SCOTTISH ROMANCE: My Sinful Surrender to a Highlander Werewolf (Scottish Werewolf Pregnancy Romance) (Historical Medieval Shape Shifter Paranormal Science Fiction Short Stories)

by Fiona Knightingale

  He wove his tongue around every fold to find every drop of her wetness. He came to rest on her clit, letting his tongue dance feverishly against the heartbeat that pounded inside. She whimpered and pulled his face into her body. Tony grasped the tiny nub between his lips and let his tongue flicker across the surface hard and fast. Her flat stomach trembled as she reached closer and closer, and as her back arched, he drove two fingers inside her wet velvet walls.

  She cried out as his fingers stretched her more than any cock she had ever had. And she came hard against the invading fingers and the tormenting tongue. He twisted his fingers around, pressing against that soft spot deep inside her body, letting her body seize hold and pull him in further. As her shudders slowed to a stop, she stared up at the ceiling gasping.

  The knock on the door startled both of them, and they scrambled for their respective shorts.

  “One minute!” Tony hollered.

  Both breathless, Tony answered the door with Annie right behind him. They prayed that their red faces and gasping breaths could be attributed to working out. The young woman from the front eyed them both suspiciously but only informed them that the gym was closing. Tony dismissed her and closed the door again.

  “I gotta run anyway,” Annie said.

  Tony grabbed her hand and rubbed it against his own crotch, his cock hard again and wanting more.

  “Damn, you ready again?” Annie asked, incredulous. Ken never lasted more than a few minutes, he hardly ever pleasured her exclusively, and he certainly was never ready for a second round within a few minutes.

  “You have the time?” Tony grinned.

  “I actually don’t, but how about tomorrow?”

  He groaned loudly and nodded. “Sure. Same bat time, same bat channel.”

  She darted out the door before she could double-guess herself. It was too much too fast and she needed to think. But when she got home, all she could think about was how she made the wrong decision. She drove her own fingers inside her body over and over, until they sent her over the edge one more time.

  The next day at work was absolute torture. Her brain had given up on her completely, and was just killing time before the training session that evening. She knew exactly what was going to happen that night and she wished she could just show up now and get it going.

  After a painful nine hours, she changed into the tank top and running shorts, completely omitting her bra and panties. At this stage, it was just going to slow them down.

  He led her silently into the workout room, and stood next to her in the doorway as she dropped her purse in the corner. She reached around his body to close and lock the door before squeezing his stiff cock through his shorts.

  The entire time she had been training with Tony, she had always known he was holding back. After all, he was not looking to injure her. But she was about to find out the true and full nature of the strength and stamina of an MMA fighter.

  A long pause filled the room, before they mutually started ripping their clothes off. He wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up, bruising her lips with his own. He drove his tongue deep in her mouth as he pulled them across the room. His hands moved to her ass as she opened her thighs to wrap around him.

  He slammed her up against the wall and held her there with the weight of his large frame. One hand wove between their bodies to pinch and roll her stiff nipples until she whimpered. With surprisingly little effort, he guided her lithe body until the tip of his cock rested against her wet pussy lips. And with no pretense or warning, he drove himself up into her as he pulled her down on top of himself.

  “Fuck…” she hissed, feeling every inch of him fill and stretch her.

  He lifted her back up and pulled her back down again, feeling and hearing the slap of their bare sweaty skin. She felt her pussy stretch to accommodate his size, wondering if she could really take all of him. His arms bulged as he supported her body. She wrapped her arms around his neck and marveled at his hard chest and rippling stomach. She could feel the rough surface of the cinderblocks scratching at her delicate skin. Over and over, he plunged his cock into her until they could hardly hold the position because of the sweat that poured from their bodies. Her stiff nipples tingled as they brushed up and down against his chest and he watched as they heaved with every thrust.

  She felt her entire body humming and burning as the need grew into urgency and gasped loudly when suddenly he withdrew his cock from her completely. She feared he had changed his mind.

  “No, god, don’t stop…” she pleaded.

  He dropped her down to her feet roughly, turned her around, and pulled at her hips until she was bent over. She slapped her palms against the wall for balance. She waved her ass at him, silently begging him to return to her body.

  He dug his fingers into her hips, and slammed back into her pussy. Over and over, he filled her and withdrew. Her body tingled as each thrust drove her closer and she panted hard at the onslaught. He leaned back so that he could watch her smooth firm ass jiggle as his hips bounced off of her.

  “Fuck. Me. Fuck. Me.” She could only gasp out individual words between the hard poundings.

  The sparks were building towards the fire and she needed it now. She cautiously released the wall with one hand and started rubbing her clit furiously, driving herself over the edge. She squealed as her pussy convulsed around his cock. Tony grunted low in his chest and pulled her against him as he released his need against the walls of her twitching pussy. She collapsed forward off of his cock and rested her forehead against her hand on the wall while he rested his on her lower back.

  “Well… coach…” she panted. “Do I pass the class?”

  He laughed, “Fucking A you do.”

  “But I still don’t know MMA.”

  He stroked his hands down her smooth glistening thighs. “Good thing we didn’t do the wrestling in actual Greek style.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, they start naked.”

  “We would not have made it this long,” she laughed.

  “So can I see you outside of class then?” Tony asked, still dragging for breath.

  “It’s complicated,” Annie confessed.

  “Ah.” Tony was more disappointed than he expected.

  They gathered their clothes and headed for the door.

  “So only in class?” Tony was confused.

  “We’ll have to see.”

  As Annie headed to her car, she realized that while she did not know MMA any better than when she had signed up for the class, she had indeed learned a lesson from her trainer. Once she watched Tony get into his truck and drive off, she scribbled a note, sealed the envelope, and slipped it through the mail slot on the door of the gym.

  THE END

  Knocked Up by the Fighter

  Kerrigan always believed that offense was the key to winning. The best defense is a great offense and that’s what his first tutor Gabriel said, although his second teacher Othlo saw things differently. The man was gruff, uncompromising and stubborn in his ways. He always talked about defense, stressing that a good fighter had to use his opponents anger against him. It was all well and good, the kind of thing they said in Hollywood flicks all the time.

  But as Kerrigan grew from a scrawny nineteen year old boy into his late twenties he began to change his viewpoint. Just as his body and muscles grew, so ripped that he even surpassed Othlo, his mind expanded just the same. He came to live his martial arts philosophy, not teach it. He knew that the best defense was a great offense. He studied the best moves of Bruce Lee—the sidekick, the one inch punch, and the straight blast—knowing that if he forced his opponent to go on the defense, his offense would win the fight.

  Kerrigan came from a background of Muay Thai and only enhanced his training by learning from Othlo’s brilliance in BJJ and MMA approaches.

  But to Othlo, Kerrigan would always be the hot-headed student.

  “You fight with your emotion. Not your mind.”

  “I fi
ght with my body, sensei,” he said, chuckling to himself. The days of contending against Othlo were nearly over. There was nothing left to prove. On any given day Kerrigan could take down Othlo and Othlo could take him down the next day. It was an even fight and mostly variables would determine who won.

  But Othlo’s friendship was enough to inspire Kerrigan to reach out to Othlo and ask to go half and half in a new gym venture called the Genesis OK Club—of course, standing for Othlo and Kerrigan because the old man always got to go first.

  Kerrigan’s mind was already far removed from the training and his enthusiasm had waned a long time ago.

  He even remembered fast-forwarding a few conversations with Othlo and his “pet student”, that stubborn girl Viola who was probably just sporting a lady boner for her teacher.

  “Hey. Be careful,” Othlo said in challenge.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because, grasshopper. Some friends insist on recreating the past. But you can’t live in the past.”

  “Thanks Yoda.”

  “I’m serious. You remember what I said. What do I always say, Daniel-San?”

  “I’m not a teenager anymore, sensei. What do I always tell you, Master Othlo? Sometimes you have to take the offensive. Sometimes it’s the only way to win.”

  “Usually not,” Othlo said sourly.

  “All right. Look, you two have a good week. I’ll see next time.”

  Othlo and his student ignored him, going back to their weirdo one-on-one session that seemed more like Othlo getting his rocks off than it did educational. But whatever. That was Othlo’s problem.

  Kerrigan was excited to revisit the past. His best friend from high school, Nicholas Buchanan had recently contacted him on social media and told him to come up to their home in Florida. Kerrigan felt emotionally vacant for a long time…until he read Nicholas’ sharp wit and saw his puppy dog face that he remembered so vividly from high school.

  He even called him the day before his flight just to make sure he was the same old Nick, since Othlo was already dogging his attempts at renewing a friendship.

  “Kerrigan, you asshole,” the jovial voice laughed. “Are you finally coming to see us? You dickless piece of shit. How long has it been since your gay ass has had the balls to see me in person?”

  Yep, that was Nicholas. Always offensive, always aggressive and alpha-male-ing his way to the center of attention. But Kerrigan knew where it was coming from. He was always confident and outgoing and then all those years spent overseas in Iraq probably fucked up his sense of etiquette and civility. But it was a positive the man still held down a job and still had a friendly disposition.

  “Nicholas, how have you been?”

  “Oh the usual, just balling chicks and beating the shit out of homeless people. You?”

  “Hahah,” he said, forcing himself to laugh. Military men…the strangest the sense of humors. “I’ve been good.”

  “You still into that Karate stuff? I remember you suiting up and karate chomping when we all went to camp.”

  “I did,” Kerrigan said with a deep chuckle. “Black Belt in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu and Black Belt in MMA, third degree.”

  “Nice. You piece of shit. Finally glad to see you manned up.”

  “I do what I can. But you’re the one who served your country, man. You were the first of us to go out and face your fears. We all learned from you.”

  “Huhh,” Nicholas said, as usual too macho to accept a genuine compliment. “Well I had no choice. It was either that or get a job. And that’s too brutal for me.”

  Nicholas also had married himself a lovely woman, a black woman, named Georgina. He always had a thing for black women, even as far back as his prom night and Kerrigan found his married profile picture--hands in hands with his happily married wife—perfectly charming and a little hilarious.

  The very idea of Nicholas winning in life and finding a great girl to settle down with, rather than letting the darkness consume him, was inspiring. Maybe if Nick could find happiness anyone could. And hey, maybe Othlo was just full of crap.

  Kerrigan smiled to himself and admired the thought. This was going to be a great weekend away from home.

  II

  Nicholas let Kerrigan inside his modest home and the two embraced with a firm shake, just bordering on a huge if only their dueling egos would let them.

  “Glad you made it. Did you find the place okay?”

  “Damn, Nick,” Kerrigan said. “That was one time in college. I got lost looking for his house. He never let me live it down.”

  Nicholas laughed. “This motherfucker drove around for two hours looking for something that should have taken him twenty minutes!”

  Nicholas pointed at Kerrigan and laughed hard, egging on a mysterious woman who sat silently in the background smiling.

  “And who is this lovely lady?”

  “This is Georgina, my wife.”

  “Hello Kerrigan,” she said kindly and in a congenial, controlled voice. “Nicholas has told me so much about you.”

  “Ohh, he wasn’t too honest was he?” he said with a grin.

  “I told her that you were a donkey raping bastard. Was that too honest?”

  “Oh you are so nasty, Nick!” Georgina snapped, but turned back to Kerrigan with a smile. “Just ignore him.”

  “I always do.”

  “Yeah he does,” Nicholas said. “He ignored me for twenty fucking years! What a sensitive prick.”

  Kerrigan laughed it off, as did Nicholas who was just drinking and spouting shit.

  “No but to be serious,” Georgina said, “Nicholas thinks the world of you, Kerrigan.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. He went on and on all night about how he saw you in the local newspaper with your two black belts. He was so proud of his friend.”

  “She’s lying,” Nicholas said, a little embarrassed but smirking it off. “I basically just said you were an asshole and that I always used to beat you up as teenagers.”

  “That’s not true,” Georgina said casually. “He said some really nice things.”

  “That’s sweet of ya, Nicholas,” Kerrigan said, staring down his friend and giving him a manly nod. “And hey, the shoe is on the other foot now. Because growing up, all of us kids worshiped Nicholas Buchanan. The only guy with balls enough to join the army. We were all too scared shitless or too busy whacking off to take our lives seriously. Nick showed us how to be a man.”

  Nick tossed off the compliment and shrugged. “Then why’d you turn into such a queer?”

  “No,” Georgina said. “You just be a man and accept a compliment. Kerrigan is obviously so much more at ease with his masculinity than you are, honey.” She winked at Kerrigan.

  Kerrigan chuckled. “It’s been a long time, Nick. Now let’s go eat tacos and drink like we’re kids again.”

  “You got it, Karate Kid.”

  The night was long all right and the tacos and tapas were delicious, only made better by the taste of mojitos washing it all down. Whenever Kerrigan and Nicholas got together they drank and laughed their asses off, and maybe they were both relieved that after all these years they never grew up—or at least they didn’t grow old enough to lose their sense of humor.

  Kerrigan was pretty hammered and so was Georgina by hour three. Nicholas was flying high, still tickled pink by exchanging old stories with Kerrigan.

  He jumped up from the table and wandered off. “Got to wring my lizard.”

  “Nicholas!” Georgina yelled. “Tact, honey!”

  Kerrigan laughed and shook his head. “He never changed much, did he?”

  “No, he certainly didn’t,” Georgina said, quickly losing her smile now that Nicholas had left.

  “I’m glad to see him happy. And you. You make a great couple.”

  “Hmmm,” Georgina said with a polite smile and a slow blink.

  Kerrigan sensed something and was almost afraid to ask. “You are happy, right?”

  “Aaah,
yeah sure. Okay.”

  “Safe answer, huh.”

  “Yes, a safe answer,” she smiled half-heartedly then looked away.

  Kerrigan shifted in his seat and bit his lip, not quite sure what to say. “Well, I mean as long as I’ve known my boy, I know he’s had a wandering eye. I always figured he would meet someone…you know…who was like him.”

  “Like him?”

  “As horny as he was,” Kerrigan laughed.

  “That’s not really the problem,” she said cautiously.

  “Oh. Well, it’s none of my business…but…”

  But. That was probably one more word than Kerrigan should have spoken that night.

  “But he’s fucked up,” Georgina said in a fit. “He’s okay during the week. When he works. When he abstains and when he gets pussy every night. But on the weekends he drinks. And he gets…” She shook her head and pouted, folding her arms and too upset to even continue talking.

  “He goes into the dark place? Yeah, I know.”

  “Hmm,” she said despondently, as if her eyes were saying, “You have no idea.”

  Nicholas came back to the table within a few minutes, cracking jokes and name-calling as always. Kerrigan smiled wide, still proud and supportive of his buddy—even while remembering Georgina’s words in private, still lingering in his mind.

  “Another round,” Nicholas said. “Another round for these two shitheads.”

  “The great respect he has for me,” Georgia said tiredly.

  “He’s just kidding,” Kerrigan said, laughing a bit uncomfortably.

  “Who says I’m joking?” Nicholas said, downing another drink. “You’re both shitheads. You are.”

  “Come on, bro,” Kerrigan said, slapping him on the shoulder and taking another drink himself. “You’re married to a beautiful woman. You ought to be kissing her feet.”