by Siobhan Muir
“I don’t want to get it over with, Isabelle.” He pushed a strand of auburn hair behind her ear and turned her head to meet his gaze. “This might be a business transaction to you, but it still should be pleasant. If you find it too distasteful, we can stop.”
“Nay, not distasteful.” She turned and knelt between his knees, her arms resting on his thighs. “Just strange and…and I don’t know what to do. I feel useless.” She dropped her chin. “I haven’t learned the art of being with a man—not that I wished to. Oh bother!” She sat back on her heels and wrapped her arms around her waist, pushing those lovely breasts up until he wanted to shove his cock between their full embrace.
“What do you wish to do, Isabelle?”
“Lose my virginity, o’ course.”
“But?” Jonarrion reached out to tip her chin up so he could meet her eyes. “What else?”
“How do you know there’s aught else?”
He drew his thumb across her full lower lip, and his cock twitched at her gasp. “Because you strike me as a woman who takes pride in your abilities to accomplish your tasks. What more do you wish to accomplish?”
Isabelle sighed and smoothed the fabric of her skirt. “I wish I knew how to pleasure you.”
Exquisite joy and pleasure surged through his chest at her courage. Done. “Ah, my sweet Belle, then you have succeeded already.”
* * * *
Amusement and satisfaction filled Jon’s voice, and Isabelle’s confidence rose a little. He looked at her with those lupine-blue eyes, and she wanted to melt into them, but she didn’t want to take liberties where she shouldn’t. Besides, she wanted more of those soft kisses across her shoulders. Who knew her back could be so sensitive?
“Come. Let’s slow down a little, and I shall show you ways of giving me pleasure so I may return the favor.” He drew her to her feet and turned to rearrange the pillows on the bed against the headboard. She tried not to enjoy the lovely presentation of his arse in his kilt, but she couldn’t turn her eyes away.
When he turned back, he caught her looking, and a calculating smile spread across his face. “Shall I take off my kilt so you can take my measure?”
Excitement warred with chagrin. “Nay. Forgive me for staring.”
“Oh, no, I like that you’re staring. Perhaps my shirt, then?”
The idea of Jon without his shirt tightened her nipples and sent excitement straight to her woman’s place between her legs. “You like me staring at you like a prize stallion at the county faire?”
He chuckled, sliding his hands up her arms and skimming the sides of her breasts with his thumbs. “That depends, Belle.” He leaned close, brushing his lips against her shoulder again. “Are you staring because I’m a hideous sideshow creature? Or because I catch your fancy?”
Holy Mother Mary, his touches and words sparked more turmoil in her belly, and her womb clenched in sweet anticipation.
“Oh no, you’re quite beautiful.” She’d never heard her voice so breathy, but her words caught up with her mind, and she bit her lip. “Can men be beautiful?”
“If that’s the way you see me, then yes, I can.” He kissed the edge of her jaw, and she swore she saw stars. “Come.” He pulled back, and disappointment followed in his wake. “Help me take off my shirt.”
Isabelle had never wanted to undress someone so much, and his request made her woman’s place weep with hot juices. She frowned as she slowly unlaced the leather ties holding his jerkin to his torso. If his manly bits had a name, surely her woman’s place did as well.
“What makes you frown, sweet Belle?” Jonarrion rubbed a light finger over her brow as he whispered his question in her ear. She shivered and tried to find her voice buried beneath her arousal.
“I just wondered what you might call my…woman’s place.” She grimaced at her hesitancy in speaking of such things. Surely men spoke of them all the time.
“Here?” Jon’s broad hand settled on her breast, branding it with its heat. “Or here?” His other hand burrowed into her skirt, skimming the mound of flesh between her legs.
Isabelle gasped at the pleasure curling around her spine and pressed her mound against his hand. “There, Jon. Oh, God, right there.”
He grinned and rubbed his hand in small circles, sending spikes of pleasure straight through her. She clutched his shirt and ground her hips helplessly against the pressure, riding out the heavenly sensations.
“This place, Belle, is called the ‘pussy,’ or ‘Venus mound.’ Or more brazen ‘quim.’” His murmured words only increased her bliss. “This is where I will tuck my cock or my fingers or my tongue.” Oh, the delicious shocks his words gave her. “You will enjoy it, as I will.”
“Oh, God, yes.”
“Let us remove these hindering clothes and continue our exploration.” Jon took his hand away, and Isabelle swallowed her disappointment, but he grasped the tapes of her skirt and pulled, the wool pooling around her ankles. He inhaled deeply, a look of delight suffusing his face. “Ah, Belle, I can smell your woman’s musk, and it’s delightful. I want to lap up all your sweet juices.”
“L–lap?” She opened her eyes—when had she closed them?—and stared dumbly as he shucked his jerkin and shirt. “Sweet Mother Mary.”
Great slabs of muscle covered his chest and belly in rippled glory. The light caressed the hard planes, leaving enticing shadows, and she fought the urge to drag her tongue along the edges to see how they tasted. A light dusting of hair covered his chest then arrowed down in a darker line to disappear into his kilt. She wanted to follow the trail and see where it led. Would he be as large as the bulge there suggested?
“What happened here?” She reached out and traced old scars marking his sides, and he shivered with each light touch. “And here?” An ink drawing of a dragon had been etched into the skin of his left arm near the shoulder.
He twitched and gasped a little as she trailed her fingers over his skin, and his cock jerked against his kilt. She paused, curiously reluctant to withdraw her hand.
“Have I hurt you? Do the scars still pain you?”
“Nay, it’s all right, lassie.” His voice sounded as if he’d chewed on gravel. “You’re free to touch me.”
She traced the lines in the ink drawing. “What does this mean?”
He sighed and covered her hand with his. “It is a reminder to me to destroy all evil in the path of my travels. It means strength, honor, protection, and sorrow.”
“A dragon means those things where you are from?” She frowned. Perhaps he found her request to rid herself of her virginity a simple lark. The dragon she’d seen represented evil at its worst.
“Aye.” He caressed her head with his free hand. “My family crest is a great dragon. See how it is curled up upon itself? It means all actions are connected, and one event triggers others and affects them all.”
The drawing stamped a perfect circle on his skin and rippled each time he moved his arm. The Celtic dragon blowing flames curled upon itself in a complex design, the long tail weaving around the body in an intricate knot. The artist had drawn tears dripping from the dragon’s one eye, but the rest of the design showed fierce strength and determination.
“Why is the dragon crying?”
He stilled her hand and met her gaze, smiling sadly. He smiled sadly. “Because I caused the death of my sister-by-law and her unborn babe.”
Isabelle’s breath caught in her throat, and she pressed a soft kiss against his chest before she could think. “I’m so sorry, Jon. Is that why you’re so far from home?”
“Aye.” His voice sounded strangled, and she looked back up at him in concern.
“Can you tell me what happened?” She shook her head. “Forgive me, Jon. ’Tis none of my business, just a troublesome curiosity. I’m sorry.”
“’Tis all right, Isabelle. ‘Twas long ago.” He shrugged, but she suspected it still bothered him
The pain in his voice made her grasp his face gently between her hands and rise on
her toes to kiss his lush lips. He inhaled sharply, but his grip on her shoulders tightened, and he dragged her closer to him, angling his head to avoid her nose. His mouth opened, and his tongue teased her lips, sending illicit pleasure shooting straight to her pussy. She leaned in closer and opened her own mouth to receive his probing tongue.
The hot, slick texture shocked her with its deliciousness, and she suckled on it for a moment. Jon groaned and deepened the kiss, his hands sliding down to grasp her arse. He jerked her hips closer and ground his hard cock against her mound as his tongue tangled with hers. Pleasure of so many different kinds flooded through her, and she could barely keep track of which one felt best.
Suddenly, he stiffened and pushed her back to arm’s length, his breath coming in great heaves. She felt the flush creep up her face, and chagrin ate at her for her wantonness.
“I’m sorry,” Isabelle whispered, still feeling his lips against hers. “I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t ken what came over me.”
“Nay, nay, don’t apologize, sweet Belle.” Jon shook his head and smiled ruefully. “Tonight is about you, my bonny lassie. But if we continued what we were doing, I’d be done before we’d even started.”
“Oh?” She dropped her gaze to his twitching bulge and licked her lips. What would it be like to touch him there?
“Oh, sweet Goddess, you’ll be the death of me yet, woman.” Jon groaned and swooped in for another blistering kiss.
Glorious agony tightened her nipples until she needed to rub them to relieve the sensation. She pressed her breasts against his chest and writhed, hoping to ease the delicious ache. Jon moaned as he grasped the cloth of her chemise and gathered it in his fists, exposing her arse to the cool room.
Isabelle whimpered as his tongue tangled with hers, sliding, caressing, and tickling her mouth until she couldn’t breathe through the pleasure. She only wanted more. More of his hands on her, more of his tongue on her, more of everything.
When they broke apart the second time, her pussy ached, and Jon’s eyes blazed with lustful intent. Before she’d met him, such a look would have frightened her, but his expression only sent more excitement flooding her body and she clenched her legs together to allay the pressure building there.
“This needs to be off, now.” His voice was no more than a growl, and Isabelle shivered with delight at its sound as he pulled her chemise over her head.
“Hellwinds, you’re so beautiful.” Jon paused long enough to sweep her body with his cerulean gaze before he stepped up to her and took one turgid nipple into his mouth.
Searing heat hit her awareness just before the tickling pleasure tightened her peak, and Isabelle grasped his shoulders to hold herself steady. Holy Mother Mary, how can his mouth feel so divine? She arched her back as he pinched the neglected nipple between his fingers and suckled hard, blistering pleasure flooding her pussy with juices.
He sat down hard on the bed, and she followed him, grinding her wet core against his rough thigh. Oh sweet mercy, the sensations of his leg hairs on her pussy lips completely derailed any focus she had, and she keened a low wail. More, more, more. She rode his thigh, wanting and needing, something undefined until now. Must have more.
Jon pulled back from her breast and smiled with lascivious intent. Isabelle answered him with a moan and a harder grind on his leg.
“That’s it, sweet Belle. Rub your pussy on my thigh.” He steadied her hips with his hands, but she still couldn’t find the right movements to relieve the pressure.
“Can’t find it. Need more.” She squeezed her eyes tight and writhed harder.
“Perhaps this would help.” Jon pressed his hand against her mound and strummed something hard. Pure, fiery pleasure slammed through her and shot her into bliss, streaking across the starfield she saw behind her eyelids.
“Yes, Jon, yes. Yes, yes!”
Isabelle cascaded through billowing clouds of delight until she came to a soft rest against Jon’s chest, panting as if she’d run to the Loch and back. “Oooohh.”
A warm chuckle beneath her ear made her sit up slowly and look into Jon’s lupine-blue eyes. Arousal still glowed in their jeweled depths, and she blushed to realize she’d found her pleasure without him. Well, not completely without. He lifted his hand from between her legs and licked the juices off his fingers with a saucy grin.
“You’re far sweeter and responsive than I ever thought you’d be, Belle.”
“You mean ‘wanton.’” She tried to hide her face from him, but he forced her chin up.
“Nay, responsive. There’s nothing to be ashamed of here. Every woman should enjoy this intimacy as much as you did.” He brushed her lips with a chaste kiss. “You’re beautiful when you come.”
“Thank you.” She tried to scoot off his lap, but he clamped his hand to her hip to hold her still. “Is that it, then? Have you taken my innocence?”
A rumbling growl masquerading as a chuckle sparked another flush of pleasure. “Oh, my sweet little virgin, I haven’t even begun to take your innocence.” He rolled her over his side onto the bed and came down on top of her, his head level with her breasts. “We’ve simply warmed you up and primed you for more. But I intend to make certain your education in the art of pleasure is complete before tomorrow morning.”
Boldness surged from some wanton portion of her, and she raised one eyebrow. “Are you, now? And how will you do that?”
He released her so fast she barely saw him move into the center of the room. He whipped off his kilted plaid and stood naked in the light of the lamp, stealing her breath. His cock jutted out from a nest of dark curls and rose in a gentle curve with a mushroomed head. Despite its large size, her mouth watered, and she fisted the bedsheets to keep from reaching for it, to run her hands over it. She licked her lips, and Jon groaned.
“If you keep doing that, I may not be able to resist the need to feel your mouth on my cock.”
“Doing what?” Isabelle never took her gaze from his hard flesh.
“Licking your lips with such a hungry look on your lovely face.”
“You want my mouth on your cock?” Why did the idea leave her shaking with want?
“Aye, more than you know.” He returned to the bed and knelt beside it, looping one of her legs then the other over his shoulders. “But first, I’m going to give you another dose of release so you’ll be ready for my cock when it’s time.” His breath tickled the wet hairs on her pussy, and more juices flowed between her legs. “Will you trust me to give you more pleasure?”
She bit her bottom lip in consideration. “Will it also bring you pleasure, Jon?”
The rumbling growl pushed sweet agony through her again. “Beyond human comprehension, Belle.”
“But what about your cock?” She wanted a chance to experience his marvelous organ. Something about it called to her, begging her to touch and lick it.
“I will give it to you in time.” He stroked a hand over her thigh, starting the pressuring building in her womb. “Shall we start the next lesson?”
“Aye, please, Jon.”
Chapter Six
Holy Goddess of all, Isabelle’s hungry and trusting expression damn near did him in. She had to be the best virgin he’d ever met, a seductive mixture of sultry and innocent. She may not have known all a courtesan did, but her enthusiasm made her far more valuable. I want her. She’d be the perfect woman for me.
The thought caught him as much by surprise as watching her hand slide up her breast and tug on one of her nipples. Jonarrion’s mouth dried, and his cock flexed between his thighs with an imperative. He had to have this woman, and more than this one night. Perhaps he could convince her to be his regular bed partner for his stay in Lochmore Cott.
Don’t be daft. One night is all I’ll get.
Despite the rebuke, the idea settled in the back of his mind and urged him to take full advantage of the time he had.
“I see you enjoy your nipples plucked.” Isabelle moaned and writhed, the sweet, musky scent
of her pussy filling his nose. “I promise to remember that in the future.”
“Oh, aye. Please do, Jon.” Her fingers squeezed tighter.
Damnation! “Done, sweet Belle. But first I need to do this.” He opened his mouth and lapped up her sweet pussy cream.
The explosion of flavor against his tongue matched the gasp and wail from Isabelle. She arched her back and spread her thighs wider to allow him closer to her moist heat. He dove in, his lips and tongue tracing each curve and dent of her nether lips. Her little clit stretched toward his mouth, and he wrapped his tongue around it, strumming as she ground her mound against his face.
Dear Goddess, she tastes sweeter than she smells.
“Oh, God, Jon. More.” She grabbed his head with her hands and dug her fingers into his hair as she writhed harder.
He growled and suckled her hard nub, sliding one hand under her arse to tilt her pussy closer to his tongue. Isabelle moaned on each exhale, her hips rocking against his lips. He drew his other hand between the cheeks of her arse and pressed one finger into her weeping slit, strumming her clit. She gasped and arched her back as he slowly withdrew from her, only to push back into her with slow repetition.
The walls of her sheath closed around his finger like a fist, and more of her cream coated his tongue as he suckled. Sweet ambrosia swamped his senses, and he licked the edges of her plump lips as he inserted a second finger. He could feel the cap of her virginity against the pads of his fingers, but he kept his strokes short to keep from breaking through.
“Oh, God, Jon. I feel so strange. So needy and so full.”
Jonarrion’s cock swelled again as the scent of her arousal coupled to her words, and he ground the raging flesh against the bed to relieve some of the agony. He increased his strokes, suckling harder on her clit, and Isabelle’s hands tightened in his hair.
“Harder, Jon. Please. Do it harder!”
He hummed against her clit and pumped his fingers into her weeping channel as hard as he dared without breaking her maidenhead. Then he skimmed his teeth over her clit. Isabelle arched her back and fisted his hair, wailing her bliss to the rafters.
