It was very naughty and ridiculously honorable. Perhaps it was good that I hadn't arrived any sooner, for I wouldn't have had the same willpower. I would have tossed up my skirts and let him have his way. If he was as desperate now as I was, it was going to be like spontaneous combustion when we came together.
This was the chance for a night of incredible sex with my eternal mate. Supposedly, I'd meet him again in the future, but he was here before me, cock in hand right now—whenever now really was—ready for me. Or, I could do the stupidest thing ever and pull the ring from my finger and have a humdrum birthday by myself. I wanted completion, sexual satisfaction. The headboard banging, screaming kind of big O I'd only dreamt about.
With Ian. My Highlander hottie.
Now.
CHAPTER FIVE
Lexy
The ache in my breasts, the lightning bolts of sexual electricity pulsed throughout my body directly to my pussy. Taking hold of his hand, I lifted my gaze to his. His warmth, his touch was like magic. Fire. Desire. I wasn't the only one to feel it; Ian's eyes flared at the contact. He yanked me down roughly onto his muscular thighs, and I hissed at the hard feel of his thighs against my sore bottom. His rock hard cock was unmistakable through the fabric of my skirts. To balance myself, I placed my hand against his chest. What I felt beneath was rock hard and hot.
"Now that the punishment is over, dinna let me stop you from touching your tits."
My mouth fell open. I wasn't used to a man who was so… blatant, but it was our wedding night. He might be a stranger to me, but I was not one to him. He'd had weeks. Years, even.
He looked me in the eye briefly, but dropped his gaze lower. To my tits. They were very pale in contrast to my dark dress with a long line of cleavage running down the middle. I couldn't help but smile. It thrilled me to know he was so enthralled by my charms.
"No," I told him.
Ian lifted his gaze from my breasts, confused. He stiffened his spine, probably wondering if indeed I was frigid after all. "Nay?"
I shook my head as I bit my lip, worried it between my teeth. "I want you to touch me."
As I ran a finger down his cheek, his whiskers prickly, yet soft beneath the tip, his pupils dilated, his chocolaty eyes almost black. His jaw clenched.
"Everywhere," I added breathlessly, dreamily thinking about his hands on my body.
His smile returned, even broader than before, and I felt his breath quicken. His heart beat, solid and real, beneath my palm. Ian's large hands quickly covered my breasts, sizing them, weighing them in his palms, as if he'd been dying to do so for a long time. The first touch was rough, his fingers brushed over my heated skin above the cut of my dress before yanking the fabric down. My nipples sprang free.
"Holy mother of God," Ian whispered, his voice deep, like a tumble of rocks. "I've dreamt about what your nipples would look like. What color they'd be. I didn't know twould be like this."
"Like what?" I gasped, my eyes falling shut at the rough feel of his calloused palms against my sensitive skin.
Instead of saying more, he tilted my upper body over his arm and feasted. He suckled at one turgid tip, pulling it into the wet heat of his mouth. His hand circled the globe and kneaded it.
"Ian!" I cried. It was aggressive and desperate and hot and God, everything I wanted.
My head fell back, lost in the swirling sensations caused by the rough rasp of his tongue. Round and round it went, laving, licking, nipping with his teeth. I heard a moan and realized it was my own. Between my legs, my pussy wept, my thighs slick. Ian continued to suckle at one breast until the peak was so tight I thought it might shatter. My other breast, lonely as it was without Ian's attentions, ached. Just thinking about his mouth moving to the other straining nipple made me cry out. "Please!"
He glanced up at me. "This one need some attention, too?"
I nodded, frantic.
He kissed his way across the deep valley between my breasts to climb to the other peak. His day's growth of beard rasped my sensitive skin, leaving a tingling, burning sensation in his wake. With the crackling fire at my back and Ian's mouth on me, it was possible I might burst into flames.
After what felt like hours of being licked, sucked, tortured, Ian's head moved up to place wet kisses on my collarbone, nipped at the sensitive tendon at my neck, my jaw. Finally, oh, finally, his lips descended on mine. Dizzy with desire, I opened my mouth to Ian's onslaught. His invasion. His tongue darted in and out to mate with mine, his head angling to kiss me even deeper. His tongue fucked my mouth in a way I hoped his cock would my pussy.
In. Out. Swirling. Plunging deep.
I could die happy at this moment. No one had kissed me like this before. Ever. This wasn't something I would forget. Maybe the ability to kiss faded through the generations just as chivalry had. Ian took the blue ribbon in the make-out contest. I couldn't do anything but kiss him back, run my fingers through his tousled hair and hang on for dear life. The feel of the silky strands between my fingers was… spectacular. The act simple, yet intimate. Yet, it wasn't enough.
Raggedly, Ian drew in a deep breath and lifted his head. His piercing eyes met mine beneath half closed lids. From the feel of his erection beneath me and his thumbs brushing over my nipples in a mindless sort of way, I knew Ian was as ready as I was for more.
I'd wanted foreplay only a few minutes earlier, but now, screw foreplay. It was way overrated. I wanted it all. Everything. Ian clearly did too because before I could let out a squeal of surprise, I was lifted off of his lap, tossed over his very braw
ny shoulder and carried across the room. It was such a caveman move, yet I loved it. He lowered me gently onto a heavy wood dining table I'd made no notice of before. Did he plan on making a feast of me? I squirmed on the hard surface at the idea. One large hand pushed me back onto my elbows, Ian's hard thighs nudged mine apart. Wide. I could only look up at the man dominating me, controlling me in so many ways. Ian was going to use me as he saw fit, and I could do nothing about it.
Thank fucking God.
Physically, he had at least eighty pounds on me, maybe more. Sexually, his prowess left me panting, my skin damp with a sheen of sweat, my pussy pulsing and desperate for his cock and the orgasm I knew he would give me.
I wasn't going anywhere. Except over the abyss, and I planned on taking him with me.
Slowly, Ian's rough palms ran up my legs, starting at my ankles. He took off my shoes, one then the other, all the time his dark eyes never leaving my face. Maybe just a little bit to look at my breasts, which, in their current position, pointed straight up at the ceiling, nipples like tight pink beacons.
His large hands brushed up and over my calves, my dress bunching up on Ian's wrists. As he reached my knees, he worked his way back down, then up again. One eyebrow lifted in question. "Your legs, there isn't any hair." He looked puzzled, surprised by something he considered very strange.
My skin tingled where he touched, the rough rasp of callouses awakening every single nerve ending.
"I shaved them," I told him, my breath still coming out in pants. Even with his hands benignly on my knees, the touch was erotic. Anticipation overwhelmed me as I wondered, hoped, where his hands might go next.
"Shaved?" His head lowered to kiss the smooth skin on one calf, caress it. Understand it. "I smell your desire. Yer quim must be drippin' wet."
My eyes practically rolled back in my head. God, I loved Scottish dirty talk. Of course I was dripping wet and he knew it.
Ian lifted his head to look me in the eye, a lock of hair falling over his forehead. "Do ye have other places ye like to shave?" he wondered, one tip of his mouth quirked up.
I smiled demurely. Slyly. I wasn't going to tell him I'd been waxed only the other day. In my lifetime. He'd never understand. I looked forward to him learning about it all by himself. "Why don't you find out?"
The fireplace and candles about the room cast an orange-hued glow over Ian, dark, brooding and mysterious. Sexy. Ian threw his head back and laughed, his hands still hot on my legs. "Ach, aye. It would be a pleasure."
The 'r' in pleasure rolled off his tongue like a purring cat. I could get used to the accent. He could read a grocery list and make it hot.
Ian was a man of action, not words. Past-life-Lexy had decades to find out if he was a rocket scientist—or Scottish laird—but the twenty-first century Lexy had just one night. Who needed lots of talk when all I wanted was action?
Action I got because his hands advanced quickly over my knees and up my thighs, bunching the yards of fabric of my dress about my waist. Grabbing my ankles, he placed my feet upon the table, spreading my legs wide, exposing my pussy to his gaze. I could feel the cool air on my thighs, the wetness between, my underwear, or drawers, whatever it was called in the olden days were on the floor.
"I didn't know it was possible," Ian murmured quietly, mesmerized by the sight of my pussy, smooth and waxed. I kept a small, lush triangle above my clit, which hopefully was a directional guide for Ian, leading him exactly where I wanted him to go. One blunt finger gently stroked over my smooth mound, around my slit as if mesmerized.
I arched my back, crying out at the searing heat of his intimate touch. "Like what you see?" I asked breathlessly, daringly bold.
"Ach, your quim's so pink and wet and when I stroke it, you purr like a kitten." Using his fingers, he stroked gently up and down my slit, then after parting my slick folds, slid two fingers deep inside. "You'll come all over my fingers, then around my cock."
CHAPTER SIX
Ian
It wasna a scream that came from Alexandra's parted lips, but it was close. A good thing too because I had not jested when I said the sounds she made when I touched her body belonged to me and me alone. I could easily quiet her by putting my cock in her mouth, but I wanted it in her pussy first.
After a wedding, the bride was to be tupped, her maidenhead torn and the bloody sheets waved to the awaiting clan. Everyone knew Alexandra had been wed to Duncan and nay a virgin, but the custom was to be met, solely because I was laird. I wouldna wave a bloody sheet around, but I'd tup her. I had no objection to that. I would not let anyone share in it though. The only accommodation I would make was to wrap my bride in my plaid when done. I didna mind my naked arse exposed to the entire clan, or even all of Scotland. Alexandra, however, was bloody mine.
"Shh, lass," I warned. My balls ached with need and every little whimper, every cry of surprise, pleasure, desire made me desperate to come.
Dipping two fingers inside her scalding heat, she clenched around me. She was tight, so bloody tight my cock throbbed. Fluid seeped from the tip and down my pulsing length. I'd been longing for this moment, to see her body, to feel how hot she was for me, to see her arousal coating my fingers and her thighs.
I pulled completely free, slid over her smooth, bare skin. Twas a surprise, her bare flesh, her beautiful pink quim. I could see every little bit of her. Nothing hid her perfection. I'd never seen a woman's mound almost free of hair. This woman, my wife, was a surprise, and twas only our wedding night. I'd waited so long for this. For her.
Duncan had his way with her and forced her hand into a miserable marriage. Twas easy for me to see Duncan had done nothing with Alexandra's quim besides take her virginity. No bairns, no pleasure, no passion. It would be my job to do that. I happily teased her, circling, twirling my fingers before dipping into her just a fraction, then back out to caress over her swollen clit, returning to thrust deeply once more.
Her eyelids fell and she watched me with a passion-filled gaze.
When I played with her quim once again, she cried out, then realized she was verra loud and put her hand over her mouth. Her hips bucked off the table, shifting them in time with the motions of my fingers. She threw her head back with abandon, her long golden hair loosening from the pins that held it, spilling out about her on the wood surface. I couldn't help but smile. My wife was wanton and passionate, just as I'd imagined. She wasna frigid. She just needed the right man to get her hot. Me.
Duncan had been an old man at his death, older than Alexandra's own father. Aye, I shouldn't have struck Duncan at his advanced age, but it had been in anger and had vented my frustration, as well as seen to Alexandra's safety until the bloody man's death. Theirs had not been a marriage of love, but an alliance of land. Arranged by two men for their happiness, Alexandra was bartered as if she were a head of cattle. No wonder she was so wild at the slightest touch of my fingers. She hadn't even had my mouth on her, my cock deep inside her yet. Her dead husband sought not her needs. It was my bloody job now to tend to them. Care for them. Nurture them. With pleasure. I'd waited years for her to be mine. And now, looking at her beautiful body, wet, open and ready for me, it had been worth the wait.
Lifting my fingers to my mouth, I couldn't wait any longer to taste her. Alexandra watched me lick off her sweet taste. "Like honey."
I knew that this cream was just for me. The way she arched her back and moaned was just for me. She was as desperate as me to tup, but I wouldna rush. My cock may not agree, but we had all night. Hell, we had the rest of our lives, but I wanted this right now. I needed to see what made her burn so hot, what made her cry out my name with lovely little gasps.
I held up the rod. "Use this, lass. Show me how you pleasured yourself."
Her eyes fluttered open and stared at the ivory shaft. I'd given it to her—along with a jar of slick oil—after she'd agreed to be mine. I'd told her it was to stretch her arse, to train that virgin opening for my cock. I wanted to get in there and claim that hole
on our wedding night and I needed her well practiced, well relaxed and eager for it. She hadna been repulsed by the idea. In fact, I'd seen lust cloud her vision and she'd hidden the items in the pockets of her skirts.
Since that day, when we had a moment alone, I'd asked her as to her progress and she'd promised me she'd be ready. I'd left her then and there to return to my bedchamber and take my cock in hand. I'd come so hard. I didna know if I'd last once I was deep inside that lovely arse.
And it was lovely. I'd loved how it had quivered when I'd spanked her, the way my palm appeared in the perfect pink color. Glynnis was a right shrew, trying to hurt my Alexandra on her wedding day. But I'd needed my wife to know that everything about her body belonged to me and me alone. The punishment hadna been stern, but she knew now I was serious.
Holding up the ivory shaft for her to take and demonstrate the readiness of her arsehole, she knew once again how serious I was.
She took it in her small hand and licked her lips. Did she know what such a simple gesture did to me? Of course, she did. The witch.
Putting my hands on her knees, I pushed them wide, spreading her legs. I watched as she put the rod to her bare quim, slid it through her glistening folds, then slid it deep inside her quim. Just watching the white object disappear into her body, swallowed by her pink flesh, had me groaning. For a time, I watched her tup herself, the sound of it was loud in the room; she was so bloody wet.
Reaching beneath my kilt, I gripped the base of my cock hard, staving off my need to rut into her. I began to stroke myself as she continued to play. Her eyes fell closed, her back arched off the table. With her breasts above the tight corset, the plump nipples thrust straight toward the ceiling.
"Now, lass, use it in your arse. Show me how you've been preparing me to take that virginity."