Scot on Her Trail

by Lee, Caroline

  “Lass, did ye just—”

  But she wasn’t listening, nay. In fact, she wasn’t paying his words any attention. Instead, she was staring at his cock, which stood out from its nest of curls much like some kind of hungry beast.

  Did ye just compare yer wee willy to a hungry beast?

  Shut up.

  He tried again. “Skye, I came to see yer brother because—”

  Apparently, she was done talking.

  Eyes wide, she reached for him, curling her fingers around his shaft, in a way which made him suck in a startled, yet thrilled, breath.

  Kneeling on his kilt, he found himself thrusting his hips toward her, desperate for more of her touch.

  “Oh, Duncan,” she murmured, her gaze riveted on his member, “ ’tis so hard…yet soft too. Feeling ‘tis so different from just seeing it, ye ken?”

  She was examining him as Malcolm might study a new insect he’d discovered.

  Then her eyes snapped up to his. “Can I taste it?”

  He wanted to think he’d said something smooth and appealing, but Duncan suspected the noise which escaped his lips was more like a, “Whaag?”

  But that appeared to be the only encouragement she needed, because Skye leaned forward and dragged her tongue across the tip of his cock, and all coherent thoughts he may have once had were long gone.

  Duncan tipped his head back, squinting up at the impossibly blue sky, and wondered what piece of saintly work he’d done to deserve this.

  Ye came here to tell her ye love her! To propose marriage!

  Aye, aye, and he would…just as soon as he…

  Ahh!

  Her lips had closed around his shaft, and she’d pulled him deep into her warm, wet mouth.

  Wait, what had he been thinking about?

  One of her hands fell to his bollocks, while the other inched around to cup his arse. St. Simon’s tits, but it felt divine!

  And then her tongue slid along his shaft, and he jerked forward. She made a little noise—he couldn’t tell if it was surprise or pleasure—and he cursed.

  Pulling from her mouth was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, but he forced himself to drop back on his heels and sink to the ground, his breathing heavy and uneven.

  “Skye! I cannae— If ye keep doing that, I’ll no’ last!”

  In response, she cupped her palms around her tits and squeezed, then dropped her head back with a moan, and he gave up.

  He’d come here to make her his, and this seemed like the most enjoyable way.

  In a blink, he was beside her, placing his hand over hers, squeezing, as he lowered his head to suckle. With his other hand, he supported her head as he laid her back on the plaid, so she was stretched out before him like a buffet.

  His lips trailed across her tits to her belly, then lower. Her hand had dropped to her curls, and she was touching herself, the way she’d done against the tree the morning he’d pinned her, and she’d taken control of his body and heart so thoroughly.

  When I touch myself, I imagine ‘tis yer hands on my body.

  Against the skin of her navel, he grinned.

  Well, ye dinnae have to imagine any longer, lass.

  When his lips reached her curls, her thighs parted, dropping apart willingly. He kissed the smooth skin at the inside of one thigh, his nose filled with her musky, perfect scent.

  And when he dragged his tongue up her wet slit, her arse bucked off the ground violently.

  He lifted his head just long enough to blow across her sensitive bud, and say in a soothing tone, “Shh, lass. Let me love ye.”

  In response, she moaned and seemed to melt into the ground, so he took her reaction as approval and lowered his lips to her core once more. This time though, he used the pad of his thumb against the nub of her pleasure, as he slid first one finger, then two, inside her heated inner core.

  Was she even aware of how her hips gyrated under his ministrations? Did she hear the erotic little mewls of pleasure she was making?

  And then he felt her muscles tightening around his fingers, and knew she was ready. He dragged one palm up the inside of her thigh as he closed his lips around the pearl hidden within her soft brown curls…and grinned in satisfaction as she found her release.

  “Dunc!” Skye cried hoarsely, her stomach muscles tightening so intensely, she almost sat up involuntarily as she pulsed around his fingers.

  She was panting as hard as he was, and he knew he was in danger of ruining another plaid,, if he spilled atop this one.

  But he desperately needed to be inside her.

  Surging up to his knees, he planted his weight on one palm on the ground near her head, and before she’d even fully relaxed from her orgasm, he caught her gaze. “Skye…”

  Her chest was still heaving, but she reached up and placed her hands on his upper arms, tugging at him. “Please, Duncan…stop teasing me and make me yers!”

  St. Simon, could she tempt him any further?

  He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to breathe—and think—normally. “Skye, I cannae,” he managed. “I came here to tell ye something.”

  I love ye.

  Why could he no’ just blurt it out?

  Marry me, lass.

  Why were those words so hard?

  Because every single drop of blood no’ currently keeping ye alive, is making yer cock too hard to think.

  Ah. Well, ‘twas an explanation at least.

  And then, to his surprise, he felt her ankle hook around the back of his thigh, pulling him forward. He might’ve kept his balance, except the other leg joined the first, and her legs were then around him, tight, and yanking him forward.

  Giving up the fight, he reached for his cock to guide it to her entrance.

  I should’ve told her I loved her first.

  * * *

  Skye knew she wasn’t thinking coherently, but that was aright. She’d just experienced the most intense climax of her life, and that was just from Duncan’s tongue. She couldn’t even imagine what his cock would feel like!

  Luckily, she wouldn’t have to imagine long, because she knew what she wanted, and would make damn sure she got it.

  As she lifted her arse cheeks off the plaid, she briefly wondered what he’d intended to tell her that day. Mayhap something about—

  Oh!

  When he entered her, she couldn’t help the way she froze, the stretching sensation more than she’d expected. He was a big man—big all over—and while she was no wilting violet, she still needed a moment to adjust.

  “Skye? Love?”

  As always, his low growl sent her stomach fluttering. Only this time, she suspected it had to do with a lot more than his voice.

  It wasn’t until she opened her eyes, she realized she’d closed them. He held himself still, supporting himself on his hands, planted on either side of her.

  She swallowed and forced herself to exhale, to relax. Her hands were still on his upper arms, and now she slid her palms along his skin, reaching his shoulders, and then his neck, in a loving caress.

  “Are ye in pain, love?”

  The concern in his voice did more to alleviate her discomfort than anything else. That, and the knowledge he’d waited, had remained frozen in place, when it was clear he’d much rather be moving. She could feel the coiled tension in his shoulders and body.

  Slowly, she inhaled and exhaled again, allowing her body to adjust to his. Then she tightened her legs around his hips.

  That must’ve been the only encouragement he’d needed, because with a wicked little twitch of his brow, he flexed his pelvis in one swift movement, pushing into her fully, before retreating just slightly.

  Inhaling sharply through her nose, her eyes widened.

  That had felt…good.

  Delightful even.

  Almost as good as she’d hoped.

  But how could it compare to the release she’d just experienced?

  Intrigued, but also not certain she was ready to commit further, Skye cast
about for something to say.

  What had he mentioned?

  Oh, aye.

  “Ye said ye—”

  Before the words were even out of her mouth, he flexed again, driving his thick member into her deeply, then out again.

  How could such a slight movement cause her insides to go all squishy?

  He was watching her intently, as if he were interested in what she’d been saying.

  “Ye had something to ask—”

  This time she bit off her words with a gasp, because he’d pulled almost all the way out of her, then slid back in, and—Blessed Virgin—but that had felt wonderful.

  “Again!” she rasped.

  With a grin, he did.

  And then again, and a third time. By the fourth time, he’d dropped his chin to his chest with a groan, and was no longer looking at her.

  And God forgive her, but watching him in the throes of pleasure was almost as arousing as the way he was making her feel physically.

  The veins in his neck stood out, as if he were holding himself under tight rein. And the careful, controlled thrusts he was making felt nice, for certes, but there was something in his movement which hinted at much more.

  “Duncan,” she finally gasped, and when his gaze snapped up, she licked her lips. “Ye said— Oh God!” He was watching her, but hadn’t halted his careful strokes, in and out of her wetness. “Ye said ye’d come to ask me— Duncan!”

  “Ye like that, lass?”

  Unbidden, her legs tightened around his hips. “Ye ken I do. Do it again.” This time, the strength of his thrust pushed her arse into the ground. “Aye, please!”

  Once more, then a pained look showed in his eyes. “I cannae hurt ye, love.”

  Her fingernails dug into the skin on the backs of his shoulders. “Ye could nae hurt me. Please…!”

  She wasn’t even sure what she was pleading for. All she knew was, the pressure was building inside her again, and she hated the idea of him keeping control, when she couldn’t.

  Not when it came to him and the way he made her feel.

  “Lass,” he began, but she used her grip on him to pull him forward, to silence his protests with her lips.

  And that was all the encouragement he needed.

  He growled against her mouth, then clasped one hand to her hip and rolled, taking her with him. Suddenly, she found herself straddling him, her knees on either side of his hips.

  Unwilling to remain plastered against him, she pushed herself upright, mimicking his pose from a moment ago. The ring on its silk ribbon swung between her breasts. Just as she opened her mouth to ask what she needed to do, he settled his hands on her hips.

  “Hold yer weight, love,” he commanded.

  When he planted his heels and thrust upward, settling deeply inside her, Skye’s eyes widened at the sensation. This was different from before, but just as perfect. She lowered her head, braced her weight on her hands, and spread her knees even farther, as he slammed upward, again and again.

  It was magnificent.

  In moments, unwilling to remain passive, she was rocking back and forth atop him, meeting him thrust for thrust. The pressure had built to an almost unbearable level, and she began panting, with her eyes squeezed shut and her lips open.

  Was he enjoying himself as much as she was?

  As soon as she could wrench her attention away from the glorious friction he was creating within her, she’d ask him. Just as soon as—

  What had they been saying?

  “Lass,” he panted, “I think…I should…tell ye…”

  His words were punctuated by his thrusts, and she groaned with pleasure, tilting her head to one side.

  “Aye?” she managed, forcing her eyes open.

  “The reason…I came here— St. Simon, bless me!”

  He was so close. She could feel him swelling within her, the way he’d swelled in her hand that morning in the woods. Keeping her gaze on him, she marveled she had the power to do this to him.

  The knowledge she’d brought him to pleasure once again was enough to cause her inner muscles to clench tightly, and he groaned.

  “Marry me, Skye,” he rasped, his eyes flying open. “Be my wife.”

  Her eyes widened. “What!”

  But he hadn’t stilled. Instead, he reached between their joined bodies and dragged his callused thumb across her bud. The sensation was more than she could ignore, and with a shudder, her climax burst over her.

  Skye’s limbs seemed to liquify, but he kept the steady pressure on the point of her pleasure as he grabbed her hip with his other hand and drove into her once, twice, thrice!

  And then, with a roar, he thrust upward and held the position. Vaguely, through her own release, she felt warmth flooding her womb, and in that moment, Skye knew Duncan had made her his.

  Despite the shock of his question, she couldn’t deny the perfection of the feeling.

  Chapter 9

  Still breathing heavily, Duncan untangled his arms, but only just long enough to wrap them around her and draw her close. He was still lodged inside her and was unwilling to lose their connection so soon.

  Taking it as a good sign when she willingly tucked her head under his chin and pressed her cheek to his chest, he concentrated on controlling his body’s reaction to her.

  St. Simon’s left bollock, but she’d bewitched him!

  Skye MacIan was wild and willful and wonderful, and she did something to his heart and body he couldn’t deny.

  “I love ye,” he whispered, brushing his lips across her shoulder.

  She stiffened at his words, but at least she didn’t pull away when she said against his skin, “ ’Tis a hell of a time to admit that.”

  He couldn’t help his smile, knowing what she meant. “I’m no’ just saying that because of the mind-altering sex we just had.”

  She was quiet for a moment, then hummed. “Mind-altering, eh?”

  He could make a joke, but instead, told her, “Being with ye is what being in Heaven must feel like, lass.”

  When she straightened her arms and pushed herself up off his chest, his softening member slid from her, and they both winced. She didn’t speak, but just stared down at him.

  “Skye?”

  “I think that is the most wonderful thing anyone has ever said to me, Dunc,” she said in a serious tone.

  He matched the sincerity, when he replied, “ ’Tis true. ‘Tis why I journeyed to MacIan land.”

  “To tell me I’m Heavenly?”

  He dragged a hand down her back to rest on her hip and resisted the urge to make a quip about her heavenly body. “To tell ye I love ye.”

  Her blue eyes narrowed. “And ye want me to be yer wife?”

  It was her tone which had him wincing. “Ach, well, I was going to ask yer brother for yer hand, before I realized ye were the one whose approval I needed most.” Hopeful, he smiled up at her. “Will ye be mine, Skye?”

  “Because ye need a wife? Because yer father says ye must marry?”

  It wasn’t the response he’d expected when he proposed marriage to a woman.

  Of course, he’d never actually expected to be proposing marriage to a woman, so what in damnation did he know?

  And…she was still waiting for an answer.

  He swallowed, suddenly wishing he wasn’t so distracted by her naked tits dangling right above his mouth.

  “I…” He shook his head. “Da’s demand took me by surprise, I’ll admit. I didnae intend on complying, because I have nae interest in being a laird.”

  “And I have nae interest in being a laird’s wife.”

  With a little scoff, she swung one leg over him, kneeling at his side, as the ring swung on its ribbon against her skin. He nearly groaned in disappointment when her body left his, but was pleased again when she leaned against his hip, obviously not ready to abandon him altogether.

  Before he could reply to her bold statement, she pulled her hair over one shoulder and began to braid it in what looked
to be a nervous gesture. “Ye said ye wanted a wife who would be content with only ye, remember? A little cottage beside yer forge?”

  How could he forget? He’d fallen asleep that night believing she wouldn’t share a life such as that with him.

  Now, with his heart in his throat, he croaked, “Aye. I said if I married, I wanted a wife who could share that life with me. I’m no’ ready to be a father, no’ if it means a clan’s responsibilities are to be thrust upon my shoulders.”

  She hummed, and her gaze drifted to the tree behind his head where the horses were still tethered.

  “I have nae objection to children in general, but I never saw much need for them in my life.”

  Slowly, Duncan blew out a controlled breath.

  Was she…agreeing with him?

  “Skye, love…” How to say it? “I ken ye have nae reason to love me.” Still, he couldn’t forget her casual admission, as she’d pulled him down to the plaid. “And that night, when I held ye as ye slept, I thought…”

  By St. Simon’s elbow, was it always going to be this hard to discuss his feelings?

  Shaking his head, he pushed himself upright, shivering a little as a cool summer breeze swept over his skin, still slick with sweat from their lovemaking.

  “Ye thought what?” Skye pushed.

  With a muttered curse, he dragged his fingers through his hair and propped one elbow on the knee he’d dragged forward. She’d straightened as he sat up, and had shifted, until she now sat cross-legged beside him, her fingers still trying to tame her hair.

  Her eyes were on him, but Duncan figured it would be easier to have a deeper conversation if he weren’t looking at her, so he focused on the sway of the wildflowers in the gentle breeze.

  “I thought…” He swallowed again. “I thought I wanted a biddable wife. One who’d be content with me. I thought a lass like ye—ye’re a highwayman, for fook’s sake!—was too wild and impulsive to be happy with someone as boring as myself.”

  He paused, hoping she’d deny his words, or even acknowledge them if it was the truth. But when she remained silent, he realized he was going to have to ask her directly.