by Reece Butler
His groan echoed off the stone walls. “Lass, a foul dungeon pit is not the place for sweet words and loving.”
Disappointment hit her in the belly. “Ah. Ye dinna want such as me.” She wiped her dirty face with her forearm. “I am neither maid nor lad, fish nor fowl, and am wanted by none.”
His groan filled the stone chamber. “Och, lassie, ye are wanted. If ye be speakin’ true, that ye wish a big hulk of a man to show ye pleasure, I will do so, and gladly.”
“We have hours afore the Campbells drink themselves senseless, and we can escape. I can think of naught better to do while we wait.”
Blood rushed past her ears so loudly she barely heard his footsteps. A warm body touched her front. He pressed her face to his chest, his arms around her in a hug. Tears filled her eyes. She was so rarely touched, and then it was with a burst of pain. This man gently rubbed his hand up and down her back, soothing her as if she were a skittish colt.
“Are ye sure, wee Fiona? Once yer maidenhead is gone ye may not find a husband to care for ye. I’ll be gentle, but it will hurt the first time—”
“Nay,” she said, breaking in before he said more. “A healer woman said my riding astride would destroy my maidenhead, and any chance to prove my virginity.”
His hand slowed for a moment, then went back to soothing her. Would he accept her word?
“Kenning that will make it easier for both of us,” he murmured. “Have ye been kissed afore?”
She rocked her forehead against his chest, unable to speak a denial. She was one and twenty. If her father had accepted her she would’ve been married at fifteen and already have several children at her skirts. She would not have been married to someone important, being a bastard and all, but she might still have had a home of her own.
If she lay with this man and got with child would he marry her and accept the babe? No, she would not be with him long enough to know if his seed had taken hold in her womb. He said he’d take her wherever she wished to go, then release her. If Laird Cameron didn’t want her, the Fraser lands weren’t that far. She’d heard her father’s armsmen complain Fraser and Cameron did not allow serving women to be abused. She would be happy to live as a servant in such a place. Working long hours and sleeping in the kitchen would be a far better life than the one she’d known. She might even make friends.
“Did none have a care for ye, Fiona?”
“There was a tomcat who’d purr and rub his jaw against mine when I fed him scraps. Other than that, I havena been touched. Other than with a slap or a cuff, or when training,” she added.
“Och, lassie,” he murmured. “‘Tis glad I am to be the one awakening yer body.”
His deep voice rumbled through his chest to hers. He stepped back, put a finger under her chin, and raised it. Lips, framed by a mustache and beard, lightly brushed her own. She felt a thrill, gone too soon.
“I dinna wish to kiss yer mouth as I stink from this foul pit,” he said.
“Oh,” she replied, disappointed. “What will ye do, then?”
“If ye allow it, ye have other parts to kiss.”
His hand dropped from her chin to her breast. He rubbed lightly. She was not used to being touched, even by herself. The binding deadened sensation so much she had not realized how intense a finger brushing against her nipple could be. She found herself arching, pressing her breast into his palm.
“Ye like that, aye?” he murmured. “Would ye like my lips there?”
Without waiting for her reply he dropped his head. His heat, even through her shirt, made her moan. She pulled back.
“Too much, too fast?” he asked.
“Nay,” she replied, pulling at her laces. “I want yer mouth on me.” She pulled her shirt over her head.
“Will ye nay let me lead ye?”
She frowned in the dark. “Dinna ye wish to touch my skin?”
“Aye, lass, I do. Very much.” The breath he exhaled sounded rough, but then so did hers. “I’ll nay lie ye on this floor. Would ye ride my cock?”
She blinked, having to think about what he meant. A man’s cock stood out from his body.
“Ye mean for me to sit on yer mast, as if ye were a ship? Ye’ll nay push me against a wall and plow into me?”
“Aye, like a ship. Mayhaps we can try a wall anon. One without rings to chain a man to.”
She heard a smile in his words. She found herself smiling back. That he spoke of there being another time give her hope.
“Take my hand, lass, and I’ll lead ye to the pallet.”
She reached out, finding hard calluses and warm fingers. He suddenly swooped her into his arms. She squeaked, wrapping her arms around his neck to help support her. It brought her naked breasts close to his face. He lifted her higher, bringing her breast to his mouth. One touch of his moist lips and she knew she’d been right to remove her shirt. He nibbled and nipped, making her gasp. After a moment he lowered her, taking his mouth off her breast far too soon. The sudden chill excited her even more.
“Ye taste sweeter than the ripest fruit,” he said, his voice gruff. “Stand while I make us a wee bed.”
There was a tension in her that could not be denied. Would she have reacted this way to any man who touched her? No, for none had spoken to her as if she mattered. She had yet to see his face, yet his touch made her wild with desire. She quickly stripped off her clothes. The floor was cold and damp, yet she burned from the inside out.
“Are ye sure lass?” he asked once more.
“I’ve ne’er felt this way afore. If I must die, or worse, at least I will have known pleasure.”
“MacDougals are known for making lassies moan with pleasure.”
“Prove it,” she demanded, unable to hide the need in her voice.
* * * *
If this was a dream, Gillis did not want to wake. The cold stone under his knees as he laid out his folded plaid proved it was real. A virgin who’d been raised as a lad had demanded he prove his prowess as a lover. He’d never met, or known of, a female like her. An hour ago he’d been dozing, trying to figure out how to escape this noxious pit. He’d now tasted plump breasts topped by a thick nipple and would soon have a woman riding his cock, a woman he’d never seen but would die to protect.
He settled on his back, touching his cock to reassure himself it was able to perform. It had been years since anything other than his hand had grasped it. As she was an innocent it was best she couldn’t see his massive erection as it might frighten her off. He had to show her the wonders of a woman’s body. If they couldn’t both escape, he would think of her while they tortured him, knowing she would live. Angus would care for her in his absence. It would have to be enough.
That was for later. All his concentration went toward the rustle of clothing a few feet away. The thought of her stripping sent a surge of even greater lust through him. He barely held back a snort of surprise and delight at her eagerness. Raised as a lad she’d not been taught that ladies merely tolerated a husband’s touch. And thank God for that!
“What do I do?”
“Stand over me,” he said, “then sit yerself down on my belly.”
“Yer belly? Nay your cock?”
He chuckled at her eagerness. “Ye need to be eased into this, lass. ‘Twill bring more pleasure for both of us if we discover each other first.”
“Like ye did my breasts?”
“Aye.”
She moved quickly. Luckily he tightened his belly muscles before her arse smacked down on it. Her scent flowed to his nose, suggesting she was already aroused. He held back from touching her yet. His hands had been clean while attempting to tickle trout for his dinner just before he’d been captured. That was days ago. He’d spent hours scrabbling around in the filth at his feet, trying to find a way out.
He could not touch her pussy with a dirty finger. The Campbells had given him little water, and that none too clean. It was all he’d had, so he’d drank it. That left only one way to do what needed being done. He wip
ed his middle finger on his plaid as best he could, then put it into his mouth. As expected, it tasted of dungeon filth. He’d not kiss her lips now, neither north nor south. He would, however, use his clean finger to make her erupt.
She wriggled on his belly, driving him wild until he was satisfied his finger was as clean as it was going to get. He curled the others back, holding them with his thumb. Palm up, he slid his finger between his belly and her pussy. She was already wet, gloriously so. His cock throbbed in eagerness. He reached out with his other hand and found her ribs. He stopped before he reached her nipple. He wanted to taste her clean flesh.
“Lean forward, so my lips can suckle your breast,” he said.
He opened his right hand, keeping his finger inside her. When she rolled forward her clit should press against his palm. She shifted, and her pubic bone rubbed against his. Her sudden gasp suggested he’d guessed right. He guided her nipple to his mouth. Her moans of pleasure as he nipped, laved, and suckled filled the dungeon. Her ass cheeks rubbed against his cock as she moved. His cock throbbed at the sweet torture.
If they survived, and she agreed to stay with them, he would train her to enjoy him filling that hole as well. Angus would help, of course. If she was this eager to experience pleasure though they be in the bottom of a dungeon pit, she might welcome the attentions of both of them. To encourage that, he'd better do a damn fine job with this.
She was panting and gasping when he had her lean back and set her hands on his thighs, knees apart. It opened her, releasing a burst of enticing aroma. His cock jerked against her arse in response. If they got out, once they were safe he would quickly wash himself and then take his time bathing her. Then he’d use his tongue on that sweet puss until she was screaming.
With her legs wide he had space to fit his big hand between her thighs and work his clean finger in her pussy. She groaned and lifted her arse a few inches, pressing into his hand. There was no maidenhead to form a barrier, just tight, moist, heat. He leisurely explored, finding and memorizing a few spots that made her gasp and tremble. Her pleasure intensified his, and he fought to stop from coming. When he could take it no longer he had her lift herself up.
“Touch my cock and guide yerself onto me.”
Her small hand could not fully surround him. She had a good grip, one he wished to put to use another time. He hissed, inhaling between gritted teeth as she slowly sank her pussy over him. Those tight, hot walls clenched him better than any fist. It was torture, of the best type.
“Oh my,” she said, panting. “If I’d known ‘twas this good, I’d not have waited.” He couldn’t reply with his jaw clenched in concentration. “Nay,” she added, “My father’s guards would have thrown me on the ground or against a wall and rutted, giving no pleasure, just taking their own. This is…so…good.”
She sighed and sank another few inches. He wasn’t sure a maid of her size could take him her first time. He was not going to be a martyr and tell her to stop, though. She would do as she chose. And whatever she chose was better than anything he’d felt before.
Finally she was fully impaled, her hot bottom resting on him. He held back a shout of pride that he hadn’t yet come. His celebration was too soon. She lifted herself up and began the slow slide down again. He wouldn’t release until she reached her peak!
To quicken the process he used his knuckles to squeeze her nipple, figuring at least they had not come in direct contact with the floor. He touched his clean finger to her clit, just a light brushing. She choked, halting for a moment before riding him harder.
She was close, or at least she seemed so from her breathing and frantic movements. He put his finger directly on her clit and wiggled it. She squeaked, a high-pitched sound he could get used to very easily. She bucked against him as she peaked, her pussy clenching his cock. He gripped her hips and plowed up into her.
“Mine!”
She clenched him again, crying out his name as his seed exploded into her. Again and again he bucked, her pussy clenched tight, milking him. Far too soon, Fiona slumped on his heaving chest, her breathing rasping as loud as his. He put his arms around her back. She trembled, so he held her as snug as he could as they both fought to breathe, giving her what strength he had left.
Had she heard what he’d bellowed? It had erupted without thought, as had his seed. After the example of his father they’d all sworn to be careful when bedding a woman, pulling out in time. It had been impossible with Fiona. Nor was it important. Once they were free she would either marry him, or Angus. Which brother jumped the broom wasn’t important as they would share her, both the caring and the bedding. He wanted her at his side as the three of them raised their children. It didn’t matter if she was ugly as sin. He craved the wild, intelligent, brave woman within.
Her breathing slowed, as did his. He was about to speak when he heard soft, snuffling snores. Had he worn her out? Or had she been so exhausted that the release of tension had knocked her out? It didn’t matter. That she trusted him enough to take him into her body, and then sleep on him like a bairn, meant she belonged to him.
Chapter Three
Fiona pushed back her embarrassment of having fallen asleep on Gillis’s chest after taking what she wanted from him. She’d slept well, and deeply. So had he, and they’d lost track of time. They had to get out now. They didn’t know how long it would take to escape, or when morning light would bring their captors.
What if her silk binding rope was too short? What if she couldn’t find a place to tie one end so Gillis could climb out? What if the hall was full of sober men? No matter. She would find a way. She was not going to leave him behind. She not only wanted more pleasure, she wanted his kindness, his warmth, and the deep chuckles that made her clench her pussy in need. She also wanted the feeling of protection and caring that rose from his giant body when she’d lain on him, his arms around her.
She reached up to climb Gillis, making her breasts shift in her shirt. She stopped, startled by the arousing fire that flashed through her nipples to her pussy. She’d just been pleasured in a way she hadn’t believed existed, yet her body wanted more? She would have to ignore the arousing sensation until they were safe. And then she’d have his hands, and mouth, all over her.
With his help she climbed to his shoulders. He grunted when her boot dragged across his ribs. She murmured an apology. She’d forgotten he would have been beaten by the Campbells. She would show him a real apology later, when they were safe. She would explore his body in the light, looking for bruises and scratches. Then she’d kiss them better.
His hands slid up her calves to clasp her thighs to hold her steady. She choked at the rush of white-hot need. Concentrate! They had to escape the castle, race to Cameron land, and find a safe place before they could touch each other again. And there would be an again. And another and another!
Her scrabbling fingers found the rough square opening. Another grunt and Gillis boosted her up and out. She lay on the stone for a moment, gulping fresh air. Her dizziness seemed suddenly worse. She’d been coming down with the ague for days, refusing to give in to it. Now was not the time to collapse.
“Are ye fine, lass? Ye sound winded.”
He spoke kindly rather than demanding she immediately lower the rope so he could escape. She could walk away and leave him there. Could, but never would. She felt around until her fingers found what they needed.
“A moment.” She kept her voice low. If there was a guard he would be listening for them. She tied her silk rope to the bolt and tossed it down.
“Can ye reach?”
Instead of answering, he climbed up. It took a lot of grunting to do so. Once free, he also lay gasping on the floor. She heard movements, then a scraping sound. She realized he was covering the hole so they would not fall in. There was silence for a moment, then he cursed softly.
“I was nay conscious when they hauled me here,” he said. “Do ye ken the way out?”
She turned her head, listening carefully. The d
istant rumble of deep voices matched the direction of a faint gleam of light.
“Follow the voices,” she replied. She was rewarded with a quiet chuckle. She smiled to herself as something bubbled up in her. She realized it must be akin to happiness. Though unfamiliar, it was very welcome.
Gillis searched for his pack and weapons, letting out a grunt of approval when he found them. She told him she had nothing other than the clothes she wore as they’d taken her dirk from her boot when she was captured.
“Angus and I will take ye where’re ye wish to go after Darach Cameron’s wedding.”
He’d told her of the event, as it was why they’d left MacDougal lands and traveled so far northeast. Laird Somerled MacDougal had ordered them to attend as they’d been fostered by Laird Cameron. Somerled wished to strengthen ties to such a strong clan.
Now that she was free of her father and his men she would not have to guard every word and expression, or hide in corners so she was not noticed. Though she dressed as a lad, there were no secrets in a castle. All knew she was the laird’s bastard daughter. They also knew if they touched her they would die, painfully. That was the only thing that had saved her. As orders would be forgotten when lust hit she was always careful to disappear when the men drank. She hoped the Campbells were so far into their cups that they couldn’t see, much less stagger.
“Thank ye,” she replied. “I’ve heard of the Camerons, as their clan shares a border.”
Would the Cameron servants know about her birth? She’d heard whispers that her mother, who’d died a few weeks after her birth, resembled her. She’d been a maid to the laird’s first wife, a Fraser, and had accompanied her. When the laird’s wife died in childbirth Menzies had taken the pretty maid to his bed. If her father was then as he was now Fiona’s mother would not have been given a choice. Her father’s men were the same, taking whatever female they wished. She would not miss the high-pitched screams that destroyed her sleep too many nights.
