Juliette Miller - [Clan MacKenzie 02]

by Highlander Taken

  Intent, his fingers touched me, and began their own stealthy caress, guided by desire to rest under my shift, between my legs. I heard his low intake of breath. I could feel the light echo of his pulse beneath the skin of his wrist. The touch of his warrior’s fingers against me intensified the low, damp sweetness in my center. All my senses gathered on that singular swelling place.

  And then his fingers began to move, rubbing in slow, steady circles. With his other hand he pushed my shift higher, lifting it over the abundant swell of my breasts. He cupped the full, rounded weight, kneading gently, circling my nipple in an identical rhythm, pinching in luring, furtive pulls.

  “You want to feel me, lass? Is this what you want? My hands on you?”

  “Aye, I want to feel you. I want to feel...”

  “Feel, then, wife,” he said, parting my secret swollen petals, sliding his fingers just inside me while simultaneously squeezing my nipple in a tighter clench of all of his fingers, pulling and elongating the hard peak. “I’ve a mind to restrain you and tempt you with my denial...or by other means. I can be quite creative when I put my mind to it. You’ll see.”

  His mouth took mine, opening me to his unhurried demand. His desire was aggressive yet controlled, supple yet dominating. He was no longer a phantom but my fierce, tumultuous husband. My body was open to him in any way he chose to take me.

  He drew back just slightly, deeply affected by my total compliance. “I’d made up my mind to wait, lass. But it seems I don’t have it in me to deny you anything. I’ll give you a taste of what this marriage bed has to offer, shall I?” His fingers slid deeper into the slippery core of my body. “Oh, God Almighty,” he whispered, “The feel of you... I can feel your innocence, right here. The barrier I’ve yet to break.”

  “Do it,” I whispered, wanting more than anything for him to take my innocence. To take me as his own. As his wife, in every sense.

  His voice was agonized. “Nay, lass. I must be true to my word. I can’t have you believing me untrustworthy.” He spoke the words as though they pained him, yet there was steely resolve behind his meaning.

  In this moment, I cared not about his word, nor his resolve. All I could comprehend, in fact, was the rising sensation he drew from my body. His skill in the matter of loving was unmistakable. Kade tantalized me with his expertise. You are indeed an instrument to be played. His fingers were barely inside me, prodding into the stretching tightness, exploring deftly to find a profound and excruciating sweet spot, as his thumb skated deliciously across the sensitive nub, swirling and teasing. The sultry pleasure spiraled, glowing from within. His left hand continued its playful torture, rolling my nipple in needy tugs. His mouth found my other breast and he sucked me and bit me, devouring with his tongue and his teeth, delivering a harmonic rhythm of pleasure that spiked avidly, and quickly. The rapture was sharp and bright, erupting in ecstatic bursts through my core, warming my breasts, spilling with an eager beauty that I could feel to the very tips of my fingers and toes. I moaned, digging my fingernails into his skin.

  “’Tis a good thing we have our own wing,” he said, chuckling softly. He continued to suck languidly on my breasts, one, then the other. The feeling of his mouth on me, softly pulling and demanding, as the echo of my release still pulsed, was indescribable. My body felt molten and alive, more liquid than form and flesh.

  “My wife is insatiable. Let me give you a wee bit more feeling,” he said against my skin, suckling more gently now. He eased lower, kissing a line down my stomach, licking into my navel, which made me squirm and laugh. I began to turn, to escape his wicked tongue. But my husband held me down, arranging me as he wanted, spreading my legs farther and lying between them. I struggled lightly against him, not to rid myself of him, but because the melted core of my body still throbbed with the lingering waves of my release. I felt flighty, reckless, covetous. I wanted more. I wanted him. To give and to take, to rub against him and consume him. I writhed beneath him, gripping the hard muscles of his arms. He was so much stronger than me that I was entirely overpowered by him. My desire for him to do anything to me, combined as it was with the knowledge that he could, and easily, was stunningly arousing. I was brimming with moisture and heat.

  “Husband,” I murmured.

  “Aye,” he answered.

  “Do that again.”

  This made him laugh, and the sound of his laughter seemed to vibrate in the still-pulsing depths of me. “I aim to, lass. Lie still. You’re going to like this.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Something I’ve been wanting to do for quite some time. Ever since the very first moment I saw you, in fact, from across the room.” He was easing himself down my body, running his tongue along the line of my hip bone, trailing lower. And closer.

  I pushed against his head as I realized what he was doing. “Wait,” I breathed, propping myself up on my elbows to look at him.

  But his fingers were parting me and he was lowering his mouth to me.

  “Kade! Stop.”

  He looked up at me, his hair wild and his eyes twinkling. “Why?”

  “Don’t do that. You can’t. ’Tis indecent.”

  “Good. I like indecent. And so will you.” His head began to lower again, but I squirmed more forcefully, attempting to back away from him. I wasn’t able to budge even one inch. His hold was absolute.

  “Nay, I said!” My voice didn’t sound as stern as I’d intended.

  His crooked smile both irked me and disarmed me. “And I say aye. You should know that about me. I’m exceedingly indecent. Depraved, even. Debauched, too, upon occasion. You started this, remember. Now lie back this instant, or I’ll be forced to restrain you.”

  I paused, remembering. He bound her to the bed. To be sure, the idea of my husband’s domination seemed far less daunting than it once had.

  “Lie back, wife. If you deny me the pleasure of tasting you for even one more minute, there’s no telling how I might react. I’m feeling somewhat overcome with anticipation. Do as I say.” His devilish smirk left no question as to his intent. “Let me pleasure you, lass. Let me take control.” The affectionate edge to his voice was enough to see me obeying his command. I was saturated with desire for him, aye. I knew he would get his way and I wanted him to have his way with me. And, while I hadn’t been expecting this, there was no escaping him. So I lay back, my fingers still entwined in his hair, more gently now.

  Kade spread my legs wider. Then he licked into the softness of my hot core, nudging deeply with his tongue. The fire was instant, the pleasure all-consuming. His mouth moved to the tiny nerve center, sucking greedily on my furled flesh with sumptuous absorption.

  Slowly, his fingers entered me. I could feel a light, compounding thrill as he rubbed against that wildly sensitive place inside me, once, and again. Wanting more, I grasped more tightly the fistfuls of his hair, writhing along to his rhythm. He withdrew his touch abruptly. I whimpered a moan of protest. I tried to relax my quivering, restless body. After a moment, he seemed satisfied by my submission and he fixed his mouth onto me once again, continuing the enchanting suction of his mouth, entering me again, now with two fingers. The starry, prickling ecstasy began deep inside me, spurred by the languid pulls of his mouth and the exquisite pressure of his fingers, feeding a cyclical, liquid bloom of sensation. The pleasure was disabling, maddening, fracturing my consciousness into dreamy shards of light. Mind-numbing bursts of bliss clenched tightly around his slippery fingers. His tongue slid and flicked, prolonging the swell until I lay panting and spent. I felt drowsy and drunk as he continued to kiss my throbbing, most intimate places.

  I was barely conscious of his big body lying heavily atop mine. He moved to kiss my face and my hair, smoothing his hand along the long strands. It might have been several minutes later, I wasn’t sure, when I felt the weight of him removed. Time was wistful and vague.

  The sound of fabric and the clang of his weapons brought me back to a soft-edged awareness.

/>   He was up and getting dressed.

  I rolled to one side, to watch him. “Where are you going?”

  “A walk. A swim. I’ll be back later.”

  A small stab of panic jabbed against my heart. “Nay,” I said immediately. “Kade. Don’t go. Come back to bed.”

  “Sleep now, Stella.” He had slung one of his weapons holsters across his chest, and his trews were on but yet unfastened, low on his hips. His arousal was so strained and enlarged that I could see the broad tip of it protruding from the linen of his underclothing. The sight of him did strange things to me. My pulse was a gentle throb in my chest, and elsewhere, exciting a primitive yearning to get closer to him, to his magnificence and his war-scarred beauty. I wanted so much to touch him. “I said I’ll be back. Get your rest.”

  I sat up, my feet dangling off the side of the bed. My shift was bunched around my neck, falling to my back, so my body was entirely exposed to him. This thought barely registered, except perhaps as a necessary detail of what I was already planning to do. Somewhat irritated by it, I slipped the garment over my head, letting it fall. I didn’t want him to leave me. Especially not in frustration. I knew what the consequences of enticing him, of asking him—or begging him—to stay would be. And I was willing.

  “I beg of you,” I said. I’ll not force you, nor will I do anything at all that you don’t beg me to do. “Come to me.”

  He looked at me warily, as though I were the threat. To his honor and his law.

  “You won’t be breaking your word to me, husband,” I assured him. “I want you to. Please don’t leave. Please come to me.”

  It was the vulnerable edge to this final soft-spoken entreaty that seemed to break down his defenses.

  He walked over to me, still barefoot, shirtless, clad only in a leather strap dripping with knives and his unfastened trews, which revealed more to me, as he drew closer, than I might ever have imagined. His expression bordered on sulky, guarded. Yet he came to me, standing several feet from the edge of the bed.

  I rose, bridging the divide. I looked up at him, feeling small yet perhaps bolder than I ever had felt. I reached to unfasten the buckle of the holster draped across his bare chest. He allowed this, and I lifted the weapons from his body, bending to place them on the stone floor. I was entirely unworldly. I had no idea how to go about any play at seduction, yet I could sense from the look in his light, penetrating eyes that my nakedness, my movement and the fumbling insistence of my hands were working in whatever way I might have intended. I slid Kade’s bone-handled knife from its scabbard at his hip. It was heavy and solid in my hands. I took a step back, half sitting against the bed, laying the knife on the furs.

  “I have but one weapon left to me,” he said, his voice gravel-edged with passion.

  “Come closer,” I whispered, easing myself back up onto to the bed.

  He obeyed my request, standing silently at the edge of the bed. I opened my legs so he could move closer, not touching me, yet close enough for me to reach out to him. Tentatively, I pushed at the fabric of his underclothing and his trews, drawing them down lower on his hips to reveal him to me.

  I had felt him brush up against me in past nights under the heavy covers and in the total darkness. Now, with the fire casting its gentle light, I could for the first time marvel, aghast, at the full extent of his manhood. I had, of course, never seen anything like this and not even in my wildest dreams could I have imagined such...impressiveness. Even in my innocence it was clear that he was gloriously made. The sight of his body, fully revealed to me, imbued me with a sudden pang of longing, like hunger or thirst.

  Carefully, I took him in my hands, marveling at the feel of him. Like hot silk over rigid stone. He cursed and closed his eyes as my cool fingers explored his full length. I was fascinated by the surprising textures of him, the softness of his skin, the heat, the generous solidity. The touch of my curious fingers seemed to have a profound effect on him. His eyes opened to watch my beguiled study, and their blue light was fiery yet tinted with something deeper: awe perhaps. Reverence. For the first time, I felt entirely in control. He was mine, completely. I’ll admit it pleased me, this small power. It was the first time my femininity felt to me like a strength. This formidable warrior was wholly at my mercy, just from the light caress of my fingers. I wanted to work this power, to see where it might take me. To see what it might do to him. Would he find that sublime, overwhelming rush, as I had? I had no knowledge of such things, and I wanted to find out. I increased the pressure of my grasp, sliding my hand along his length, getting a feel for his reaction. His eyes were heavy-lidded, glazed with lust. His broad chest rose and fell in uneven rasps. And I was intrigued to find that a bead of moisture had gathered at the tip of his shaft, which was so engorged, it did look, to be certain, as if it might burst at any moment.

  Using my hands, I guided him closer, so that the broad end of his jutting manhood was level with my mouth. Would he allow this? He had used his mouth on me, so perhaps he would, I reasoned. He made no objection, only growling a loud, exhaling oath as I eased my lips around the tip of him. The taste of him was so compelling to me, so hypnotically absolute, I could only draw more of him into my mouth, seeking more, licking him with soft, devoted strokes of my tongue. I waited for him to draw away. But instead of withdrawing, he weaved his fingers around the base of my skull, under my hair, pushing himself farther into my mouth.

  Encouraged, I took as much of him as I could, increasing the light suction, easing him in and out of my mouth, tasting the salty essence of him as my hands continued to stroke and explore.

  “Stella,” he rasped. “Hellfire and damnation, I can’t hold on to this. ’Tis too much.”

  I wasn’t sure what he meant by that. But I was soon to find out. As I took him deeper once again, suckling him in a gentle rhythm, he groaned as though he were being burned by the hellfire he spoke of. Hot liquid filled my mouth in jetting, milky pulses. His rush had overcome him, and here it was. As he had done to me, prolonging my ecstasy with his mouth, so I did to him. I took his essence, swallowing his bliss, licking and kissing and playing him with my lips and my tongue until he was completely spent.

  After a time, he pulled himself away, tilting my head up with his hands. In his eyes I saw amazement, and tender revelation. He rid himself of his low-strung trews, kicking them away. He took the knife from where it lay on the bed and placed it on the bedside table. Then he gathered me into his arms, against his skin, laying me back and covering us with the furs. He wrapped his long limbs around me, settling me close to him in a comforting, all-encompassing embrace. My head was tucked against his chest, so I could hear the steady beat of his heart. I could feel his soft kisses against my hair. I was more content than I had ever been, and my eyes closed.

  * * *

  I WAS AWAKENED by the silky touch of Kade’s thick hair brushing along my thigh, his wandering fingers playing. I was positioned on my side, my knees bent, with one leg propped up and slung across his brawny shoulder. His head rested on one of my splayed thighs as the soft, nuzzling wetness of his tongue stroked me open, infusing me with restless, awakening rapture.

  I tugged on his hair, and my husband chuckled, even as his tongue slid deeper into my body, possessing me as he gripped me with his ironlike hands, pulling me closer to his mouth, feeding on my pleasure. His unholy tongue stroked me open, lapping against my secret petals, parting me to his hungry persistence. He licked a small circle around the sensitive bud, flicking and teasing before his mouth fixed upon it, sucking strongly in cyclical pulls. With each tug, a rising bolt of sweetness rose from within me. “Kade,” I moaned, my hands on his head, in his hair. “Please.” I was sobbing. ’Twas too much. I couldn’t contain the overloading tide, which spilled from my core in rushing, clenching bursts that seemed endless in their intensity. I rode the undulating wave, rolling my hips to quell the excesses. Still he wouldn’t relent. He pushed his tongue deep inside me, delving along to the rhythm of my body, igniting
fresh, torturous ecstasy. My inner muscles clamped voluptuously around his wicked tongue. He kissed my swollen, sated flesh, licking me, whispering against my body.

  “Nectar,” he murmured. “Heaven on earth.”

  After many minutes of this attentive, unhurried appreciation, my husband crawled up my body to lie next to me, propping himself up on one crooked elbow. He regarded me with a smug, lazy grin and narrowed eyes. I felt the connectivity of our locked gaze in my heart as a small ache that I could not name.

  But then he disengaged, rolling away and rising from the bed. His manhood was no less pronounced that it had been the night before, but he made no move to cover himself. I wondered what it must be like to walk around like that all day. Was it painful? Distracting? He seemed to take little notice of it as he retrieved something from an open trunk. He’d yet to unpack all his belongings. It was just one of the many jobs to do.

  He returned to the bed, holding a small leather bundle. “I’ve made something for you,” he said. “I want you to keep this with you at all times.”

  “What is it?” I asked, sitting up.

  “A knife,” he said, holding it up. It was a miniature of his large bone-handled knife, with its own fitted holster and small belt. Its blade caught a flicker of light. “I’ve sharpened it well. It will inflict a fatal wound if used correctly. I’m going to strap it to your leg, where it’s hidden from view. No one will know you’re armed. Yet you have protection, if you happen to need it.”

  Kade strapped the small belt to my thigh just above my knee, cinching it and placing the knife securely in its pouch.

  It felt strange to be naked like this, with him, my only adornment a small yet lethal weapon. Yet I didn’t feel uncomfortable. Already, I was adjusting to this closeness, this familiarity. Because I had been given time to get used to him, and because I knew that he would allow me all my hesitations and respect my limits, he’d effectively banished my reservations. I felt no residual fear. His presence offered me only comfort now, and promise. And I felt touched that my husband had prepared this for me. He’d been thinking of me.