Desire in Tartan: 2 (Highland Vampires) (11 page)

“How does that feel?”

“Um, strange.”

“Good strange or bad?”

She wiggled and the finger went deeper still, stinging her tender opening. “I’m not sure.”

He pumped in and out. She groaned, finding any part of him inside any part of her exciting, but this new experience was also fraught with pain. Pain from her well-spanked rump and a sizzle inside her arse from his torturing, caressing finger that now withdrew and traced a tiny circle around the tight little hole, which she imagined had now been opened a little wider.

“I’ll not take ye here tonight, wife. You’re not ready.”

The thought of his big cock inside such a small space frightened and intrigued her. She moaned, rubbing her mound against his rock-hard thighs. He squeezed the halves of her arse and she cried out, the squeeze amplifying the sting left by the spanking.

“But you do have another virginity to give.” He stood, lifting her as though she were made of feathers, and sat her upright on the side of the bed.

Her bum was sore and her head was spinning. “What do you mean?”

After checking on the belt securing her wrists with a hearty tug, he knelt before her and looked up into her face with his bright, dark, compelling eyes. “There are many ways to pleasure each other, ye ken? I can kiss ye here, on your mouth, and it’s good, is it no’?”

“Yes, I love to kiss you.”

He leaned forward and plunged his tongue into her mouth with a demanding thrust. “And I can kiss and fondle your bubbies.” He gripped her breasts and kneaded them through her chemise with insistent hands.

“Yes, I like that,” she whispered.

“And your sweet quim.” He slid his hands down and she parted her thighs to give him access. He played with her for a few seconds, then said, “And I can go into all these places with me cock.”

Her mouth dropped open as she tried to envision Dugald’s cock between her breasts or her lips. She failed. How could that work?

“Aye.” He stood and opened his trews, folding back the dark cloth to reveal his erect cock. Thick, round and red, it contrasted with the nest of black hair from which it sprung and the pale skin on his belly upon which it rested. “Will ye give it a try, lassie?”

“I…suppose.”

He leaned forward and the tip of his cock bobbed against her lips. He slid a hand around her head to guide her. “Open your mouth and kiss me. Please.”

Even though her hands were tied, he’d asked so nicely… She breathed deeply and did as he wanted, allowing the round head entry, thinking about how she could kiss something that seemed so…unkissable, like kissing an iron bar.

But it didn’t feel like an iron bar. In contrast to most of Dugald, whom she’d noticed was cool or even cold to the touch, his cock was hot, and covered with velvety-soft, satiny-smooth skin that seemed so different from the rest of his body.

It filled her mouth to an almost uncomfortable degree and she pulled her head back so she was kissing only the tip. She feared that Dugald would be angry, but instead he groaned the same way he did when his cock was inside her quim.

She kissed again, harder, sucking a little. The volume of his groan increased. Hmm. So she took in a little more, the entire cap of the thing, setting her lips around the ridge.

“Oohhh…”

That had worked well, so she tried it again, maybe sucking a little harder.

Dugald became louder still.

I wonder if I can…
She opened her mouth as wide as she could and took in his entire cock as far as it would go. Her nose was in the wiry, curly dark hair at the base of his rod and she sniffed, breathed in deeply, learning his unique male aroma. His scent reminded her of the sharp but pleasant smell of pine sap, autumn wind and something else. Just…Dugald. Her man.

She closed her mouth, finding him in a bit too far for her taste, and rubbed her tongue against his length while pulling away.

He emitted a strangled cry and seized her head in his big, broad, capable hands and guided her so that he was taking her with his cock as though her mouth was a quim. She lost count of the number of times he bucked in and out of her, but suddenly her mouth filled with a thick, hot, pungent liquid. His seed, she guessed, but what was she supposed to do with it? ‘Twould be insulting in some way to spit it out, she realized, and in any case she didn’t want it all over their bed.

She swallowed hard and gave him one last suck. He dropped onto the bed like a great weight beside her and, with drowsy, half-lidded eyes, untied her hands. He flung the belt away before taking her into his arms.

“Och,
mo dòchas…
thank ye.” He squeezed her tightly and kissed her, rubbing her shoulders. “Are you all right?”

“Never better.”

He raised a brow. “I doubt that.” He slid down the bed and parted her thighs.

Guessing what was to come, she giggled and spread her legs wider. “I like this.”

“I’m verra glad ye do.” He bent his dark head, the strands of his hair gleaming in the waning candlelight, and shoved his tongue into her slit.

She wiggled, pushing her tingling bottom down into the bedclothes to urge his tongue onto her bump, hoping he’d take the hint. He did, and reached up to put his finger inside her while he kissed her, taking her higher and higher.

The shimmering colors again flashed behind her closed lids as his finger sawed in and out and his tongue licked up and down, pushing her determinedly toward a climax. When it came, she gripped her breasts and pinched the tips the way Dugald had.

Her body became a living flame, a creature made entirely of pleasure, and entirely his.

Smaller by one man and far more somber, their procession left Kilbirnie the next morning. Alice would have liked to tarry longer, but they’d lost a day to the Beans as well as a friend, and the brutal Highland winter would soon overtake them. The men seemed to feel the effects of the feast that had followed the handfasting. Apparently while she and Dugald had been abed, the rest of the Kilburns had been doing their utmost to empty the castle’s casks of whisky and ale.

The next few days were uneventful, with Alice surprised by how rapidly they traveled. She’d not been mistaken about the physical toll, however. The strain of staying on Mary through the long days of riding exhausted her, and every evening she’d rub her sore ankle, roll up in blankets with Dugald then fall asleep immediately, awakening at dawn. After a swift breakfast of cold bannocks left over from the night before, they’d ride for another long day, stopping only when nightfall made safe travel impossible. The men would roast oatcakes and catch a fish or two or three for dinner, which would be washed down with cold, clean stream water.

She was warm and cozy, though. Lady Kilbirnie had made certain that Alice’s clothing was ample and clean. Plus the effort she expended staying on Mary was sheer physical exertion. But as the days passed, her ankle pained her less and her muscles became used to the long hours of riding. She now sat Mary with ease, tiring only toward the end of the day.

One gray morning Alice awakened alone and cold, her cocoon of blankets covered by a soft powdering of snow. “Dugald?”

Boots crunched on icy ground as he approached, fully dressed. A few yards away, the men were rising, busily rolling up blankets and seeing to their mounts.

“Mistress.” Dugald kneeled and kissed her cheek. His lips were as chill as the morning.

She touched her palm to his face. “Are you feeling all right?”

He picked her up and set her upright, her stockinged feet protected by the blanket. “Och, aye. Soon we’ll reach the keep of milaird’s ward, my nephew Edgar MacReiver. From there ‘tis less than a day to Kilburn. Home.”

The quiet joy in his voice warmed her more than his kiss, and she hugged him tight. He flung his plaidie over them both, creating a protective cocoon within which they could touch privately all they wished. Opportunities for intimacy had been scarce since they’d left Kilbirnie Castle and she welcomed his love. A place inside her, once opened, had become desperate to be filled as often as possible.

She wondered about that feeling. Before she’d met Dugald Kilburn, she’d come to see herself as on the shelf, loveless forever. A woman caught between two worlds and welcome in neither, she’d accepted her lot, seeking only survival and p’raps a little occasional comfort. Now she wanted everything any other woman desired and knew that through her husband she’d enjoy a comfortable home, meaningful work and, p’raps, children to cherish.

To say nothing of Dugald’s love.

Her husband was the source of all joy and she worshipped him. But what did he feel?

Her, it seemed. He cupped her uncorseted breasts beneath the thin chemise and thumbed the nipples, hard with cold and desire. Sliding her hands into his hair, she shoved her tongue into his mouth and sucked hard.

He jerked his head away. “Whisht!” He laughed. “What kind of wanton have I created?”

“Your wanton, husband.” She reached down and gave his cock a playful tweak. Even through his heavy trews, she could find his length with ease.

He promptly hardened. “I doonae ken how ye do that, even in the falling snow. He ought to be slumbering, but when around ye, the auld fellow seems to come alive again.”

Alice snorted. “Auld fellow, indeed.” She took the member in question in a firmer grip and undulated toward him, pressing her mound onto his hardening tool.

He wrapped his arms around her and flattened his palms onto her buttocks. Squeezing, he drew her closer until his cock hit the sweetest spot. She sighed with delight before kissing him again. Wonderful to take pleasure in her husband’s embrace, where she belonged forever.

She rubbed his rod up and down her bump until her body started to weaken. “Help me,” she breathed, and he did, holding her upright.

She nestled into his arms, confident he’d never let her fall, and she let herself relax and again focus on the glittering lights, the weakness in her limbs, the heat in her body until she came, limp in his arms, glowing.

After a few minutes, he let her down and she swayed unsteadily.

He smiled at her and said, “Kneel.”

Responding to the command in his voice, she obeyed, her knees protected from the frozen ground by the crumpled blankets still surrounding them. Then his trews dropped past his knees, and she was confronted by his erect length in her face.

“Wha-what do you want?”

“Kiss me.”

She made to stand, but his hands on her shoulders kept her in place, where he wanted her.

“Kiss me. Now.”

Alice eyed her husband’s length. What, exactly did he want? Her mind flashed back to her wedding night. Oh. That.

“Please.”

“Uh, how?”

“Any way ye wish, mistress. The way ye did it before was…verra nice.”

She looked up. He smiled down.

“Oh.” She eyed his cock again then leaned forward and set her lips atop the rounded head of his shaft, kissing it. What had she done before?

She couldn’t remember. That night had been so tumultuous—first she’d been handfasted, then they’d talked about the mysterious Elsbeth, his first wife. That had been distressing enough, to learn that he’d previously been married but had not bothered to tell her. She still did not know how she felt about that.

Then her husband had tied her hands behind her back, spanked her bottom to tingling and then explored inside her bum.
Then
she’d kissed his member, but couldn’t for the life of her recall what she’d done.

Withdrawing, she scrutinized his length, puzzled, then resolved to try her best, but two no different objects could be found than Dugald’s mouth and his cock. One was a cave and the other a pillar. But…

Opening her mouth, she took him inside her in the same way her cunny would accept his length. Her tongue seemed to be in the way and she didn’t know quite what she should do with it. She wiggled it this way and that and was rewarded by a deep sigh followed by a happy groan.

That was good, so she licked some more then gave him a good hard suck, the way she liked to treat his tongue. Today, Dugald’s cock was like a tasty roasted sausage, hot and thick in her mouth. Would it steam if she withdrew?

She tried that and yes, it steamed in the frosty air. She giggled.

“What is it,
mo dòchas
?”

“I was wondering if you were going to catch fire.”

“When ye suck on me, aye, I do feel as though I will flame like a torch. Please, donnae stop.” He wrapped one big hand in her hair, and tugging gently, he controlled her, urging her to take him again.

This time she sucked and nipped, then sucked some more. Curiously, his pleasure seemed to heighten hers. She reached one hand between her petticoat’s waistband and groped, lifting her chemise to find her quim hot and flowing.

She rubbed her bump while she continued to kiss and lick his rod. She’d learned that one climax could lead swiftly to another but was distracted by the task Dugald had set for her. Kissing his cock was something that required her entire attention, because it was so big it threatened to overwhelm her mouth. Try as she might, she couldn’t get the whole thing in comfortably. Instead she pulled her hand out of her petticoat and wrapped it around the base of his cock, above his cods, and squeezed.

A hearty shout was followed by thick spurts of his seed in her mouth and, as before, she swallowed it all.

He crouched next to her and she cradled his lolling head to her breast. He sighed. “Och,
mo dòchas,
I wish we could stay thus all day long.”

“But time’s fleeting. I understand you wish to get to your home.”

“Yer home too, lassie.” He cocked an eyebrow at her.

She swallowed. Truth to tell, she was becoming more and more nervous as they approached the Kilburn lands, where she’d have to meet her employers—who were also her new family. What if they did not like her? What if she did not like them?

She rose. Dugald wrapped the plaidie over her and she began to dress.

* * * * *

The men seemed to have relaxed because they were so close to their destination, even stopping for a midday meal near a stream. They filled up on bannocks, with Dugald explaining, “This eve, we’ll rest at MacReiver Castle, and ‘tis less than a day from there to Kilburn. So we can finish the remainder of the provisions now.” He munched on the last bit of sausage the Kilbirnie cook had packed and reached for a flask of ale, one of their last.

Wrapped in her red cloak, her back against a tree stump, Alice picked at the remains of an oatcake. The rest of the men were scattered around the clearing, some lying in the thin, meager sunlight, so rare in early November. She closed her eyes, thinking,
He’ll rouse me before we need to leave.

She awakened stiff, sore and cold. A slight mist had gathered, and the remains of the sunlight slanted through the trees at an angle that told her that a couple of hours had passed. She hauled herself to her feet. Around the tiny glade the Kilburns still slumbered on, which she found odd. Why had everyone slept so long? P’raps because they’d eaten so much, but she rarely napped despite the rigors of the trail. She was certain without asking that Murdo, Blain and Dugald hadn’t indulged in an afternoon nap since they were small.

Dugald… Where was he? She looked around. The light was dim, even green, oddly dark for midafternoon. Because of the fog? She had never seen the like— the shade of virulent green was nothing she’d ever seen outside one of her father’s chemistry experiments, when he’d create orbs of green light and peculiar liquids that formed crystals—but p’raps the sun in this part of Scotland glowed green in the afternoon.

A chill raced up her spine, lifting the tiny hairs at her nape. Something wasn’t right. The light wasn’t right. Their excessive sleepiness wasn’t right.

“Dugald?” She looked around again and saw him.

He was standing at the opposite side of the clearing amidst the strange lights, which wavered, coalesced, then broke apart into writhing figures that surrounded him.

“Dugald!” she screamed.

He didn’t turn, didn’t make any gesture that showed that he heard her.

She ran across the dell, stumbling over tree roots and once falling over a body—Archie’s. She rolled him over and saw that his mouth was partially open. He was mumbling incoherently, “
Baobhan-sith, baobhan-sith
.” A long tendril of drool escaped from the side of his mouth.

Bava what? She didn’t know, and babble wouldn’t help their predicament, for she had become certain that something terrible and dangerous was taking place.

She stood and, gripping her long skirts in a shaking hand, advanced upon Dugald and the mysterious green glows. The shifting lights resolved into women, white-faced women with red-rimmed mouths. Alice was reminded horribly of Malcolm and Blain with the street whore, and of Dugald’s manner of killing the Beans. Their mouths had been red-rimmed, also—rimmed with red blood.

The women surrounded Dugald. One seized his head and dragged it to one side, exposing the big artery. Alice was now close enough to see his pulse.

The creature bared its teeth—its shiny, white, sharp teeth. Two were pointed like fangs.

She…
it
…sank them into Dugald’s neck.

“Not my husband, you…you monster!” Alice sprang at the creature, grabbed it by its glowing green hair and hauled it off him. Dugald fell to the ground and rolled over, panting, black blood dripping from his neck.

The creature turned and laughed, the eerie cry unforgettable. It extended clawed fingertips toward Alice, reaching for her hair. She clenched her fist and socked it in the midsection.

Already surprised by her own ferocity, Alice was doubly stunned when her punch seemed to shatter its icy body. She gasped and shook her hand, which felt as though it had been plunged into a frozen stream.

The creature screamed, bent over like a broken twig. Alice gave it a firm shove toward the pool. It tumbled in, shrieking. As she watched, it seemed to dissipate as though the water had dissolved its icy core. A green stain spread over the pond’s clear water.

“Who’s next?” Alice advanced toward the rest of the strange creatures, which seemed to melt into the forest. She turned back to Dugald.

He was on his hands and knees, coughing.

“Are you all right?”

He shook his head, and she knelt to examine his throat. Whipping out her hanky, she wiped the dark, sticky substance off his neck then stared, astounded, at his unmarred flesh.

The jingle of a horse’s harness diverted her attention and she raised her head to see four horsemen entering the glade.

Her astonishment increased, for their leader possessed an unearthly beauty. As his gray paced through a shaft of sunlight, his hair gleamed golden, even formed a halo. His eyes were as pure a blue as the summer sky, deep and soulful, and he had the most beautiful face Alice had ever beheld. Was he also a fae creature and a threat?