"I'm sorry," he said, his voice gravelly. "I'm... terribly sweaty. Perhaps I should... wash before I sleep. I wouldnae wan' t'... make ye uncomfortable." He began to move, but Lyla's hand on his arm stopped him.
"Let me," she said, hardly believing she was saying the words even as they fell from her mouth. Lachlan blinked at her in alarm. "It'll go quicker," Lyla supplied, though she knew it was a poor reason.
Lachlan nodded regardless, and she followed him into the wash room. It took only a few moments for the servants to be called and fill the tub, and though Lyla would have wished for a warm bath, Lachlan seemed not to mind the tepid water.
Lyla blushed as he unabashedly stripped off his nightshirt, revealing his naked body in all its glory. The muscles of his shoulders and back were strong and well defined, rippling all the way down to his rear as he moved. Lyla forced herself to look away until she heard him sink into the tub with a gentle grunt and awkwardly cleared his throat.
Hands shaking, Lyla picked up the cloth left by the servants and dipped it into the water, wringing out the excess. She was allowed to do this, she told herself, touching the cloth to one of Lachlan's shoulders.
His body was tense beneath her touch. He reached up to touch her hand, only for a second, before letting her resume her task. Lachlan's sweat gleamed on his bare chest, replaced by tiny droplets of water as Lyla wiped it off.
When her hand dipped below the water line to wash Lachlan's stomach, he gently grabbed her wrist to stop her hand and turned his head. Their lips were inches apart. Lyla sucked in a startled breath, her heart skipping a painful beat.
Lachlan lifted one hand, water dripping from his fingers and the side of his palm, and cupped Lyla's cheek, the tips of his fingers pushed her hair behind her ear and pulled her closer.
Their lips met softly, Lachlan gently sucking on Lyla's lower, drawing a soft groan from deep in her throat. Lyla splayed her hand out against his chest and stomach, feeling the heat radiating from his body even though it was submerged in cool water. Lachlan's fingers tangled firmly in her hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing across her lips until she opened them to meet it with her own. She could taste the whiskey he had drank with dinner masking something that was uniquely him. His teeth scraped over her lip and she felt her nipples harden, the soft fabric of her shift rubbing against them only adding to the stimulation until they were fairly aching for something more.
Her wish was granted when Lachlan released her wrist to palm her chest, kneading her breast as he kissed down her neck. Lyla's eyes slipped shut, her head tipping back to give him more access to her sensitive skin.
“Ye are...” Lachlan whispered against her throat, “th' most beautiful woman I've ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on.”
A shuddery sigh escaped Lyla's lips as Lachlan kissed the jut of her collarbone and dipped his tongue into the hollow. She dropped the cloth, letting her hand slide up his chest to scrape against the back of his neck, then into his hair, tangling in the golden strands. Lachlan pulled at the collar of her shift, exposing the swell of her breast, but paused before his lips touched her skin, looking up at her through his fine lashes, his eyes black.
“May I?” he asked, to which Lyla nodded, letting her own eyes close as Lachlan sucked tenderly on her breast.
His kisses trailed softly across her chest and then his lips closed around one of Lyla's aching nipples and she arched into him. He brushed his tongue across the puckered flesh then replaced his mouth with his hand, leaning out of the tub enough that he could kiss her firmly, his fingers pinching and his thumb rolling, each touch going straight down to her core. His hand fell from her hair to press against her thigh, bunching her shift up around her hips until he could grab it and lift.
“Am I meant to be the only one bare?” he asked.
Lyla swallowed and inhaled shakily. “No.”
Lachlan stood, slowly, water dripping down his naked form. He was glorious, Lyla thought, biting her lip as her eyes drank him in. He stepped from the tub and bent to slip one arm beneath her knees, the other supporting her back as he lifted her into his arms, the water beading on his body soaking through her clothes and into her skin. Lyla pulled his lips to hers.
Somehow they managed to make it to the bed without Lachlan tripping over his own feet or dropping her flat on her rear, at least not until they reached the mattress and he could safely let her fall. Her shift was hiked up around the tops of her thighs, leaving her legs bared to Lachlan's roaming hands and eyes.
“May I?” he asked again.
Lyla lifted her arms, wanting nothing more than the feel of his lips on hers again. He pushed her shift up her stomach then over her breasts. Her back arched up into the brief skim of his palms across her chest. He threw her shift somewhere across the room and guided her further back on the bed, his hands on her hips to help. He thumbed one breast gently, body stretched out along hers. He nuzzled her cheek.
“So beautiful,” he muttered into her ear before kissing just below it, right on the edge of her jaw.
She slid her hands into his hair again. She was allowed to want, she told herself again. He was her husband.
His hand slipped to the side, parting her legs, fingers finding her folds and slipping through, drawing a gasp. Lyla's grip on his hair tightened.
Lachlan chuckled softly. “Tell me something,” he asked softly as he stroked her. Lyla barely managed a nod. “How could ye offer yerself up th' way ye did? I could have been anyone.” He shook his head. “I'd nae have had the courage.”
“I couldnae let my home be burnt t' the ground,” Lyla said.
“And ye consider yer life t' be worth more than a sleepy wee town? Yer body?”
“It's my home,” Lyla said, looking up into his eyes. She could see a ring of clear blue around his pupils. Her heart pounded, desperate to be free.
“My affection for you,” Lachlan said slowly, carefully, “whate'er 'tis worth... 'tis genuine. I hope tha' ye can see so.”
Lyla nodded. Her hips were rolling, canting up gently into his touch. He leaned down to kiss her gently, his body a heavy, pleasant weight on top of hers. His fingers brushed up, over the little nub of pleasure where the ache between her thighs was centered. Lachlan drew her lip between his and sucked, his hips pressing flush against her thigh. Her stomach squirmed when she realized what she felt was his manhood rubbing against her. He would take her, unless she told him to stop.
But she did not want him to stop. That was the last thing in the world she wanted. What she did want, was...
“My wife,” Lachlan whispered. “My beautiful wife.”
“Take me,” she said into his ear. “I’m yours, as you are mine. So take me.”
Lachlan pressed his nose to hers. “Only ever with yer blessin,” he said in a gentle growl. “Aye?”
Lyla swallowed hard over the lump in her throat. “Aye,” she whispered. She nuzzled against him then turned her face into a firm kiss, letting her hands drift down his back and rest on his slender hips.
“I promise I'll never hurt ye,” he said, rolling his hips into her.
She spread her thighs automatically, her muscles tight but her body willing. He stroked her thigh, rough fingertips seeking to smooth her skin.
“Relax.”
Lyla breathed in deep, filling her lungs with as much air as she could, then exhaled slowly, feeling her heart rate settle.
Her eyes found his again in the almost darkness of the flickering firelight. He was waiting, still waiting, no matter how much she told him with her words that she was ready. For a moment she realized he might wait forever — and was that not love? Patience, she had been told, was love’s vestments, and so she reached up and cradled his hip. Her words would not suffice. She would show him she was ready.
His brow creased as she trailed her fingertips down his thigh, mimicking his own motions, until she gently laid her hand upon where, she guessed from the way he jumped, no woman had yet touched. She kissed his chest,
feeling his groan even before she heard it, urging him on with a squeeze and a gentle scrape of her nails.
She met his eyes again, unafraid, and pulled him close. Lachlan arranged himself over her and kissed her as he slowly thrust in, his teeth tugging gently at her lip. It seemed an eternity, those first moments together, bound close by the pounding of hearts and the rush of pleasure, the drip of bathwater as their soaked bodies stained the bedclothes. She couldn’t help but laugh at the thought, and he paused, an agonizing pause that made her shudder.
“Lyla?”
She shook her head. “Don’t stop. It’s — please. Don’t stop.”
He was warm, and strong, and in her arms, and he rolled his hips again, thrusting deep. She gasped, loudly, pressing her mouth against his shoulder as if to muffle the sounds, but her lips found his neck, and she kissed him again, moaning into him as he thrust over and over. Her nails found a taut muscle in his back, clinging, and he grunted again. The sound coiled in her stomach, hot and tight, and suddenly her heart was racing faster than before, her legs clinging to him, driving him deeper —
She almost missed the sound of his voice, murmuring something in her ear, so drowned out was his husky voice in the sounds of her climax, the desperate gasps of his name, almost a prayer on her lips. She crested, and fell, and crested again, and still he would not yield, until she met his eyes, and murmured his name to them — and then his lips were on hers, kissing a hungry, desperate kiss as his body surrendered and then it was all over.
They laid that way for a long while, his body blanketing hers, all the warmth she needed in the world. When at last he withdrew and she laid against his chest, she smiled into the skin, repeating back what he had said.
“You love me,” she said, almost coy. “And ye hardly know me.”
“Then I shall love ye,” he replied, voice thick with drowsiness, “a thousand times more when I do.”
Lyla’s fingers curled into the hair on his chest. She knew, then, it would be the same for her.
THE END
Bonus Story 19/40
Tumbleweed and Daggers
The beginning of summer on the edge of the desert was always challenging, Terry thought to herself looking at the line of people at the register. Fortunately her new hire, a girl named Charlene, was handling it like a pro. A small convoy of people was heading out into the desert to take pictures and drink water. As far as Terry could tell anyhow. She liked the desert, she lived in it, but traveling a long way to just look at it did not make any sense to her.
Not that she would complain. Tourists were her bread and butter and the more the merrier, she thought. Especially since she was the owner of Tumbleweed Grocery and Pies and the tourist business allowed her to hire someone to work the till and cook. With Charlene working the register and her sister Cheryl baking the pies, Terry could finally be a real owner and just watch things and oversee the operation. Most of the time.
She heard the familiar rumble of Harley Davidsons, and two motorcycles could be seen pulling off the lonely highway that passed the front of her place. She recognized the bikes and smiled slightly. She knew these two bikers, and despite their reputation and “occupations”, they were always good to her and her place. Not to mention good looking. Terry took a sip of her coffee and thought about a cigarette, watching the line of customers diminish down to just a few. Yep, she thought, she could slip out for a minute. She got up and went through the employee door.
“Give us all your money!” came a voice from the other side of the door she had just gone through.
“Holy shit dude, calm down…I’ll get you what you want,” Charlene said.
Terry went back and peeked through the little window and saw the last two people who had been in line facing the register, one of them was holding a gun. She also saw two people getting close to the front door from outside and smiled slightly. A noise behind her made her turn and it was Cheryl. Terry put a finger to her lips.
“Call the cops, we are being robbed,” she whispered softly before turning back to watch the drama unfolding in her restaurant. She prepared herself to go through the door in Charlene’s defense if she had too. Charlene was pressing the buttons on the register to get it to open without a purchase. Terry could see she was deliberately messing it up. She was a fearless woman, not to mention a beauty, so batting her eyes at the two was softening them up to her stalling.
“Come on, idiot. Give us the cash,” the bigger of the two growled.
“I am trying damn it! I’m nervous. Just a second and I’ll get it for you,” Charlene said as the two bikers came through the door behind the thieves. They immediately saw what was going on and the taller of the two laughed. The thieves spun around. The one with the gun backed away to stay out of their reach. Just a little further, Terry thought, both scared and excited by the dangerous activity. A little further and I’ve got you.
“You guys wanna get the hell out of here,” the tall biker told them.
“Yeah, this is one of our favorite stores. Leave now and we won’t leave you for the ambulances,” the shorter one said. Terry watched Charlene crouch down behind the counter so when the bigger thug looked to the counter, he couldn’t see her. It looked like she had disappeared.
“Well, you lost the bird in the hand boys. So why don’t you just leave now. Like my brother said, you don’t want to be left for the body bus,” the tall biker said.
The two thieves muttered curses to themselves that got worse as the sound of sirens could be heard. That was fast, Terry thought. Then the two wanna be robbers backed up further, putting them right in front of the swinging door she was watching them from. Perfect, she decided, making eye contact with the tall biker and he gave a slight nod. She stood back a step and then threw herself against the door.
It swung open like a shot and caught the big thug between the shoulder blades with the edge. This knocked him into his partner while he also dropped the gun. The two bikers stepped up and cold cocked them. One punch each had them groaning on the floor. Just like that, Terry thought, beginning to shake a little as it was over and she could recognize how dangerous it had been. She nodded to the two bikers, who stood over the crooks waiting for the cops. Then she went over to her friend and employee.
“You okay girl?” she asked Charlene. She looked up at Terry from where she crouched.
“It’s over?” she asked.
“Looks like it, the cops are here too,” she informed her. Charlene stood up and looked around.
“I guess I am alright then,” she answered as her sister Cheryl came out of the back. The cops ran in the front door with their guns drawn. Terry reflected that it was a weird way to start a day.
********
Terry waved to the cops as they pulled away with the wanna be robbers. She immediately pulled out her cigarette case from inside of her leather vest and lit one. She exhaled and felt herself relax. She was always brave until after anything dangerous happened. Then she had to fight to keep from falling apart. Now that the cops and bad guys were gone she could relax. She heard the squeak of the door and she was joined by Ajax Lowell, the bigger of the two bikers and the president of the motorcycle club called The Daggers. He was a muscular guy at six foot two with long brown hair and a mustache. His sleeveless denim jacket had patches from all over the west coast as well as a big one on the back of two crossed daggers pointing up, dripping blood.
“Those things will kill ya, you know?” he told her as he lit a thin cigar.
“If you say so Ajax. I am glad you and Red showed up when you did. I would have had to kick some ass,” she told him taking another drag off her smoke. He laughed.
“I would have thought you would let that girl Charlene do it. That is a tough chick,” he said with another chuckle.
“Keep that in mind if you or your boys ever start anything around here,” she told him with a grin. He returned it and she caught him eyeing her figure before he looked back out at the empty road. She was used to it. She got a lot
of looks.
Terry was about five foot ten inches tall with long blond hair with thick pink streaks in it. She was wearing a black vest over her white t-shirt and black leggings with a white mini-skirt. She loved how it accented her generous curves and flat belly. She could tell Ajax did too. Then again she never minded eyeing him, or his friend and second in command Red. He was equally as muscular with short red hair, although he was clean shaven and maybe five foot ten, her height. He joined them on the porch and leaned against the building. Now what? Terry wondered.
*****
“Well, that was fun,” Red said in his deep rumbling voice. Ajax and Terry laughed. She heard the rumbling of engines faintly and it began getting louder. Ajax and Red looked at each other.
“It couldn’t be, could it?” Red asked Ajax.
“The way this week has been going, probably. Damn we don’t need this right now,” he responded, then turned to Terry putting his hands on her shoulders.
“Go back inside and close up Miss Terry Tumbleweed. I think some trouble is about to catch up to my brother and I. Lock the door. These people won’t be going in, but it is best to be safe,” he told her and gave her a gentle push towards the door. She wanted to demand to know what was going on, but the look in his eyes and the hardness of his handsome features convinced her to do as he asked. She wasn’t sure but he looked like he was worried about her. Terry went into her store and locked the door behind her with a strange warm feeling in her gut.
“We are locking up ladies!” Terry shouted as she began closing the blinds on her store front. Cheryl and Charlene came out of the back.
“What’s up boss?” Charlene asked.
“Dagger trouble, I was advised we should close for a minute,” she answered closing the last blind as four bikes pulled into her dusty lot. Ajax and Red were sitting on their bikes now, waiting patiently. For what, Terry didn’t know.
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