by Vivian Arend
“Ahh, there you are.” He motioned with a finger crook. “I require your services, my good man. Out in the yard.”
Damon rose slowly, suspicion on his face. “I’m supposed to help Addie.”
“You’re supposed to do heavy lifting,” Alastair corrected. He glanced around the room. “Anything you need help with in the next while?”
Addie could lie, but there was nothing in the room too big for her to deal with herself. She shook her head, smiling reassuringly at Damon. “Go on. I’ll need you later, though, in the library. If that’s okay?”
Damon nodded his agreement, turning to Alastair. “I’ll catch up with you in a moment.” He waited until Alastair was gone before coming to her side. “If you don’t want me to go…”
“Don’t be silly. I’m fine. Niall is not going to show up again. I think you tied his tail in a good, solid knot the last time he bothered me.”
“Hmm, I didn’t, but that’s a great idea if we ever need it in the future.”
She gave his arm a squeeze. “I look forward to our coffee break this afternoon, whatever time you blow back into the room.”
Suggestion hung on the air between them.
“Between now and then you should lose your panties,” he growled.
Oh lordy. Her heart skipped a beat and said panties got instantly wet. “Well now. Do ladies do such things?”
“Sauce for the goose…” A low rumble escaped his chest, and he leaned in to kiss her. A firm and possessive touch that sent her senses reeling before he strolled from the room, casting a cocky glance over his shoulder as he winked farewell.
Addie finished her work in the dining hall far sooner than expected. She made her way to the second floor, pausing to peer out the window. Damon was working with a group of the local men, moving antique buggies around the yard. Full sun lit the area, and he’d stripped to the blue kilt around his hips. The firm muscles in his chest and upper body corded as he put hands to one of the old carts and pushed. It crept across the yard, two other men directing at the front. Lordy. He was strong as a workhorse, and all those muscles were hers every time he focused his attention on her.
And…she was drooling.
Addie wiped her mouth and headed to her next work area. She’d been cataloging her way through the library one section at a time. It was the biggest room in the entire house, with the most work, and contrary to Damon’s tease about working methodically, she’d found in the past it was best to break up the most detailed tasks.
She walked to the middle of the room, pausing to admire her surroundings. This was another reason why she loved her job. Cataloging history was one thing, but books were an adventure all in themselves. And old libraries had the best of both worlds—beauty and history, tangled together.
The shelves here were two storeys high, the second level accessed by spiral staircase in the corner. The lower shelves were reached by sliding ladders, their curved upper edges attached to a smooth, metal railing running the perimeter of the room.
She glanced around in appreciation then headed to where she had stopped the previous week except…shoot.
“Arghhhhh,” she shouted into the quiet of the library. “My iPad.”
Like she’d informed Damon days earlier, having an eidetic memory didn’t mean she never pulled stupid boners. She marched back to the door, intending to grab her iPad from the bathroom where she clearly remembered leaving it beside the sink.
The knob turned, but the door remained stubbornly shut. Tugging harder changed nothing, and after trying a dozen different things, including throwing her weight at it, she gave up.
Stupid old doors, in silly old buildings. At least she’d told Damon where she would be, so once he was done, he’d come to get her.
Addie returned to the window and glanced out. Sure enough, he was still there, and she watched for while, ogling him happily before turning back to her task. She’d just have to take notes on paper and transfer to her files later.
She started at the bottom with a set of reference material for gardening, getting absorbed in her task for an hour. She pushed the ladder aside to access the collection better, but it caught on something, and she glanced up in surprise.
A section of books in the top row seemed oddly out of place. Most of the antique covers were grouped together, but here a batch had gold spines instead of brown, and one of them was sticking out far enough to get in her way.
Addie had one foot on the second rung when the door creaked opened behind her. She whirled, calling out in a panic, “Don’t shut it.”
Addie’s shout of concern caught him off-guard. He hadn’t sensed anything, and for one moment, absolute fear shot through him, and his wolf broke to the surface for the first time in days. Damon shoved the beast away as fast as he’d risen. “What’s wrong?”
“The door locked on me. Check it before you close it, or we’ll be trapped in here all night.”
His heart rate dropped in relief. The door—that was nothing scary. He examined it carefully, working the tumblers a few times before shutting himself outside and then in. “Not sure what I did but the problem is solved.”
Addie offered a smile that sent flames through his body. “My hero.”
Hallelujah. Exactly what he wanted to hear. After spending a couple hours in hard physical labour, he was ready for a different kind of exercise.
He’d been annoyed at Alastair at first, but the job had turned out to be a real one, and Glenn and the other men of the manor were easy to work with. In all, Damon felt it had been a good use of his time, joking and getting to know the locals—solid individuals, the lot of them.
The fact Alastair stayed, probably intent on mocking him for being a lowly labourer, didn’t bother Damon one bit. It meant the man wasn’t annoying Addie. And Niall had remained in sight as well, going over the carriages as they moved them as if worried another will would miraculously appear at any moment.
Yup, with Addie safe, Damon didn’t care how many times he got hooked to a cart and used like an old horse.
But now? Now he had something else on his mind, and so did she, from the expression on her face and the way she was coquettishly tiptoeing her way around the room.
Locking the door from the inside.
Oh, hell yeah.
“Your rescuer requires attention,” he warned.
She clasped her hands together like an old-time maiden facing an evil villain. “Oh, dear, is my virtue in danger?”
Damon stalked toward her, the urgency in his gut riding higher the longer they were together. She was exactly what he looked for in a playmate, exactly what he liked as a lover. Eager and willing. And hotter than a Fourth of July firecracker. “Virtuous women. Do you know what I do to such ladies?”
She’d made it back to her starting point, shimmying up the first rungs of the ladder to gaze down at him, delight dancing in her eyes as he took hold of either side of the ladder, his hands firmly trapping her hips. “You do dastardly things to them? I hope.”
“I do fucking dirty things to them. Dirty, nasty, wonderful fucking things.” He caught hold of her skirt and shoved it to her waist in one move. “Hmmm. I told you no panties, sweetheart.”
He glanced up, her big eyes washing him with desire as the flecks of whisky gold sparkled. “I must have forgotten.”
Damon chuckled. “You never forget anything,” he reminded her.
“Not true. I never forget anything for long, but I do forget things.” The last words came out in a gasp as he stroked his fingers along her inner thigh. He dragged his gaze off her face, watching his hands instead as he snuck one finger under the edge of her pale pink panties and drew them down her leg.
“Hold tight to the ladder,” he ordered. “Don’t let go.”
He made sure her right foot was solidly on the rung then caught hold of her left leg, resting her knee on his shoulder. The position put her wide open to him, the scent of her desire growing, and he was ready in an instant.
“I�
�m going to fuck you with my tongue,” he told her happily, as if he had just ordered a coffee at his favourite coffee shop. “And after you’ve come a few times, I’ll fuck you with my fingers.”
He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her mound. Addie moaned, keeping her hands where he’d told her, which was good because he didn’t want to worry about her falling. Hell, if she did fall, it would be into him, but he wanted her focused on the pleasure he was about to give her.
And then he didn’t have the willpower to wait any longer. He shoved forward and licked her top to bottom eagerly, as if he’d gone without a drink for days. He licked and sucked, wrapping his lips around her clit and pulsing rhythmically until she rocked against him, echoing every move he made. He worked harder, flicking his tongue until she shook, a gentle orgasm this time, which was fine, because this was just a warm-up.
He pulled back, his mouth wet from her body. He reached up a hand and drew his fingers over her lips. “Open for me, pretty wolf. Get my fingers wet. As wet as you are, so I can fuck you with them. I’m gonna make you scream, and after that we’ll see about what else I put in this pretty cunt of yours.”
Her eyes widened, her mouth opened in surprise at his crude words, and he took total advantage, slipping his fingers in over her tongue. Pulsing them slowly until they were soaking wet.
“Was that too dirty for you, my Scottish princess?”
Her eyes were still wide, but she shook her head as he thrust his fingers into her mouth, preparing them for what he was about to do next.
“Hmmm. I’m not a hero, I’m one of your neighboring clansmen, come to ravage my enemy. And you are my plunder. My reward, and I’m going to spoil you, and you’ll be mine, forever.” He pulled his fingers from her mouth with a pop, expecting her to laugh, or expecting her to tell him to get on with the fucking.
Instead, she batted her lashes. “Please, Laird Wolf. I accept your rule. My husband was a despot, and you have done me a favour by ridding him of his foul life. Take your reward.” She licked her lips, staring down intently, and between one second and the next the room was far too hot.
It was a good thing all he was wearing was an old linen shirt and the blue kilt around his hips. Even with her leg over him, the shirt came off in an instant, shredded fabric fluttering to the floor. The kilt followed, another tear rending the air so that seconds later he stood naked in his boots before her.
She glanced down, and that hint of amusement he’d come to expect flitted across her eyes.
Shit. He realized where she was going the second before she said it. “You call me Puss in Boots, and I swear I’ll tan your backside.”
Addie blinked, all sweetness and innocence. “Would I do that, my laird?”
“In an instant,” Damon drawled.
He lifted her off the ladder to the closest flat surface, which was a large oak desk. A sheaf of blank paper and a stapler blocked his way, and he shoved them aside mindlessly. The stapler hit the floor first with the papers fluttering after, but his attention was on removing her clothing. She was as eager as him, jerking off her top as he expertly undid her bra strap and flung it behind them. Seconds later she was naked as well.
Oh God, she was naked, and she was gorgeous, and it was a good thing they’d already had some foreplay, because this boat was leaving, now. He caught hold of her hips, jerked her to the edge of the table, lined up his cock and buried himself deep.
“Damon.” Her shout echoed off the high ceilings, and he froze.
She was still smiling.
Her mouth hung open, a haze of lust drifting into her gold-tinged eyes. “Laird Wolf. Have your way with me,” she begged.
Damon lost it. He caught hold of her hips, thrust forward again and again, pressing a hand to the table as he pounded into her willing body. He still wore his black leather boots, but other than that they were both naked as the day they were born, solid grunts and cries of ecstasy escaping their lips.
Addie took him. Accepted him, hell, she urged him on, reaching forward and scratching her nails down his back as he leaned over her.
This was the man. It wasn’t the wolf side of him. That beast remained hidden, and while Damon didn’t understand it—his wolf enjoyed sex is much as any animal—he wasn’t about to go looking for the creature. Right now he was focused on the woman under him, willing, and eager, and all too mesmerizing. He pulled out and stilled himself, his cock aimed at the entrance to her body. They were both breathing heavily, her chest shaking on every gasp.
She licked her lips. “Don’t stop, make me sing.”
He had every intention of doing that, but first…
Damon flipped her, resting her chest on the table as he leaned over and dusted a kiss on the back of her neck. “Is this okay?” he whispered, breaking character for a moment.
In answer, she stretched her hands above her on the table, placing herself under his complete control. “Ooh, are you going to punish me, my laird?” she teased.
All the blood drained from his head and went straight to his already impossibly hard cock as she egged him on in the most wicked way. He kissed his way down her spine until his lips met her lower back where the sweet swell of her ass began. “You’ve been disobedient, but I’ll teach you to behave.”
He rubbed a hand over her ass then brought it down with a sharp snap. Her creamy skin warmed against his palm, and the little gasp that escaped her lips was all about pleasure.
He couldn’t last long, but he would make sure they had fun. “You’ve been disobedient, haven’t you?” he repeated.
“Yes, Laird Wolf.”
“I’m going to fuck your cunt hard so you know who it belongs to now.”
“Yes, Laird Wolf.” Breathless. Excited.
He struck again, his left hand this time, a sharp resounding snap hanging in the air followed by a moan from her lips.
He spanked her a couple more times, but it was all in play, and when she wiggled back, nudging the erection set firmly between her legs, he took the hint and slid inside.
They both sighed happily.
Addie glanced out of the corner of her eye, smiling sweetly. “Finish storming the castle.”
He rocked forward, slowly at first before increasing speed. He pushed one of her legs onto the table, spreading her wide, his cock driving deeper, and a sound of satisfaction escaped.
It became part of the rhythm of sex. Groan, withdraw, thrust, sigh, withdraw, thrust, cry of pleasure.
She broke, shaking under him, and that was all he needed. Damon lost control and came, slipping free of her body and shooting his seed over her rounded ass cheeks. He pumped himself to get every last drop, eager spray flying up her back until ribbons of white marked her brown skin.
He fell forward, barely catching himself in time, hands slapping on the hard tabletop as his breath raced, his brain gone foggy. She lay still, panting as hard as him, the fingers of her right hand tangled in his as they tried to recover.
“I have been thoroughly debauched,” Addie finally declared. “Oh, woe is me.”
Damon couldn’t resist. He pressed his palm to her skin and slowly rubbed his seed in. “I’m marking you like the animal I am,” he growled, loving the shiver that raced across her skin. “I’ve taken charge of all items of value here, and you, my lady, are what I claim as my reward.”
He pulled her off the table and into his arms, lowering them into the nearest chair because his legs really weren’t strong enough to hold them both up.
She glanced down, smirking as she realized he was still wearing nothing more than his boots. “You know, instead of Laird Wolf, maybe we should call you—”
Damon pressed his lips over hers to stop her from saying it, capturing her laugh with his mouth as he smiled. It had been a fine day, pillaging and all.
He wasn’t minding this excursion to Scotland. Not one bit.
Chapter Ten
Addie fought for air.
Wild, hopeless fear enveloped her, and she wiggled, trapped by
strong, muscular limbs that seemed determined to pin her to the bed.
She knew it was a nightmare, and the emotions weren’t hers. That the images rushing through her brain might be frightening and soul chilling, but they couldn’t really hurt her. They weren’t real.
That knowledge didn’t make it any better, though, as she lay cradled in Damon’s arms. Whatever strange barrier had been between them, the one that had allowed her to touch him without being swamped by emotion, the barrier was failing.
It wasn’t a dissonance of raw emotion swamping her like she’d received from Niall the other week. More a slow trickle, memories building one on top of the other, jangled images and strong feelings of guilt and sadness. Agonizing, crushing loss.
All of it came from Damon, and she rolled to face him, terrified the situation might get worse. Even more terrified she might not be able to help him. She twisted away as a memory struck as sharp as a physical blow.
The images continued to escalate in intensity, including flashes of men with ski masks over their faces, and a rising bloodlust. His emotion, not hers.
Damon’s arm lay heavily over her body, their legs tangled together, and she fought down a whimper as she dragged herself free. After that day in the garden, they’d taken to sleeping together in their human forms. It had felt so good to have constant touch, and not have to worry about the consequences, but it seemed they’d been wrong.
She was desperate not to wake him, desperate not to have to explain why she was nearly sick to her stomach. He’d feel it was his fault for frightening her—she knew that’s what he’d think, and it was the last thing she wanted.
Addie escaped from the bed, swamped by her own full-blown combination of relief and guilt.
Damon twitched in his sleep, his face folded in a grimace as if he was suffering.
That was the kicker. She knew exactly what he was feeling, the cause and the hurt. He was reliving that night he’d told her about—the night he’d lost Caitlin, and if she were brave she’d hold him and take away his pain, but she was so afraid.