King's Pawn [Highland Menage 7] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Reece Butler

  “What are ye to do?” she demanded, though it sounded more like a whimper to her ears.

  “Do?”

  Rory flicked his tongue. He touched her, right where she needed. A fire lit on the spot. She gasped, needing to watch. His eyes sparkled up at her. He looked like he had a russet moustache from her pussy curls. He rubbed his hand under his chin. It caused the oddest sensation, as if an empty spot needed to be filled.

  “I’ll do with ye whate’er I wish,” he said.

  His tongue separated her lips, cleaving her in two. She lifted herself, pressing her pussy against his face. Mortified at what he was doing yet wanting more, she closed her eyes. The sensations were so intense nothing else mattered. Tearlach chuckled, playing with her nipples.

  She’d never felt more alive. Nothing existed but this. Tearlach’s harsh breathing filled her ears. His scent wrapped around her. She gasped and squirmed as Rory’s tongue found its way all over her mound. A finger pressed into her. Her maidenhead stopped it. He scratched at it with his finger like Tommy demanding the door be opened.

  Rory didn’t demand. He seduced. His touch destroyed what she’d thought was her prim, proper self. He released her with a final flick of his tongue. She glared down, grabbing his hair with both hands before shoving his chin back to her eager pussy.

  He’d started something, a tension she’d not felt before. She was inexperienced but knew something was going to happen. She was not going to miss it!

  Rory found just the right spot. She hovered, not breathing in case it changed whatever was happening. He nibbled her once more, then nipped. Tension snapped and her world erupted.

  * * * *

  “Open yer eyes, lass. I ken ye are back with the livin’.”

  Tearlach had lifted Isabel into his arms after Rory had licked her clean. She’d passed out on them from her explosive orgasm. Rory had such a cat-ate-the-cream look that he wanted to rearrange his nose with his fist. Instead he’d show his woman that riding his cock could feel even better than his twin’s tongue.

  She stirred, but kept her eyes closed. His wee bundle of woman was so small he could easily carry her up those dozens of stairs to her garret and not be winded. Holding her was another matter. His breath caught just by looking at her. Touching her made his heart pound and his cock so hard it felt like rock.

  Isabel, on the other hand, was soft. Her skin was smooth, nearly hairless except for her bush and her head. There was some fine hair on her forearms but nothing like his own. Perhaps that’s one reason why women were so fascinating. They were so different. He couldn’t describe her scent except to say it was enticing. Rory had certainly enjoyed her taste. He would get a chance soon enough. He couldn’t object to Rory tasting her when he’d be the one she’d ride first.

  His brother had stripped and laid his plaid on top of the blanket supplied by Janet. The plaid, made from MacDougal sheep, spun and woven by women of the clan long ago, was as close as they could get to joining with her on MacDougal land. One day he hoped to lie with her in Duncladach but for now they had these woods and their plaids.

  He handed Isabel over to Rory for a moment. His brother’s naked cock stood erect. Tearlach quickly stripped, groaning in relief when his own was freed. The rough wool was not kind to the head of a raised cock. He sat on Rory’s plaid and laid his weapons to his right. The herald said Calltuin was safe, but he was alive now because of precautions. He was a warrior, and that would never change.

  He lay back and reached for her. Isabel was still woozy, smiling to herself with eyes closed, when Rory held her over Tearlach’s belly.

  “Put yer knees either side of his hips,” he said. When she didn’t react he pretended to drop her. She opened her eyes, grabbing for his shoulders. Her eyes widened even more when she spotted Tearlach’s mast.

  “That thing’s almost as big as a stallion!”

  He grasped his cock and gave it an easy tug. “Aye, but ye’ll be doing the riding this time. Rory will show ye what a two-legged stallion can do a wee bit later.” He lifted his hands to her waist to guide her down. “Sit on my belly.”

  She did, making sure she was well forward of his cock. She shifted, turning to look behind her. “Tearlach, ye are both big men…”

  “Aye, Isabel,” he said with more confidence than he felt. “My cock will fit in yer wee puss. It may pinch for a bit, but then ’twill be all pleasure. My brothers married lasses yer size, and they fit, so ye’ll be fine.”

  He ran his hands up and down her ribs, avoiding the parts he most wished to touch. He was gentling her, helping her relax as he would a new horse before he rode it. Only Isabel would be riding him.

  “Ye look so good sittin’ there,” he said.

  She bit her lips. “I do?”

  “Yer face is pleasing, and these…” He weighed her breasts with his palms. “These are wondrous.” He played with her hard nipples, catching them between his fingers. He trailed the back of his hands down her soft belly. “Do my rough hands bother ye?”

  Her blush spread. “They feel good,” she said. “So different from my own. Not that I ever touched myself before, but…”

  “Ye havena touched yerself?” asked Rory.

  She shook her head. “I share a pallet with Janet and Jenny. When my head hits the sheet I barely move until ’tis time to get up again. I never stop working while the sun’s up.”

  “Things are a wee bit different today,” said Tearlach.

  “Aye,” added Rory. “A sennight ago we thought we’d ne’er step foot off MacDougal land. And now we’ve been sent to Stirling Castle to meet King James. Even better, the herald asked us to escort a wee lass with us.”

  “And best,” interrupted Tearlach, “is that the wee lass is yerself.” He filled his palms with her breasts again. She arched her back, wishing more, so he pressed her nipples. “Ye are a dream come true.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Isabel sat on Tearlach’s hard belly. His hot cock rubbed between the cheeks of her arse when she moved. Rory had used his mouth and fingers to prove she could find joy in life. Tearlach said there could be even more, once she rode him and gave him her maidenhead. Would it tear or would she stretch around his cock?

  She hoped it stretched, for this was the moment. Once she sat on his pole she would no longer be a virgin. She would be damaged goods. She hoped that meant Roderick would not want her. No, he didn’t want her, he wanted her land. He would take her anyway, and punish her for giving herself to Tearlach and Rory. So she might as well enjoy every second.

  “Instead of ye thinking of slug slime again, look at me,” ordered Tearlach.

  She did, letting herself fall into his blue depths.

  “Move back so ye can see my cock. ’Twill be less frightening.”

  “Ye dinna frighten me,” she declared. She rose and shuffled back. She sat again, putting her arse on his upper thighs. His cock twitched in front of her as if it was a separate part of him.

  “Touch me.”

  She wrapped her hand around him. Hot, and hard and soft all at once. Her fingers were not long enough to touch while wrapped around him. She frowned.

  “Are ye sure ’twill fit?”

  “Aye.” He nodded seriously. “Ye are relaxed from peaking, and wet. We’ll warm ye up again and ease ye into it. Ye may be sore, but ye’ll still feel good after.”

  “How do ye ken that? Have ye been with a virgin afore?”

  “Nay, but our younger brothers told us a few things. Fiona and Alana were virgins, and Kiera was a widow.”

  “Men talk about this?”

  Rory’s chuckle was becoming familiar. It came from behind her this time.

  “Ye have no sisters?”

  “Nay, I was the only bairn.”

  “We grew up with fourteen brothers and no women. We talked of everything when ’twas cold, and we shivered together to get warm during the long winter nights. So when Angus and Gillis came home to Duncladach with Fiona we asked them for answers to all the que
stions we’d had for years.”

  Since she talked with Janet about men often when wee Jenny wasn’t near, it made sense men would be as curious about women.

  “Lean forward, Isabel,” said Tearlach. “Hold my cock and put it where ’twill do ye the most good.”

  Rory helped her move, letting her lower herself on Tearlach. There was a sting as his cock breached her, but it was gone quickly. She moved slowly, rising and falling a bit more each time, enjoying his thickness slide in and out. When she’d taken most of him she opened her eyes and saw his look of pain. She stopped. From his expression he was in agony.

  “Does it hurt ye to do this?”

  “’Tis the holding back that hurts,” he admitted, grimacing.

  “Holding back?”

  “Aye.” He panted through his clenched teeth. “I want ye to bounce on my cock until we come. But I dinna think ye’re ready for that.”

  It was a challenge. Or at least, she took it as one. The slow slide was nice, but she wanted more. She set her hands on his chest and backed onto him. The position rubbed whatever it was Rory had licked to make her explode. Rocking forward and back, scraping herself against his lower belly, she filled herself with him again and again, moving faster as that same tension rose.

  “This is heaven!” said Tearlach in a low growl.

  His fingers found her nipples, tugging and squeezing them.

  “Yes,” she pleaded. “Harder!”

  Her speed increased, until she was slamming back against him. The hands on her arse startled her, ruining her rhythm. She’d forgotten about Rory. His finger dipped into her pussy juices. He rubbed it over her back hole.

  “Remember, whatever we do, that we all enjoy, is right.”

  A small finger breached her. She’d never realized that part of her was so alive. It felt wonderful! Tearlach slid his fingers under her belly. She sat up more, giving him room, hoping he’d find that same spot as Rory. He did. She groaned, clenching his cock from inside.

  “Come for me, Isabel!”

  He pinched again, Rory pressed his finger deeper, and her pussy went into spasms. Tearlach grabbed her waist. He held her as he forced his hips up. Wet, slapping sounds filled her ears. His scent wafted over her. The whole time her pussy fluttered around his cock.

  He gave a final groan and slumped.

  She was still fluttering and gasping when Rory lifted her off. Tearlach rolled onto his belly on the blanket beside them. Rory set her down on her hands and knees and, before she knew what was happening, filled her pussy with his cock. She groaned, loving the way he slid deep into her.

  He took over, hands on her hips as he yanked her back, slamming his hips forward at the same time. This was different. His cock slid past newly discovered parts. She quivered, unable to stop the spasms that rocked her body. Rory roared something she couldn’t hear over the blood rushing through her ears. He finally slumped over her shoulders. She knelt there, head drooping as she fought to breathe. Her blood sang, and her head and pussy thrummed.

  Rory wrapped an arm under her breasts and fell sideways, taking her with him. They lay on their sides, still attached. She felt…whole. Complete. Wanted. She’d not believed such pleasure could exist. She wanted to do it again, and again.

  “Any time ye wish to seduce one of us, help yerself,” murmured Rory between breaths.

  “Do ye think I need practice?” She was panting as well.

  His shoulders shook her as he chuckled. “’Tis as good an excuse as any.”

  Tearlach knelt in front of her. He brushed the hair away from her face. His was stern. She tensed.

  “I canna offer much but myself and my brother, and a place at our laird’s fire.”

  He hadn’t asked her to marry him, but the suggestion was there. Did he think he wasn’t good enough for her?

  “I dinna need yer laird’s fire, Tearlach. I have Calltuin House.”

  One eye twitched. Did he not like her home? His expression eased, though she sensed he held something back.

  “Would ye have us, Isabel Graham?”

  “If King James doesna torture us and toss us in his midden,” added Rory. He shuddered, an exaggerated move that shook her as well.

  “Why would he do that?”

  “We have despoiled his virgin ward. We dinna ken what he planned for ye, but it mayna have been a pair of MacDougals.”

  “He forgot about me for so long I dinna think he’s planned a thing.” She rested her hand on Tearlach’s arm. “I would have ye, Tearlach and Rory MacDougal, should the king allow it.”

  “Would ye wish to seal that with a wee kiss?” Rory’s cock swelled inside her.

  “Just a wee kiss?” she teased, gripping him back.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tearlach dared not move. Isabel slept in his arms, back and bottom curled against him. She felt so right with his arm around her, his hand cupping her breast, keeping her safe.

  “How long do ye think she’ll sleep?” asked Rory.

  “Awhile. I dinna think she’s felt safe in a long, long time. She sleeps deep.”

  Rory rolled to his feet. “I’ll let the two of ye be. I wish to walk and see the land. Aye, and to catch some supper. I dinna think the ladies ate much meat.” He looked downhill toward the river snaking between the lochs. “Or mayhaps some fish.”

  Tearlach put his head back on his arm. “I’ll stay here with my wee wife.”

  “Wife? Ye think of her that way now?”

  “Aye. I canna see being without her.”

  “Ye mayna have a choice. King James—”

  “I will do as my liege requires. But until then, she will be as my wife.”

  Rory dressed, quickly and efficiently, and was gone with a nod. Tearlach relaxed in the sun. Content, for once, to just be. Nothing stirred but the leaves in a light breeze, birds flitting through them, animals rustling. No enemy was sneaking up to kill him. Nor were there brothers eager to catch him unaware for bragging rights.

  He could fall asleep here and wake up again without injury. It would be pleasant for a few days but would soon grow boring. Calltuin was a fine land but he was a warrior, not a farmer.

  Because of the hills and trees he could not see far. It made him twitchy. He was used to standing on Duncladach’s wall walk with views across the Firth of Lorn to distant hills. He wanted to see waves crashing, seabirds flying, and seals playing on the rocks. He needed to see his enemies approaching so he and his brothers would be ready.

  That sea view came with a cost. Cold, damp winds and winter storms plagued them. Summer storms destroyed their few crops. Salty air seeped into metal and leather, requiring constant care and attention. Soft men died, as did their wives and bairns. MacDougals were warriors. They’d once been lords but that was long ago. They’d survived centuries of persecution and would continue, but only if they remained strong. He’d get lazy here. If an enemy approached they’d be caught, and therefore dead.

  The smell of growing things was pleasant, but he missed the fresh scent of salt water and the bracing chill of the wind. Duncladach made a man stand tall and roar, brandishing his claymore. Surrounded by Graham land, protected by steep hills and lochs, danger would come from within. Disease and weather, pestilence, and the prejudice of villagers toward what they didn’t understand. A man could not fight that with a sword.

  This life was not for him. Without daily battle practice he would lose his edge, which meant death. And what would he do all day? If Isabel and Janet could live here with naught but a shepherd and a handful of plowmen, why would Calltuin need a pair of MacDougals?

  When they got to King James, he’d still ask for the lass. Murray said Calltuin was Isabel’s dowry, and the king always took a portion from his wards. Let the king take Calltuin for another. He would take the woman.

  She stirred. Her face hid nothing, small muscles twitching as she frowned and smiled. Was she dreaming of him? Her breath caught for a moment. When she exhaled it was with a smile. She settled once more,
snug in his arms. His heart lurched. He’d held his little brothers when they were sick, but felt none of this tender need.

  Isabel was quite a woman. She’d not been raised as a proper lady. Janet had not taught her it was a sin to lie with your man under the sun. She delighted in their touch, had even laughed when she rode him to climax, discovering her womanly power and loving it with every part of her being.

  His cock stirred, eager for more. He’d set it between her cheeks as they rested. As it grew it rubbed between those mounds, growing harder as he anticipated the day he could thrust between them and take her arse.

  Would his cock wake her? She needed the sleep and may be sore. He’d not wake her on purpose but if she did, and was willing, he was ready to ensure she was thoroughly ravished.

  Her breath caught. She tensed under his hand.

  “Did my cock wake ye?”

  She blushed. “If that’s what’s scratching along my arse, then aye.”

  He chuckled, pulling her snug against him.

  “’Tis growing again,” she said.

  “It wants more of ye. As do I.” He let her rising nipples poke between his fingers. “Rory’s gone to catch supper. I have ye all to myself.”

  “And what do ye wish to do with me?” Her voice was musical and teasing.

  “That depends how sore ye are. I could bring ye to yer peak without my entering ye, or I could fill ye again with my seed.”

  “I’m nay too sore,” she replied with a sultry smile of welcome.

  It was her combination of sexy siren, strong worker, and eager partner that attracted him. It also tied him into a knot. He wanted her, but what if accepting her as a wife meant he was tied here? No matter, the king could easily give her to another.

  Tearlach returned her smile. “Yer eyes may be brown, but in the sun I see flecks of gold.” He sifted his hands through her soft hair. “There is gold here as well, and red. Yer lashes are so long they make yer eyes look big.” He drew his finger down her nose.