Suddenly he let go and her feet dropped to the floor. Graeme pushed her down with a hand on her shoulder and she fell to her knees. He gripped the back of her head by the hair and with the other hand he lifted his kilt, and she saw his cock for the first time. It was bigger than Conall’s or her late husband’s. Long and thick and red with his need. Her mouth watered. Her husband used to make her do this, but she never told him she didn’t mind it. She liked it, liked servicing a man like this, tasting his passion on her tongue.
“Is this all right?” he asked gruffly. “Tell me, lass. You don’t have to. But I’ve dreamed of it, Avril, of your pretty mouth wrapped around my cock.”
She slid her hands up his rock-hard thighs. They were covered in dark hair that tickled her palms. He was built so fine, so well made and muscular he made her pant to have him any way she could. She wrapped both hands around his cock, near the base, and pulled on it, hand over hand.
“It’s more than all right,” she murmured, looking up at him through her lashes. She licked her lips. “I’ve dreamed of tasting you.”
“I’ll return the favor, my sweet girl,” he said with a wicked smile. Avril cocked her head, not understanding. Graeme stared at her in wonder. “You’ve never had a man’s mouth on you?” Avril shook her head in wonder. Graeme shook his head. “I’m going to have to talk to Conall. The boy had no idea what he was about.”
At the casual mention of Graeme talking to Conall about their fucking, Avril shuddered in desire. “I didn’t know. I couldn’t teach him that.”
Graeme closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. “Don’t remind me he was virgin until you took him, Avril. I won’t last long.”
Avril chose that moment when his eyes were closed to take the end of him in her mouth. His eyes flew open and he gasped. Without hesitation she sucked him as deeply into her mouth as she could. She still grasped him in both hands, and she barely met them with her lips when she could take him no farther. He still held her hair, and with his hand he guided her mouth on him. She wanted to go faster, but he wouldn’t let her. Instead he made her go slowly up and down, and she slid her tongue back and forth on the underside of him, feeling the pulsing veins and the firm muscle underneath the delicate, soft skin. When she wanted more she fought his hold, and he let her stay on the end, playing in the fold of skin there, tasting the salty essence of him. She dipped her tongue into his slit, and he yanked her off with a gasp.
“Enough,” he growled. “Your throat is not where I’m wanting to come.” At her look he added, “Another time, lass, for sure.”
He pulled her to her feet and dragged her over to the cot, where he sat her down on the end. He knelt in front of her and spread her legs. “Lay back,” he ordered, and she obeyed instinctively. Then he raised her skirt and lowered his head. Avril gave a little scream when he kissed her sex. She cried out again when she felt his tongue dancing along the folds there and sucking on the little part that was always so sensitive. Suddenly Graeme’s large finger entered her, and she moaned at the dual sensations of his mouth and his hand working her. He gave her no quarter, rough and hard and fast, and before long she came apart, bucking beneath him and calling out his name. With one last lick that made her back arch off the bed, Graeme sat back. “That’s how a man does it to a woman,” he said with satisfaction. He stood and held out his hand. She took it, her own hand trembling and weak from her climax. He kissed her and she tasted herself on him and nearly swooned, it tasted so good.
He chuckled as he let her go. “Ah, darling, I knew you’d be so good. I used to listen to you and Conall in here, keeping everyone else away. The sounds you made told me that you loved it, loved a man’s hands and mouth and cock on you, in you.”
Avril nodded, still breathing hard enough to make speech difficult. Graeme gently turned her and bent her over the cot, so that she rested on her hands, her bottom stuck out. She blushed as she realized what he was going to do. Once or twice her husband had done it this way, when he was in a hurry or mad at her and not wanting to look at her. Had she embarrassed Graeme with her willingness? Was he disgusted with her?
“I’m too big for the cot,” Graeme said. “I hope you don’t mind if we do it this way tonight. We’ll figure something else out, but right now all I can think about is getting inside of this pretty cunt.” He flipped her skirt up, and she felt the cold air on her damp sex and she shuddered. Graeme ran a hand down over one cheek of her buttock and pinched it, making her jump. He soothed the sting by rubbing it. “Is this all right, Avril?”
She nodded. “Yes,” she whispered, playing loose again by spreading her legs and rising up onto her toes, offering herself to him. He laughed quietly behind her.
“Ah, you don’t know what it means to see you so eager,” he said appreciatively.
“Conall liked that too,” she ventured after a moment’s hesitation.
Graeme’s hand tightened on her rump, his grip almost painful. She bit back a moan. “Did he?” he asked, his voice rough. “Was he eager?”
She nodded. “Yes,” she told him, realizing this was what he and Conall would do later, talk about her. “Yes, he likes to fuck. He likes to come too. Sometimes we’d fuck, and other times I’d help him with our hands and we’d watch him come together.”
Graeme groaned behind her, and in one swift thrust he was inside her. Avril cried out at how good he felt. He stretched her tight, but there was no discomfort. She was so wet from his mouth he glided in and out smoothly. But the size of him made her feel things she’d never felt before. In less than a minute she was rocking back into him hard, as hard as he was driving into her. The slap of his flesh meeting hers was arousing, everything was arousing—the sounds they made, the feel of him, the urgency of it, the scent of their lovemaking. He leaned over and grasped her breasts in both hands as he tugged her harder onto him and she was surrounded by him. With a gasp she felt herself about to come.
“So close,” she cried out. “Don’t stop.” And then she was tipped over the ledge and falling hard. Graeme didn’t stop. He kept pounding into her, driving her pleasure higher, and then he, too, came with a shout, calling her name.
After it was over he helped her to lie down on her cot, and covered her with her plaid and blanket. “Do you wish me to stay?” he asked softly, running the backs of his fingers along her cheek, brushing the hair off her face.
She shook her head. “Go to Conall.”
“Why?” he whispered, indecision on his face.
“I don’t know.” She smiled sleepily. “I like the idea of it, of the two of us sharing you like this.” The truth slipped out of her drowsy mouth and she knew she ought to be ashamed of it, but she wasn’t. She rolled over and kept smiling as he tended the fire in the stove and then slipped out into the night.
Chapter Ten
When Graeme left Avril’s tent he found Hamish sitting outside in front of the fire, whittling on a small stick. He stopped short at the sight of Conall’s brother, not sure what sort of greeting he’d get. After all, he’d just fucked the woman they all knew Conall was in love with. He’d been kind to Graeme once, but that was before this night with Avril.
“Fletcher,” he said carefully.
Hamish blew the curls of wood from the stick and smoothed a finger along it. “Munro,” he said conversationally. “And how are you this evening?”
“Fine, thank you. And you?” Graeme knew he sounded like an idiot, conversing as though at a country ball.
“Fine,” Hamish said, his attention on the stick in his hand. “I was walking by and happened upon some blokes looking for trouble. So I shooed them away and thought I’d sit by the fire for a bit.”
“I see,” Graeme said, trying to discern his meaning. “Did these blokes know I was in there?”
“Yes, they did,” Hamish said. “Did you lock her door?”
Graeme frowned. “No. She was asleep.”
“Well,” Hamish said, stopping to blow off his whittling stick again, “I�
�ve got nothing to do tonight. Not sleeping so well these days. Missing company, if you know what I mean.”
Graeme did know. “Perhaps I should stay as well,” he offered, looking back at Avril’s hut with a frown.
“Ach,” Hamish said, dismissing his offer. “Don’t bother. I think someone’s waiting to see you in your tent.”
“Is there anything in this camp you don’t know?” Graeme asked wryly.
“Might be,” Hamish said with a grin. “But I don’t know of it.” He waved Graeme off. “Go on. I’ll watch your girl.”
“She’s still Conall’s,” Graeme argued. Hamish laughed aloud and then looked around, choking his laughter back to a garbled chuckle.
“Of course she is,” he said. “That’s the point, isn’t it?”
“I care for her too.” Graeme defended himself.
“Of course you do,” Hamish agreed. “That’s also the point.” He sighed. “Go on. You’ll figure it out soon enough.”
Graeme left Avril’s hut behind, trusting Hamish to watch over her. He walked briskly back to his tent, the cold night air clearing his mind of everything. He pretended Conall wasn’t waiting, that things weren’t rolling out of his control. He’d vowed never to come between Conall and Avril, had vowed never to sully the boy with his unnatural desires. And yet here in one night he was going to break both vows. Maybe he could still preserve his honor. He could turn Conall away. Yet wasn’t it Conall’s desire and his approval that had put him inside Avril tonight? It was all a muddle.
Before he knew it, he stood in front of his tent. He froze, just standing there staring at the entrance in a potent mix of fear and anticipation. Perhaps Conall hadn’t come, despite Hamish’s words. He may have fled, common sense taking over. Or he might be in there, waiting for Graeme and God knew what.
Graeme berated himself for his cowardice and resolutely stepped forward and pulled the tent flap aside. Conall spun to face him in the light of the moon and distant campfires. He’d been pacing, from the looks of him. In one glance Graeme could see that he’d removed his sword and sash and his jacket lay open across his chest. Suddenly his own chest felt tight and breathing was difficult.
“Well?” Conall asked, his hands on his hips. There was an underlying tension in his voice that seemed to have more to do with Graeme’s presence than with what had happened with Avril. Or perhaps Graeme just hoped it did.
“Well, what?” he asked, stepping inside and letting the tent flap fall. It was near pitch dark in the tent and he stood there for a moment, letting his eyes adjust. “Why didn’t you light the fire or a lamp?” Graeme asked in exasperation. “It’s damn cold and dark in here.” He started for the table that held the matches and lamp, but Conall stopped him.
“No,” he said harshly. Graeme stopped and turned his head to stare at him. “I don’t want to be silhouetted against the tent,” he said with amusement.
“Why not?” Graeme asked. He wasn’t sure why he was pushing Conall like this. He wanted it out in the open, wanted to confront the elephant in the room. His heart was pounding and his hands fisted at his sides. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to fight or fuck. It was as if he hadn’t just left Avril’s body, as if his passion hadn’t been soothed by her sweet and wild touch.
“You know why,” Conall told him calmly. “Did you fuck Avril? Tell me.”
“Yes,” Graeme said harshly. “Is that what you wanted to hear? That I broke my own vow to leave her alone, that I did it because it was what you wanted. Christ!” he exclaimed, covering his face with his hands. “What have you done to me? What have I let you do?”
He heard and felt Conall move closer, right in front of him. He could smell him and feel his heat. His cock rose, though he tried to prevent it. Tried to tell himself it wasn’t right, wasn’t what he wanted. But it was, it was.
“Which hand?” Conall asked quietly. “Which hand did you have on her sweet cunt, Graeme?”
Graeme didn’t answer right away, his harsh breaths cutting the silence between them. Then he slowly pulled his right away from his face and held it out to Conall, who began to pull Graeme’s glove off, loosening one finger at a time. Graeme thought his heart would pound out of his chest and he’d come just from that slight undressing.
When he had the glove off, Conall tossed it toward the table. Graeme wasn’t sure if it made it, neither man looked. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Conall, who couldn’t stop staring at Graeme’s hand. Then Conall pulled Graeme’s hand to his face and breathed deeply. He sighed in contentment.
“There it is,” he whispered. “The smell of her. God, she smells so good on you, Graeme.” To Graeme’s utter astonishment, Conall leaned forward and sucked his finger into his mouth. His first instinct was to try to snatch it out, but Conall held tight as he sucked on that finger. His tongue worked it, and Graeme was forcibly reminded of Avril’s mouth on his cock earlier. He groaned and could see Conall’s smile around the finger in his mouth. Conall’s beard was heavy but so soft against his hand. All the Fletcher men had heavy, red beards. They all looked like the Highlanders they were. Conall moved up and down on his finger, just as Avril had earlier, and Graeme had to widen his stance, reached down to cup his cock as it hardened. His head fell back and it was Conall’s turn to groan. He let go of Graeme’s finger and licked his palm and Graeme’s arm jerked again.
“What are you doing, Conall?” he whispered, his voice breaking.
“I don’t really know,” Conall answered, rubbing his cheek on Graeme’s hand. “Whatever feels good.” He stopped and leaned down to press his nose to Graeme’s open hand again. “Will your cock taste like her?” he asked softly, his lips brushing against his palm, and Graeme shuddered.
“Yes,” he answered, cursing his weakness even as he said it.
He reached for Conall’s arm as the other man’s legs folded beneath him, trying to catch him and stop him, but Conall went to his knees and ran his hands under Graeme’s kilt onto his bare thighs, just as Avril had done earlier. “She did this for me. Did she do it for you?” Conall’s question was a little breathless, his voice rough.
“Yes,” Graeme said, and it was almost a groan.
“That’s all I know of it,” Conall said. His fingers dug into Graeme’s thighs. “I haven’t done it to another man. Have you?”
“Yes.” Now was when Graeme had to confess all. He had to drive Conall away before they were all in over their heads. “I’ve done it to several men, and had it done to me by both men and women.”
“You’ve always known, then,” Conall said, and he sounded envious. “I wish I’d known sooner what this was between us. With practice I’ll make you forget the others.” He grabbed Graeme’s kilt and yanked it up, wrapping his big, rough fist around Graeme’s cock so quickly Graeme had no chance to stop him. It felt so good his knees trembled and he reached out to balance himself on Conall’s broad shoulders.
Conall leaned forward immediately and took Graeme’s cock in his mouth, as though he were afraid he’d lose his courage. Graeme bit his lip hard to keep from shouting out loud at how good it felt. He tasted blood in his mouth but he didn’t dare let go of his lip or the whole camp would hear him and know how good it felt to fuck Conall’s mouth. At first Conall just held Graeme’s cock in his mouth lightly, breathing heavily through his nose, squeezing the base in his fist until it was just short of too much. Then Conall’s mouth tightened and he pulled his head back until just the tip was snug in that sweet, hot cavern. He played with him, tonguing him, and again Graeme compared it to Avril earlier. She’d done the same thing. When Conall slipped his tongue into Graeme’s slit, he fisted Conall’s hair and tried to yank him off, but Conall was stronger than Avril and would have none of it. Instead he slid down onto him again, until he gagged slightly and had to pull back.
“I’m too big for that,” Graeme said breathlessly. “Just suck it.”
Conall refused to obey—at least that was what it seemed like to Graeme. He didn’t just suck. He toye
d with him, sucking and licking and jerking him with his hand until Graeme was whimpering, his lips locked tight lest he rouse the whole camp with his cries. Never, never had a man’s mouth felt so good on him. He’d had men take him deeper, be rougher, suck harder, but Conall instinctively knew what Graeme wanted, what he liked. When Conall groaned around his cock, Graeme knew he was enjoying it just as much. It was a bit of a test, wasn’t it? Taking another man’s prick in your mouth for the first time to see if you could handle it. Conall was handling it better than Graeme.
Suddenly Conall’s other hand slid up Graeme’s thigh to his hip and then trailed down through his pubic hair and slid between his legs. He cupped Graeme’s stones, rolled them in his fingers and then roughly tugged and Graeme lost the battle. He gave a short, harsh cry, clutching Conall’s hair and fucking into his mouth. If Conall hadn’t kept a fist on him it would have choked him. Graeme was beyond caring. Let the lad see what he’d started, see where it led. He used his fist in Conall’s hair as he’d used it in Avril’s, to pump his head up and down his cock, fucking him.
“I’ve never fucked a sweeter mouth,” he groaned, cupping one hand around Conall’s jaw so he could feel how wide his mouth was as he accepted Graeme’s cock. “Christ, Conall, you were born to suck cock.”
Conall: The 93rd Highlanders, Book Two Page 7
