by Suz deMello
She tried to cover herself from his lusty gaze, but he stopped her, seizing her hands in a firm grasp.
“I’m just lookin’ at ye, lassie.”
“It’s…it’s indecent.” Not even William had studied her in the intent, wicked, sinful way Kieran did now. Her first husband had come to her in the dark of night, forced himself on her and left.
She struggled for a moment, and he said, “Kylyrra, do I have to tie ye up?”
She stared at him, struck mute.
“Aye, I think so. It might be easier for ye.” Still holding her wrists, he used his body to sprawl her flat on the bed. He untied his black cravat with his free hand and used it to secure her wrists to one of the bedposts.
Binding her hadn’t taken him more than a moment.
With her snugly fastened, he smiled down at her. She was still speechless, shaking with outrage and more than a little fear. William had hurt her in bed without tying her up. What would Kieran do?
She remembered his reputation and scooted back, as far away as she could go, drawing her legs beneath her. He wasn’t even a civilized English gentleman but a wild Highlander, descendant of the Viking warriors who’d struck England’s coasts again and again, burning villages, butchering the men and raping the women.
But their descendant didn’t seem to be following his ancestors’ lead. The summer night was finally falling, and as gloom descended, Kieran went from lamp to lamp, candle to candle, lighting each until the room glowed. The space was redolent of beeswax, her rose scent and his midnight aura.
Then he toed off his shoes and removed his jacket and waistcoat. Without his cravat, his collar hung open, and Lydia thought that she could see a hint of his broad chest beneath the half-open shirt.
Soon he would be naked, and then he’d… “What—what are you going to do?”
He stopped undressing to turn and look at her, smiling. “I’m going to love ye better than anyone ever has.” He pulled off his shirt and tossed it onto a nearby chair.
She’d rarely seen William naked, and she remembered he’d been thin and wiry, with small tufts of pale brown hair. Kieran was completely different—tall and broad, with pale skin smooth over ridges of solid bone and muscle. Black, masculine hair curled over a chest that seemed fashioned of polished white marble.
She’d ignored her fear in favor of examining her husband and now anticipation tingled along her skin, lifting the tiny hairs. She squeezed her thighs together to control the odd ache that had possessed her quim. However, the press of her flesh heightened her desire. She wanted him, and wanted to trust him, but feared the inevitable pain and shame.
“Now I can truly look at ye, my bonnie wife.” His voice was husky as he approached her. He leaned over the bed and took her ankles. She drew in a nervous breath as he stretched her out flat to look his fill.
Each time his gaze passed up and down her body, it was as though he stroked her with his big, strong hands. Her flesh twitched, every cell shifting, her body moistening, readying for him. She could see her left breast bounce with the pounding of her heart. Moisture oozed from her quim. She wanted to touch herself, to touch him, and jerked against the bonds.
“Aye, ye’re beautiful bound.” Kieran spread her knees wide apart and knelt between them. His satin pantaloons slid cool and slick against her thighs.
She found herself thrusting against him to get relief for her pulsing, aching core. “Please…” She didn’t recognize the husky voice as hers.
What was she doing? What was she becoming?
“I don’t know what to do,” she choked out in a whisper.
He laughed softly, but without any meanness, just joy. “Whatever ye wish, lassie. Let go. Let me in.” Leaning forward, he kissed her open, panting mouth, using his tongue and teeth on her.
She allowed the invasion and pushed her body against his. Her breasts pressed against his solid chest and a bolt of pure want stabbed through her. She wanted more, but he pulled away to test the tightness of the cravat around her wrists. He nodded, evidently pleased, then scrabbled with gentle fingernails down her arms to her breasts.
He pinched the nipples, which had beaded as hard as pink pearls. “Palest rose. Beautiful.” He looked her in the eyes. “And a bonnie blush.”
That heat had spread to her entire being, but she was beyond embarrassment, writhing now with desire, thrusting her breasts up into his hands.
He continued speaking in a conversational tone. “They’ll turn dark when you bear our bairns. Did ye know that, Lydia?”
“N-no,” she managed to say, though her lips and tongue were thickened with passion.
“Aye, they will. Beautiful either way.” He leaned down again and set his mouth on her breast, sucking hard. His unbound hair stroked her belly.
Emitting a small scream, she jerked up her knees and frantically shoved herself against him. He allowed her to struggle and thrash, undulating beneath him and yanking on the cravat while he enjoyed her breasts. Each tug and pull of his lips drew forth a corresponding chord of passion that resounded through her. She found herself moaning, little incoherent cries of lust she hadn’t known she could utter.
“Aye, lassie. Wrap your legs around me.” He reached down to help, and the position angled her quim against his body. He banged his body against her repeatedly, setting up a rhythm, and she responded. Her frantic thrashing became more disciplined and he murmured, “Aye, like that.”
He gave her one last suck and a nip so hard that pain mixed with passion before releasing her nipple. Wet and hard, it glowed red in the mellow lamplight. He kissed away a tiny rivulet of blood that wept from the tip.
She panted, wordless except for, “Please, please, please…”
He smiled slowly. “Aye, kylyrra. I’ll give ye what ye need. What ye want.”
Down her body he went until his eager gaze feasted on her wet, open quim. She tried to close her legs, but he wouldn’t let her, instead holding her knees high and wide.
She resisted and he slapped her thigh. “Nay, lady. Ye’re mine to enjoy any way I choose. And I choose this.”
She drew in a shocked breath, for the spank had stung. Then the little pain settled into her quim, adding an unexpected layer of heated passion. She was wet, so wet that her juices flowed along her folds and creases, a tickly feeling that increased her bewildered embarrassment.
Her shock increased when he bent his dark head and lapped at her pearl. Closing her eyes, she saw dark flares of brilliance flash against her shuttered lids with every flick and push of his tongue. Oh, it was wicked and wanton, but so good that she opened her legs wider and pressed herself onto his mouth. She remembered he’d said, “Many lassies say it’s their favorite.” Now she knew why.
As he licked her, he reached up and tweaked her breasts again, igniting twin fires in the tips. She was aflame with a desire she had never known she could feel. She was panting with the exertion, with want, struggling toward a fulfillment that eluded her.
He rubbed his tongue hard against her bump and slid first one finger then another inside her, but that wasn’t enough. She blinked, writhed, wanted, pulling against her bonds.
He raised his head, his midnight eyes bright. “Kylyrra, I think I understand what ye need. Close your eyes again and trust me.”
She sucked in a deep, desperate breath and obeyed him. Then something wet entered her bum, where William had violated and hurt her. This—Kieran’s finger?—didn’t hurt, but it was wrong, so perverted that she squirmed and cried out with despair because it felt so good. Every quiver of her body, every gentle swirl of Kieran’s finger inside her backside took her higher until she leaped over the edge into oblivion.
She tensed then released, glittering stars shining behind her closed lids, but sobbed, “No!”
“It’s all right, kylyrra, whatever you feel is all right.” Kieran’s voice was soothing. When her trembling stopped, he slowly removed his finger and crawled up her body, covering her with his strength, his tenderness. He unti
ed the cravat and took her into his arms.
Lydia was weeping. “I d-don’t understand!”
He held her tight and murmured softly and sweetly into her ear, words in his strange language that she didn’t comprehend but that nevertheless comforted her. When she’d calmed, he said softly, “’Tis simple, love. Your first experience in bed was with your husband using your backside. Though it hurt, it also stirred your blood, didnae it?”
“Yes,” she whispered, so ashamed she did her best to bury her face into his chest.
“’Tis all right, sweetling. Our experiences shape us, especially the first time. ’Tis natural ye’d be stirred by the same act. Dinnae worry. I’ll not hurt ye.”
Lifting her head, she narrowed her eyes at him. “You slapped my leg.”
He laughed. “But I didnae hurt ye. It also stirred ye. Admit it.”
“Ye-es,” she murmured sulkily.
Still smiling, he laid her on the pillows and kissed her. First her forehead, then her cheek, then her lips. He rose and went to the dressing table, where he poured water from a ewer into a bowl and washed, stripping off the rest of his clothes. She watched with fascination as he unfastened his breeches and cleaned his cock, which hung from a dark nest of hair. He seemed entirely relaxed with his nakedness, behaving as though they’d been married forever.
She wondered if she’d ever reach a like state.
Chapter Five
When Lydia awoke, she was alone. The curtains were drawn around their bed and only Kieran’s distinctive male aroma was present.
She stretched, remembering how she’d felt after her first wedding night, She’d also awakened alone, but in a bed that stank of feces and blood with a raw, sore bum and an even more injured heart. This day, she felt rested and pleased with the risk she’d taken by wedding her not-so-wild Highlander.
He’d been gentle and considerate, eschewing his pleasure in favor of beginning what she guessed would be a long initiation into the joys of lovemaking. She had never before heard of anything Kieran had done in bed, except for the kissing, and wondered what more he would reveal.
Now she understood what some of the other married women of her acquaintance had hinted at but wouldn’t discuss. Now she understood the reason George and Jane would frequently cast sidelong glances at each other and disappear at odd hours, then show up with big smiles and disheveled clothing.
Sitting up, Lydia pushed the curtains aside. Elsbeth appeared as though she’d popped out of a Jack-in-the-box.
Lydia grabbed the sheet and covered her naked breasts. “When did you get here?”
“Milaird bade me enter at dawn, my lady.”
“Where is milaird?”
“I don’t know, my lady. He went out after bidding me to fetch your breakfast when you awakened. He told me to serve you in bed.”
“Did he now?” Lydia lay back onto the pillows, smiling.
She had finished eating when Kieran entered. “And where have you been, husband?”
“Kisses first, questions second.”
Elsbeth scurried out when he approached the bed, a dark presence looming over Lydia.
He kissed her forehead, then her cheek, then her mouth. “I’ve been spendin’ yer dowry.”
“On what?”
He sat on the side of the bed, which creaked. “Things for the clan, provisions for the winter that we cannae make or grow ourselves. Dinnae worry, wife, I’ll not waste your siller.”
“I feel as though you married me for my money. ’Tis an odd feeling.”
“I betrothed ye for your money, but after we met I married ye for purely carnal reasons.” He leaned over and nipped her neck.
“Kieran!”
“If ye dinnae want to be attacked in bed, ye should probably get out of it.”
She winked at him, feeling feminine and daring. “P’raps I’ll stay here for the nonce.”
He yanked off his jacket and sprawled beside her. “P’raps I’ll join ye.” He rolled atop her, pressing her down.
She gasped for breath and he rolled back. “Sorry. I dinnae know my own strength.”
“It’s all right. Just for a moment I felt a little…trapped.”
He eyed her. “Och, I can guess why.”
“William.”
“Aye, William, both blessed and damned. When will he get out of our bed, lassie? ’Tis a mite crowded in here with the three of us.” Kieran’s voice was kind but firm.
She breathed, sighed, relaxed. “As soon as I can boot him out.”
“Let’s start getting rid of him now.” He tossed the quilt and sheet to the foot of the bed, baring her body.
She blushed but endured his stare, knowing that if she resisted he might tie her up again. She didn’t want to risk her maid seeing her in such an embarrassing state.
He caressed her breasts, cupping and examining them with his dark, curiously intent gaze. He pinched one and she vaguely remembered that he’d bitten her sharply on that nipple the previous night. But it appeared unharmed, though a little more swollen than usual. As he fondled her, the tips firmed and hardened into tight cones of arousal. She leaned back into the pillows and drew deep breaths, letting her breasts thrust into his hands. He squeezed and shaped while she allowed herself to enjoy the pressure, the tugging, the pulling. She moaned. Her hips jerked and her quim moistened, fluttered, opened, waiting for him.
He spread her legs and said, “What’s this?”
“What?”
“Your courses, I believe.” He pushed in a finger and she heard a squelching sound.
“Oh, no.” She tried not to cry, but tears sprang to her eyes despite her determination.
“Oh, no…what?” Kieran asked. He pulled out his finger and licked off the red fluid that coated it. “I willnae stop having ye for a week every month, wife. ’Tis too much to ask.”
She watched, amazed. William had avoided her when she bled. Kieran seemed to relish it.
“Ye look right funny with yer mouth open like that.”
She shut it with a snap.
“Ye know what a man likes to do with a lassie’s open mouth, don’t ye?”
“Kiss it?”
“Nay.”
“Um, put his tongue into it?”
He stood, unlaced his trews and took out his cock, running his fingers along its already nerve-racking length. He smoothed away a fleshy covering to reveal a thick, rigid pole.
She gaped. William hadn’t been as big. What could Kieran do to her with this weapon?
“Exactly so, my wife. Shall we try this?”
His voice was soft and supplicating. Reassured, she managed a nod. Her gaze remained fixed on his thickening member as he pulled off boots and stockings, shirt and trews.
Her gaze flashed up to his chest, muscular, white-skinned and furred with black curls, then back to his cock and down. His legs were as hard and brawny as the rest of him, with the shapely calves she remembered from the first time they’d met.
His member again seized her attention. She was fascinated by his tool, framed as it was by a thick bed of black hair. “I, er…I’ve never known anyone who could divest himself of his clothes so quickly.”
“Ye’re a lass of limited experience, but ye’ll not hear me complain.”
Reaching for her ankles, he tugged them down, then arranged a pillow beneath her head, elevating it for…what?
“Ye seem right curious about my friend, here.” He fondled his rigid length, its vivid color a contrast with the pale skin that covered the rest of his muscular body.
“Er, yes.”
“Explore all ye wish, my bonnie wife. He’s yours to use as ye will.” Kieran climbed back onto the bed, kneeling with one knee on either side of her torso. He smiled down at her.
She reached out with a hesitant finger and touched the tip. Firm, round and red. She stroked, and from beneath the surface smoothness a hard core jutted into her hand.
“Oh!” She jerked her fingers away.
He replaced them. “He
often does seem to have a mind of his own, but I try to think with the one in my head.” He gave her his impish grin.
She smiled back and gave him a hesitant squeeze.
Sucking in a breath, he closed his eyes. Encouraged, she squeezed more firmly, then ran her fingertips up and down, watching and listening as well as feeling. A musky aroma mingled with Kieran’s usual fresh scent and her roses. She leaned forward to sniff his privates and inhaled deeply, her nose nuzzling his cods.
His cock, swaying, bumped against her cheek and she used her lips and tongue to move it away. Another indrawn breath from her husband, this one louder. Interesting. She turned her head to one side and again put her mouth to his shaft.
“Yesss…”
Aha. She slid her lips up and down his length, eliciting a groan. She hoped it was a happy groan, and looked up to see Kieran’s eyes closed and an ecstatic expression on his face.
Pleased, she continued, flicking her tongue around randomly until she reached the dome-shaped head. The tiny hole on the top was a little intimidating, so she contented herself with following the ridge around. Another groan. Ah.
Emboldened, she traced a line over the top, pausing briefly at the little slit. It had produced a shiny droplet of some kind of fluid…did she need that to get a baby?
She was about to ask Kieran to put it inside her before she remembered she had her courses. A renewed wave of disappointment washed over her and she leaned back against the pillows.
He opened his eyes to look down at her. “Thank ye, my wife. Thank ye.” He slid down her body, making her aware of every ridge of his muscles. His chest hair scratched pleasantly, raising her nipples to tight little kernels of want.
His head ended up where it had been the night before and she couldn’t restrain a delighted giggle. This time he pressed his tongue against her pearl, forcing a quiver of arousal through her before he focused on licking out her quim, using his fingers to open the narrow slit for better access. The flesh tingled, even stung a little when he thrust two fingers into her wetness. Then he kissed her pearl again and the sting transmuted into a sizzle.
