by Reece Butler
“On ye knees and take me in yer mouth,” he ordered.
She fought the order, of course. He grinned like a berserker. The hand wrapped around her hair easily forced her onto her knees. They dug into the sand. Still holding tight, he guided her face toward his cock. While there was no doubt he was in control he wasn’t brutal, pushing more than forcing.
His scent, the harsh hand in her hair, his huge, strong body…all of it aroused her beyond anything before. She opened her mouth and took him deep, all the way to the back of her throat.
He responded with a deep groan. She smiled around him, pleased she had such an effect. She pulled back to take a breath. Before she could lick him to tease he released her hair and shoved her forward. She fell onto her palms. He stepped over her and dropped behind, knees either side of hers. One giant hand on her back held her in place as he set his cock on her pussy. She braced herself. One deep thrust and he filled her to the hilt.
His groan echoed hers.
Had he ever been this hard, or filled her so deeply? He pulled out, slow and sure. She gripped him with her inner muscles, hoping to keep him in her. Instead he grabbed her hips and, thrusting forward as he pulled her back, filled her so deep their thighs slapped.
She’d been dreaming of this when he woke her, and was already aroused. His hot flesh stroked her. She was so near she was almost…
Somerled bellowed and exploded, pounding hard and deep into her. It was too much, too fast, and ruined her orgasm. He sagged over her, gasping as she silently cursed.
“That takes the edge off a wee bit,” he said arrogantly, hauling air between each word. He pulled out and sat back on his heels. “Start over where ye left off,” he ordered.
She didn’t move, still out of breath from her running and the near release. A sharp swat on her arse made her squeal. She slapped her hand on it and turned around to glare.
“Get me hard again,” he ordered.
When she hesitated he grabbed her hair again and shoved her into place. She tasted herself when she licked him. She flicked her tongue, dancing it over the tip. He knelt, eyes closed, as she played with him. Would he notice if she used one hand on herself?
He pulled back. “Enough!” He jerked his head uphill. “Back to my plaid. I dinna wish to lie on sand.”
She walked in front of him, reveling in the freedom of being naked and safe, protected by her powerful warrior. She avoided bushes though her boots protected her feet and shins. When she wasn’t scrambling up the rocky hill, pointing her swollen, wet pussy at him, she let her hips and breasts sway enticingly. His low curses made her grin to herself.
She was ready for more but Somerled gestured to the basket beside his plaid. “Show me what Aggie sent.”
Grumbling, Meg unpacked meat rolls, ale, and a cloth wrapped around something heavy. When she unwrapped it she found a jar of honey and a small vial of sweet oil. She tried to hide the oil, but Somerled caught her. He chuckled and held out his hand.
“That answers that question,” he said. His cock jerked.
She pouted as she put the vial in his hand. That brought another chuckle. Who was this man who smiled and almost laughed, who took her like a stallion, or was it a bull? He’d always been confident but now he had that extra stillness. It was as if he wore a mantle of mastery around his shoulders rather than just the weight of his clan.
He had her feed him, making her kneel and offer him food with her arms outstretched and head down. He even had her put honey on her nipples. She had to stand still as he licked and sucked it off. She ground her teeth, pretending exasperation, though she found it arousing.
Somerled was her man, her laird, and no woman other than herself had ever served him.
He fed her as well, putting food on his palm and having her eat from his hand with her own clasped behind her back. It was the way she fed Fearchar and Shadow. When she’d said so in complaint he’d agreed, saying she was his wild kitten.
* * * *
When Somerled was full he told Meg to bring him the vial of sweet oil. She got that stubborn look, the one that meant his hand would soon be applied to her arse. But she was learning. This time she did as told when he held out his hand. She reluctantly set it in his palm, or perhaps she was feigning reluctance.
“Kneel before me,” he ordered. “On my plaid, arse up and head down.”
“You are enjoying this far too much, husband.”
“Comments such as that will get yer arse even redder, wife.”
“’Tis impossible,” she muttered, crawling into position.
“Aye?” He stood behind her, bending to inspect her arse. “Yer color’s faded. I may have to pink ye up again.”
Her pussy lips clenched, which he took to mean she liked the idea. The thought of his hand turning those wide arse cheeks of hers red made him hard. So did the thought of sinking his cock into her, mouth, pussy, and arse. He’d done the first two. Now for the last.
He started by playing with her arsehole, dribbling a bit of oil and working it into her with a finger. She might complain, but the way she wiggled and clamped down when he touched her said otherwise. He added another and heard a soft moan. He wondered if she could orgasm just from his fingers in her arse. Just in case, he would be careful so she didn’t.
This was to be punishment, not reward. She would enjoy it, but he would leave her frustrated. A third finger joined the others. He twisted them as she rocked back and forth. What was it about seeing her body open to take him in? He liked how her brown hole showed pink when he played with her, as if winking at him. He added a fourth finger, opening her further.
With his other hand he played near her clit. Near, not on. She twisted, but he kept his fingers free of her button. That she knelt to him like this, wanting him to play with her, made him feel powerful. Not because as a big man he could force her to do anything, but because she was an intelligent, strong-minded woman yet she chose to have him touch her, arouse her, and fill her.
He stretched her just enough for the head of his cock. He loved her pussy. Loved her mouth devouring him and seeing her white cheeks turn pink under his hand. But the view of her arsehole stretching as the purple tip of his cock opened her impossibly wide… Nothing made him harder. He bared his teeth at the feel of the blunt tip pushing past her tight ring.
She whimpered. He froze, and then realized it wasn’t pain, but frustration that had her complaining. “Ye wish to come?”
“Aye!”
“Nay.”
She groaned, making him grin. With the head of his cock in her an inch he had both hands free. He placed each palm on a red cheek and pulled them wide. She opened up around his cock, showing a pink ring. Her body, all of it, belonged to him. He sank an inch deeper.
“Who owns this body,” he demanded.
“What?”
“’Tis a simple question, wench. Who owns this body?” He reached under and caught her breast. He squeezed, and then rolled her nipple. “Whose body do I possess?”
“Oh,” she said as if just realizing what he meant. “I am yours.”
“I asked ye who owns this body?” He gave her more time to think while he sank another delectable inch.
“Laird MacDougal?”
“Are ye asking me?” he demanded. “Or are ye answering my question?”
“Answering your question.”
“Ye didna sound sure, so I’ll ask again. Who does this body belong to, to use however and whenever he chooses?”
“You.”
“Aye. So who does Lady Meg MacDougal belong to?”
“Laird Somerled MacDougal.”
“There is only one other man allowed to touch ye, one other cock allowed to fill ye. Arse, mouth, and pussy. Who is that?”
“Niall.”
“Aye. And when we get back to Duncladach you will do what with Niall?”
“Um, whatever he wishes?”
“Aye.” He rewarded her with a finger on her clit and a pinched nipple as he slowly sank into he
r. He would not last long in her tight heat. He added a finger to her clit, scissoring it.
“Som-er-led!”
“Aye, ye can come.”
He barely got the words out before her pussy clenched around him, his cock exploded, and his mind went blank.
Chapter Fourteen
“Satan’s tail!”
The bolt of lust hit Niall right at the top of his swing. He sideswiped the log with the axe, narrowly missing his foot. Somerled had found Meg and had not wasted any time proving he was her husband!
He carefully set down the axe. He couldn’t wrestle, or hammer, or do anything requiring concentration while his twin filled their Meg. He couldn’t tell what they were doing, but it had brought out the beast in his twin. He’d felt Somerled’s fear and worry for their woman, and his relief at finding her. He should have expected to feel arousal soon after. But not like this!
Oh, Lord, Somerled was coming, hard!
Niall gritted his teeth, forcing himself not to do the same. He could almost hear his twin’s bellow as he claimed her. And then suddenly the need was gone from his mind. He sagged, hoping the next time wouldn’t be as intense. For there would be a next time, and another, before the two returned to Duncladach. And when they did he would haul Meg to their chamber and make her scream again and again and again. Let Somerled try to work with that going on!
“Can I tell ye sommat that ye canna tell the laird?”
Niall wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm, glad for the timing of Zander’s interruption. The youngest shuffled his feet, barely making eye contact. Niall sighed. Both Zander and Artair had changed while they were gone. Being the older, wiser ones for a change had been good for them. Whatever he had to say must be dire.
“Depends what it is.”
“’Tis a surprise for Somerled. A good un!” He looked up, eager.
“Ye ken that our laird’s nay too fond of surprises.” Nor was Niall, not when it meant an instantly hard cock with no warning.
“Aye, but this will make him happy.” His face fell. “If he finds the Lady Meg and brings her back with him.”
“Oh, he’s found her,” said Niall dryly. “And they are very happy to see each other.”
“Ah, ye can feel yer twin with Meg?” Zander grinned at Niall’s grimace.
“Lady MacDougal will be returning with Somerled. She planned this, to get him to follow her.”
“’Twas a trick she played as she was angry he didna visit her?”
“Nay.” Niall moved the axe over to the wood piled to be chopped. “Well, aye, but ’twas more. She wished to help him get beyond his fear and walk past the village. He had to do it to find her.”
Zander might be only two and twenty, but he’d watched his older brothers plan and plot many things. His eyes flicked around as he thought. He nodded. “Aye, ’twas the only way.”
“What’s this surprise?”
“Sir Tearlach said we was to tell ye and Lady Meg together. But she’s gone, and—”
“Just tell me, and I can pass it on to her.” After he thoroughly bedded her.
“If the Earl of Caithness will allow them leave to visit, James and Cormac may come to the Gathering. Duff and Malcolm will stop by Gillis and Angus, then travel together.” Zander stopped to take a breath, having blurted it all at once. “Fiona will come along, with wee Morag. Mayhaps the other wives as well.”
His brothers were coming home for the Gathering? Thoughts of Meg evaporated. He’d thought he’d never see Cormac and James, again, or Malcolm and Duff. It would be beyond belief to have all sixteen of them together for the first Gathering in generations. Even twelve would be more than he or Somerled expected.
“’Tis great news! We should tell the laird.”
Zander flinched. “Well, the surprise isna that the brothers are coming. ’Tis how they are gettin’ here and who else will be visitin’.”
“’Tis two hundred miles and more from Keiss Castle. There’s but one way to get here in time and that’s by…” Niall paused. “Is Laird Fraser sending his ship?”
“Well, he isna sending it.”
Niall cocked his head. “Are ye saying Laird Fraser is collecting our brothers and bringing them here?”
Zander hesitated a moment before nodding.
“He will be welcome. He’s been here before, and kens us all. He might bring more wine,” he added, hoping to lighten Zander’s frown.
“Sir Tearlach and Rory think Somerled will say the laird be wishin’ us to do sommat for him in return, that we’d owe him for it. If our laird kenned it afore, he’d get all fashed. And since he’s just found Lady Meg…”
Niall blew out his breath. He set his fists on his hips and dropped his head to think. He did it out loud, as he was used to doing with Somerled.
“Laird Fraser has been a good friend of Clan MacDougal, starting with Fiona marrying Angus and Gillis. He gave them Andrath Tower, and helped Tearlach and Rory with the king at Stirling Castle. He’s given us gifts, though not always by choice.” Niall shared a grin with Zander about the wine they’d lifted from Fraser’s ship the first time the man had docked in Duncladach Bay.
“He brought us wee Fiona to visit, along with her dowry of sheep and gold,” said Zander.
“We couldna have gotten Meg’s bed and bathing tub o’er the hills from Sterling without his help,” said Niall. “He and Lady Janet stayed for a few days while ye were at Calltuin. Meg is very grateful.”
He was also grateful for the giant bed, and the bathing tub. That reminded him to have water put on to heat before Meg returned. He wished to bathe her before taking her to bed. And after, as well.
“Sir Tearlach said Laird Fraser is kin so should be welcome to our Gathering,” said Zander. “Not to kneel, but to witness it and show support. If the great Laird Fraser attends he and his lady wife will send word to many that King James married Lady Margaret Campbell of Glen Lyon to Laird MacDougal to end the feud. That will stop the Earl of Argyll and his Campbell kin from openly attacking.”
“Aye. They wouldna disobey the king.” Niall expected Zander to dash away after giving his message. Instead, he looked worse. “There’s more?”
“Herald Cam said Laird Fraser may invite a few guests onto his ship, and Somerled may get a wee bit fashed about ’em.”
“Others?”
Zander inhaled so deeply Niall braced himself for a barrage of words.
“Cam said if Malcolm and Duff bring Kiera and their twin babes, then Laird MacKenzie may wish to come as well. He’s not been off MacKenzie land but to fight, and he missed his chance to attack Ross of Balnagowan. He’s a mite restless and will use the Gathering as an excuse to have his heir take charge.”
Niall blinked at that. “Lairds Fraser and MacKenzie, here?”
“And Laird Lochiel Cameron, mayhaps. Angus and Gillis fostered with him as he’s kin, and he had Angus marry Fiona afore sending them to Laird Fraser…”
Niall took a drink of ale as he thought. Fraser was the fourth Lord Lovat, a powerful man. Fraser and Cameron land straddled one of the few places where it was possible to walk across the great rift splitting the Highlands in two. With MacKenzie, the three clans controlled much of the Highlands not taken by Campbells, MacDonalds, or Clan Chattan. All three lairds were powerful men in their own right, and were owed a debt by Clan MacDougal.
“They will need to be entertained,” said Niall. “Somerled would be proud of them wishing to come, but nay happy about what it means.”
“The old herald at Calltuin, Sir Parlan, said we should have wrestling, knife-throwing, battles with wasters and blades, shinty and archery, as well as hunting and such. And a chess tournament.”
“Meg may wish to play,” said Niall, grimacing.
Zander’s ears and cheeks reddened. “Herald Cam said if Alana Sinclair and Kiera MacKenzie are allowed to visit, and play, they may win.”
“Herald Cam hasna played chess with Meg. I’ve lost to her, as has Somerled.
<
br /> “Aye, but the other men willna forget the board when Meg tugs on her bodice and arches her back.”
Niall frowned. “Meg does that?”
“Aye, and more,” replied Zander. “Torquil said yer eyes cross when she sighs, leans forward, and jiggles her tits at ye.”
He blinked, thinking back. Meg had done those things, and he hadn’t noticed it was on purpose. “That baggage!” He met Zander’s grin. “I’ll have to play without my shirt and flex my muscles at her.”
“Aggie said ye could save yer berry tart and keep it aside the board. She’d keep her eyes on that most like, hopin’ ye’d give it to her.”
“Meg does like her sweets.”
His grin faded as the implications of such a visit set in. Where would such important men sleep? What did they expect to eat? Would they demand things clan MacDougal didn’t have? What of the cost? He groaned.
“Ye ken why we canna tell the laird?” asked Zander morosely.
“Did ye tell the others?”
Zander ducked his head, nodding. “We drew lots as to who was to tell ye. I lost. Somerled’s been like a caged lion since we brought Hamish.”
“He’ll be better once Meg’s back.” Back in their bed getting thoroughly plowed, and not just by Somerled. “The Gathering is set for Lammas and if the wind is good they’ll come fast. We have but a few sennights.” He pushed all thoughts of Meg out of his head. “We have to speak of this to the clan now, and that it must be a secret to our laird. Tell Aggie to gather some food. We’ll go to the village for the evening meal. Somerled will be gone this night, but will be back on the morrow.”
“How will we keep him from kenning it?”
“He’ll be busy working, and Meg will distract him.”
Zander grinned. “Lady Isabel does that with Sir Tearlach when he gets too big for his britches. She gives him this look, turns her back on him, and swishes her hips when she walks away. He follows her like a stallion sniffing after a mare.”
Niall made a mental note to make sure he didn’t act that way, though it was likely futile. The way he felt about Meg she’d only have to wink and he’d have her skirts up, his cock plowing between her thighs. His cock hardened, too hard for a random thought of Meg. Somerled was at it again! While the others gathered what was needed he would take a cold swim in the sea.
