by C. A. Szarek
The words enflamed Ashlyn and her thighs vibrated of their own accord even before he laved her sex from top to bottom. “Oh, God,” she moaned.
He tormented her, kissing and nibbling everywhere but where she needed his mouth. She whimpered, then he chuckled and did it again.
“You…tease.”
Eoin flashed a wicked grin, and nipped her inner thigh. “So wet fer me, already. An’ ye taste like honey.”
She bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out when he probed her opening with a gentle fingertip. Then he drove forward to his knuckles, and sucked her clit into his mouth.
Ashlyn hollered his name and buried her hands in his hair. Her hips lifted of their own accord and she came hard, panting to stave off blackened vision. She chanted his name and shook from head to foot. Pleasure washed over her with every stroke of his fingers and tongue, until she was almost too sensitive.
But then he was there, pulling her into his arms and holding her close, kissing her tenderly. She could taste her essence, and it zinged renewed desire over her limbs.
“More, Eoin. I need you inside me,” she begged, rocking her hips into his.
“Aye, lass.” His voice was so deep it was almost unrecognizable. He grunted, and guided his erection to her core.
Eoin surged back to her, joining them in a hard thrust that pulled a long moan from her.
She tugged his hair when he stilled above her.
“Did I hurt ye?” The veins in his neck stood out, as if he was holding himself back by the barest thread.
Ashlyn shook her head. “No. No. Kiss me and move. I need you to move.”
“Gladly.” He pushed his pelvis against hers as he did her bidding, sealing his mouth over hers.
Every thrust made her soar higher. She clung to him, first with her arms around his neck, then gripping his biceps when his pistoning lost rhythm and she could only hold on. Sweat blanketed them both, but she didn’t care.
Orgasm started to build and retreat with his movements, driving her crazy.
The faster he went, the harder he kissed her, until she saw stars. Ashlyn kept up, moving under him, with him.
She finally tugged away from their latest lip-lock when her muscles constricted. She jerked and ecstasy slammed into her. She gripped his arms because she needed to hold on to something.
Eoin grunted and stiffened above her as he came inside her, then he buried his face in her neck, his big body shuddering.
Gooseflesh peppered Ashlyn’s body as her sex contracted, milking his, and her belly warmed with the rush of release.
“Jesu, lass,” he murmured against her overheated skin. When he lifted his head and met her gaze, his eyes were heavy-lidded and sated.
I did this to him.
She kissed him, because she didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to express how he’d just made her feel.
The romance writer. Speechless after sex.
It was for the best, probably. So she wouldn’t blurt something like, ‘this is the kind of sex I write about.’
Because it was.
Eoin took over the kiss and held her tight even as he slipped from her body. Their mouths slanted again, languorous and heated, until Ashlyn’s already boneless form melded into his chest on a sigh he swallowed.
“Ashlyn,” he whispered. “Ashlyn. Yer…ye, lass. Yer…perfect.”
She flushed and fought the urge to avert her eyes. “You’re not so bad yourself.” She missed the mark on her attempt at humor. Her voice was too thick, a croak. She’d never had sex with someone she didn’t love.
Then again, this hadn’t felt like just sex. Had Eoin made love to her? She didn’t love him…but she cared for him. Could love him.
Ashlyn quaked.
I can’t love him. I have to go home.
“Are ye…okay, as ye say?” His brogue rolled over her, and she smiled at his use of the modern word.
She swallowed and nodded. “Aye.”
The grin he presented her with was lopsided and made her insides wobble.
“We traded words,” she whispered.
“We traded more than words, lass.” Eoin brushed his mouth over hers, but the tender gesture didn’t shake the dread from settling low in her belly.
Not because she regretted giving herself to him. She didn’t. Would do it again, and would likely get the chance.
Could her heart handle the fallout?
She still had to walk away from him in the end.
Chapter Fourteen
The sweet lass curled into his side made a noise in her sleep and Eoin nestled her closer. Ashlyn’s arm was thrown across his middle as if she owned him, but he didn’t mind. He liked the idea, actually. It felt right.
Is this my fate?
He’d taken her twice, and would’ve made it thrice had she not kept yawning after shattering in his arms the second time.
God’s blood, she was perfect.
He’d been reckless with her, releasing his seed inside her, but he’d lost control. Panic should be greeting him now; Eoin could’ve put a child on Ashlyn tonight, but the thought didn’t petrify him. It filled him with longing.
That should be alarming, too. Like nothing he’d felt before. Nothing he’d ever wanted.
He watched the rise and fall of her breasts as she slept in his arms. Contentment to match the peaceful repose on her beautiful visage settled over him, as well as a fierce protectiveness.
How the hell was he going to let her walk away?
I made her a vow.
“I’ve no choice,” he whispered.
Ashlyn stirred and her long lashes fluttered as she came around. “Eoin?” She took a breath that brushed her nipples against his side. Her legs rubbed his thigh as she stretched and pushed her golden locks out of her face.
His cock jumped and he had difficulty concentrating, but he forced his eyes to hers. “Sorry ta wake ye.”
She smirked. “It’s not like we got much sleep anyway.” Even in the dimness of his rooms, he could see the crimson tinge to her cheeks.
Eoin laughed. “Shall I apologize again?”
She shook her head, and her hair danced, teasing his bare skin. Ashlyn propped her torso on his chest, the softness of her flawless breasts pressing ever closer; his shaft tingled as blood filled it.
He’d be granite in seconds and she hadn’t even touched him there.
“I’m gonna be yawning until noon. Angus is going to wonder why I’m so tired.”
Eoin chuckled. “My grandfa has been ‘round a long time. I think he’ll have an idea.” He caressed her cheek, smiling when she kissed his palm.
“That doesn’t make me feel better,” she whispered.
“Why, lass?”
“Not sure I want him to know what we’ve been up to.”
“Fair enough.” He thumbed her cheekbone and his Ashlyn leaned into the touch.
She rested her hand on the outside of his and tilted her head. “I guess it was worth the no-sleep thing.”
“Ye guess? Ye arena certain?”
Her grin was wicked and she shook her head again.
Eoin growled and tugged her down to him, taking her mouth roughly, answering her dare. “Ye play wit’ fire, lass.” He pushed the statement into her lips.
“Then burn me.”
Tremors danced down his limbs when she slid her leg over him, straddling his hips. Her naked sex brushed his and his erection stood at attention, throbbing a demand.
She dragged her hands, then her breasts down his chest and he hissed.
“Vixen.”
Ashlyn giggled.
The soft curve of her bottom compressed his cock against his inner thigh, and his bollocks prickled. He gripped her waist when she started rocking her pelvis into his. The sensation was too much and not enough. “Lass.” It was supposed to be a demand, but came out a whispered plea.
His Ashlyn was making him beg.
She licked her lips and leaned down, pressing a small kiss to his mouth that was
also not nearly enough.
Eoin pushed his hands up her slender back, mapping every inch of her supple flesh.
She whimpered and dipped down for another kiss.
He fused his mouth to hers, pinning her to him with one hand on her neck and the other claiming the small of her back. Their tongues danced, dueled for dominance, until she pulled away with a pant.
“You were supposed to burn me.” Her dark eyes were pools of midnight and her gorgeous face was flushed pink, her freckles standing out in stark contrast. Her lips were swollen from his and parted just enough to make him want to taste her again.
“Yer in control. Ye mounted me,” he breathed.
Desire flared in her gaze and Ashlyn ground against him. “You’re right. I’m going to take what I want.”
Eoin groaned and pushed his head back into the plush feathers of his pillow.
She undulated, but didn’t put him inside her.
“Yer tryin’ ta kill me.”
A delighted laugh rolled over him and he smiled, but closed his eyes and breathed deeply, so his vision would stop dancing.
She teased him some more, kissing his neck and nibbling his chin, then pressed a scorching kiss to his mouth before moving on, laving her tongue down his chest.
His spine tingled as if he would orgasm and his bollocks pulsed. He was going to explode before he got inside her. “Lass, I canna wait.”
Ashlyn grabbed his hand and trailed his fingertips over her breasts, teasing her erect nipples, and moving down her belly. When she parted her folds with his fingers, they both moaned.
“Yer so wet. Take me, lass.”
Finally, finally, she gripped and guided his erection to her sex. With every inch she sank down, Eoin’s thoughts scattered and pleasure washed over him. Her body gripped his better than his favorite gauntlets. Hot, and so wet. Sweet, and all his.
When her bottom hit his thighs, he grabbed her hips and helped her thrust until they fell into a natural rhythm. She planted her hands on his chest for leverage and the pressure took his breath, but he didn’t care. She was riding him hard, rocking, thrusting, driving them higher and higher. His blood sang in his ears, well on its way to boiling over.
Ashlyn cried out, arching her back and closing her eyes. She tossed her head, making her hair fly wild and free, like the expression on her face as she climaxed. Her core squeezed his cock, giving him the last push before throwing him over the edge.
Eoin shuddered and lifted her, only to slam her pelvis into his as his release shot deep and his muscles went taut with each jerk inside her.
Air was scarce and his skin was too hot. He panted to force breath into his lungs, but the condition was echoed in his lass. Her breasts heaved as she came down and the image would be etched into his head for the rest of his days.
Her bare form shimmered in the dim light, covered in a sheen of sweat he wanted to lick off every inch of her. She was flushed a delicious pink from head to foot, a mix of vixen and innocent that drove him wild.
Ashlyn planted a hand on his abdominal muscles and he caught the other one, bringing her knuckles to his mouth to press kisses there.
She was shaking from exertion and he grabbed her slender biceps to help her slip off him and lie down. She gazed up at him as soon as her shoulders hit the linens. Her pretty eyes were half-mast and satisfied.
He hovered above her and lowered his mouth to hers. Eoin had to taste her again.
Words wouldn’t form, so he couldn’t tell her how beautiful she was when she let go like that, or how she’d made him feel.
Ashlyn had marked him. Branded him so he’d never want another woman.
When she walked away, she was going to leave him ruined.
A little voice whispered she was going to take his heart, but he ignored it. Pushed it away, refusing to examine what it could—what it did—mean.
“Eoin, what’s wrong?”
“Nothin’, lass. Ye take my breath away.” Truth. But that was as far as he could go with it. He’d made a vow and he’d see it through.
“You do the same to me.” Ashlyn kissed him again, a tiny tender thing that made him smile. She nestled close, resting her hand over his pounding heart and her head on his shoulder.
“Pleases me ta hear tha’,” he whispered. He stroked her arm to her elbow, reveling in her soft skin. Eoin could touch every part of her every day and never tire of exploring her, memorizing her.
Therein lay the problem.
“I should try to get some sleep.” She yawned and snuggled closer. “Nessie and some of the girls are going to market, and Fiona wants to go. She wants me to go, too. I want to see everything.”
“Oh?” He lifted his head to look down at her, but she’d already closed her eyes.
“Yeah. Jamie’s going, and some guards, I guess.”
“Aye.” He’d never let his sister go out without MacLeod men-at-arms, even if his steward and servants were to accompany her.
“Maybe I can…barter for something…” The statement was infused with sleep, and his Ashlyn drifted off before he could ask her how much coin she wanted to take.
In the morning, he’d mention to Jamie she was to have anything she wished.
Eoin’s heart skipped as he studied the lass he’d brought to his time against her will.
The lass who’d not only forgiven him, but had taken him into her arms, into her body, and made him feel in ways he never had with any other lover.
She’d only been in 1755 for days.
Too bad he couldn’t remember a time before her, and wasn’t looking forward to after she’d left him.
He swallowed the sorrow that rolled over him. It wasn’t fair to demand of Ashlyn how much time he had left with her.
Eoin had promised her time at Dunvegan was in her control. When she requested to be taken home, he’d do so without delay, because of his vow.
Did he dare tell her he’d changed his mind? Assert he couldn’t let her go?
Nay, I cannot. I will not be an honorless bastard.
The question was how would he go on after she’d left?
Chapter Fifteen
Ashlyn looked up from the parchment full of her notes when the yelling started.
Angus paused in mid-sentence. He’d been telling her the story of his parents’ marriage, how his mother had come to the Human Realm and met his father by accident.
So far, she’d been fascinated by the Fae, except she didn’t care for how they felt about humans—or those of mixed blood like Angus, Eoin and Fiona, as well as some other close cousins.
His poor mother had had to leave him with the MacLeods after his birth. He’d been with people who’d loved him, but the princess hadn’t been able to join them to live until he was almost ten years old. She’d missed out on years of his life, since she’d only been able to visit sporadically.
It made Ashlyn ache—the thought of a mother without her child. Especially a woman who was also away from her husband and they desperately loved each other. The hopeless romantic in her wanted to reject what’d happened.
The shouting got louder, and was multiple voices now. Males other than Eoin.
“What the heck?” she whispered, exchanging a look with Angus. She set the quill down, managing not to get ink on herself or her hands—a first, for sure. Learning to write with it had been a challenge.
Eoin had taught her how not to blot the ink, or have it drip and make her words illegible. He’d told her she had a neat hand, too.
She’d been in the eighteenth century for three weeks now, and had been his lover for most of that time. She shivered.
Ashlyn was falling hard for the laird and had been trying to talk herself out of it since those feelings started to surface. But then again, they’d been there since day one, if she was honest.
Eoin yelled again and there was a feminine response. They were too far away to make out specifics down the hall in Angus’ room, but the anger was clear.
Fiona.
“Oh
no,” she whispered, pushing to her feet at the same time the old man stood from his rocker.
He went to the window instead of the door. “Good. They’re here.”
“Who?” Ashlyn followed and spotted several horses clustered together in the bailey.
“The MacDonalds.”
She did the math and gasped. “Eoin’s gonna kill you.”
Angus chuckled. “Nay. This needs ta be settled. He wouldna handle it.”
“He won’t let her marry him.” So he’d told her over and over again when she’d asked about the almost-argument she’d witnessed the day she’d arrived, and after several other Fiona-Eoin shouting matches she’d witnessed since coming to 1755.
“We will see abou’ tha’. My lassie loves tha lad. His surname shouldna keep them apart. He’s a fine, braw lad. Come, lass, we have a meetin’.” He lifted his elbow and she slipped her hand onto his forearm, trying not to fidget at his side.
Eoin had been so staunch about his sister not marrying the boy she’d fallen for through clandestine trysts—though he surely didn’t know how they’d spent time together. Her lover was obviously angry, but she hoped his grandfather could prevent someone from getting hurt, as well as settle the matter, as he’d said.
There’d been peace between Clan MacLeod and Clan MacDonald for more than a hundred years. Her laird was being stubborn.
The girl had told Ashlyn she hadn’t had sex with Kenneth, but the young couple had done some exploring of each other’s bodies. If her brother found out, he’d either force them to marry—if the boy hadn’t been a MacDonald—or kill him. Fiona was still technically a virgin, but Eoin wouldn’t care.
Not that Ashlyn was about to share with the class. Fiona loved Kenneth, and she was all for them being together. Hopefully Angus could be the voice of reason.
She winced when they made into the laird’s solar—the lovely sunny and warm room where Eoin took meetings when he didn’t want to share the privacy of his small ledger room.
He had a sword in his hand.
Jamie, his cousin and Clan Steward, stood next to him, his eyes darting all over, face pale.
Fiona was on her feet, arms and legs spread out as she stood in front of a young redheaded man.