by Laurel Adams
She meant the way she found herself wedged between the two men’s bodies at the table. The way an insistent pulse between her legs pounded with more urgency the further down the candle burned, the later into the night it went. But Davy replied, “Can’t say a kind thing about your father. T’would be disloyal to the laird. But you must be missing home. And we’ll get word to your mother of your safety as soon as we can. She must be worried for you.”
“She died long ago,” Arabella explained. “Childbirth, it was.”
Davy’s smile faded away. “Dangerous business, that. Taking up a sword and battling an enemy takes courage. But to bring forth a squalling infant into the world…” Davy shook his head as if it sounded terrifying.
And Malcolm readily agreed. “I’d have liked a bairn. A whole houseful of them. But when I think about it now, it’s of some consolation to me that Lorna and I weren’t married long enough for me to put her through such a thing.”
“Which is why I should take your maidenhead,” Davy said, to Arabella, smirking. “If you should still want to give it, that is. Less of a risk with me than with him.”
“More chance that he’ll bungle it, though,” Malcolm said, stonily. “Davy can be a clumsy clod, whereas I’m the best swordsman in the clan.”
And she knew he was not talking about swords.
While Arabella burned with embarrassment—would she ever be inured to it?—she worried that the resentment and competition between the two of them was already starting. They hadn’t even done the deed they were musing about. “Gentlemen, I can scarcely give my consent if you’re to bicker about it.”
“Look what you’ve done now,” Malcolm scolded Davy.
To which Davy’s eyes bulged. “It’s not bickering lass. It’s all in good fun.”
“I’m not so sure,” Arabella said, finding her voice though she couldn’t meet their eyes. “I know how men are. They want the pride of taking a woman’s maidenhead so they can possess her, own her, control her and always know that they were first. That’s how the laird was with my sister. That’s what he wanted from her. So even if I were to give myself to you both and be shared, I’d still have to give myself to one of you first.”
Malcolm crossed his arms.
Davy stroked his chin.
Then, at almost the same moment, they both said, “Not necessarily.”
Chapter Eight
“Do you need us to draw it for you?” Davy asked, while Arabella stared, dumbfounded at what the men described to her.
And while she sputtered, Malcolm’s hungry gaze fell upon her, and he confidently declared, “It will be a tight fit, but can be done.”
“No,” Arabella said, a denial, rather than a refusal.
Davy moved closer to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, his breath warm on her cheek. “Think of it, lass,” he said, peering at her intently. “We’d make you ready, very ready for it. Stroke you until you were wet and pleading. Malcolm behind you. Me in front of you. Then on your go, we’d both thrust up inside you. Together.”
Arabella’s heart skipped a beat at this kind of talk.
Her belly flip-flopped.
Her blood turned to warm syrup.
“But won’t it hurt very much?” she whispered, more of a whimper, really.
“Breaching your maidenhead will hurt anyway,” Malcolm said, matter-of-factly, putting a hand at the nape of her neck. “This will hurt much more. But we’ll make it worth it.”
She suddenly had very little doubt about that. With each of these men on either side of her, she could only remember the pleasure of the night before, laying in bed between them. And she wanted that again. She wanted it so badly. And exhilarated by the possibility, she began to see every surface in the cottage as somewhere she might like to sprawl beneath them. The table, the floor, the bed in the room beyond. She was dizzied by the possibilities.
She was so aroused, she thought she might be going a bit mad.
“Take me to bed,” she whispered, then delighted at the men’s reactions.
Davy nearly purred against her ear. And Malcolm’s hand tightened on the nape of her neck. They had her consent to it, to everything.
She didn’t quite remember how they actually got to the bed. Surely, Malcolm hobbled there, wounded as he was. And she would have remembered if Davy carried her there. And yet, it felt as if she floated to the bedroom where the two men waited for her with hungry eyes.
Reaching for her with deft fingers, they had her naked in moments, their heated gazes traveling the length of her curves, making her appreciate her own body in a way she never had before. Malcolm bent forward to kiss the small of her back while Davy stroked a hand down her belly, with a low whistle. And before she could object, he grasped her sex in the big palm of his hand—a thing so surprising that her knees nearly buckled. “Oh!”
“Easy, Davy, or you’ll send her sprawling,” Malcolm said, pulling his own shirt off and throwing it to the floor. Then his plaid went off too, as he made himself entirely naked to her. At the sight of him—his rippling muscles, the dark thatch of hair upon his chest…and that same proud spire she’d seen before, only this time throbbing and sticky with dew—her knees nearly buckled again.
Oh, Lord, but he was a beautiful creature, and she wanted him, whatever that entailed. And what it entailed was a bit of caution, so as not to re-open his wound. Using his arms and his good leg, he positioned himself on the bed. Arabella and Davy followed, and she found herself between the two men as before. But this time, they were more insistent.
Malcolm reached between her legs and said, “Open up for us, lass.”
She began to spread her knees, but Davy said, “Wider.”
She opened them as wide as she could, until it ached. Arabella felt the rush of air upon her most private parts, and then the questing fingers of Malcolm, exploring her folds, and the little spot between them that made her yelp. She felt a rush of wetness between her legs, which prompted Davy to say, “That’s it, lass, we’re going to make you nice and slippery now. I want to kiss your pretty pink nether lips.”
Arabella shivered, beyond a place of coherent thought. She hadn’t known anyone would kiss a woman there. But Davy crawled down her body, raining a trail of kisses in his wake until his tongue darted out to touch the same spot Malcolm had found. “Oh!” Arabella cried, her back arching.
Malcolm plucked at her nipples, forcing her to moan into his mouth. Not knowing what else to do with her hands, she reached down for Malcolm’s shaft and stroked it, just as he’d shown her how to do before. She loved the feel of it. The weight of it in her hand. The uncompromising hardness of it. It was a part of him she wanted to satisfy. A part of him she wanted to please. He must have known it, because he pulled her into a kiss.
All the while, Davy gave her a different kind of kiss, between her legs, that nearly undid her. He kissed, and licked, and blew upon her downy fur until goosebumps raced up and down her skin. “Your pussy is so hot and tastes so good, Arabella. Sweet as honey.”
These words embarrassed her, but made her more excited too.
“I think you’re teasing me,” she accused him.
“I’m going to keep teasing until you can’t stand it,” Davy promised, hoisting her knees over his shoulders, and burying his face between her legs. He wriggled that tongue in a way that made her gasp. He pressed his hot tongue flat against her sex in a way that made everything tighten inside her like a rope about to snap. And he flicked his tongue back and forth until she began to undulate.
Trembling with an unfulfilled need that she couldn’t quite understand, she whispered, “Oh, I need…I need…I don’t know what I need but I need it.”
“We know what you need,” Malcolm promised, narrowing his eyes.
Davy lifted his head from between her legs, and grinned a gleaming, wicked grin. “But you canna have it yet.” He said this even as his fingers softly probed her opening, pushing into the channel only a little ways. “There it is…”
“Your maidenhead. I’ve never felt one before.”
“Because you’re a whoremonger,” Malcolm said, gruffly, then turned his attention back to Arabella, slowly thrusting his hips in time with the stroke of her hand on his shaft. “That feels very good, lass.”
“I want it to,” she said, a frantic hitch in her voice. “I want to please you so badly.”
“You are,” Malcolm told her. “You’re pleasing us both.”
Davy had her hips in his hands, her sex at his mercy, his tongue wriggling its way against her maidenhead, making her wet. So wet. So ready.
“Please,” Arabella, pleaded, though she wasn’t sure why.
At the sound of her begging, Davy sat up, and stripped off his clothes. Whereas Malcolm’s body was all lean sinew and iron, with scars in various places, Davy’s was fleshy and strong and relatively unmarked. A body that made her mouth water, as if she somehow wanted to devour him, freckles and all.
“Lass, would you consider using your mouth on me?” Davy asked, fisting his hard penis and rubbing it quite near to her face.
Arabella hesitated, only because she didn’t know what to do.
“Kneel up and suck his cock,” Malcolm instructed.
And that was enough of a command to make her do as he said. Though her body was near boneless with sexual need, she rolled over, onto her hands and knees while Davy stood at the edge of the bed. She trailed her fingertips down his flat, muscular belly in a motion that made him quiver.
In a moment, she pressed a kiss to the pulsing head of his shaft, and gloried in his answering moan. Then she sealed her mouth over the throbbing knob of Davy’s member, delighting in the salty taste of it. In the smooth skin that slipped between her lips. In the growl of appreciation Davy made as he pushed slowly all the way to the back of her throat.
Arabella looked up at Davy then, and he smiled down at her with a feral glint in his eye, as if the sight of her with her mouth full of him was enough to make him climax on the spot. His hand went to her hair, grasping a handful of it.
Meanwhile, from behind, she felt Malcolm’s finger slowly work its way into her channel. In and out, he pushed the wetness, and pulled the wetness, until he finally smeared it back between her cheeks to the puckered place she could not imagine any man would touch.
“I’m going to fuck you here,” Malcolm promised.
She could not argue. She was too busy sucking on Davy. And she wouldn’t have argued with anything Malcolm said he would do to her, truthfully. But she was glad that Davy explained, “After we take your maidenhead, I’m going to fill your cunny and he’s going to take your arse. Bury himself deep. Fill you up where there’ll be no risk of children. But you’ll need to be very wet for him, lass. Wet for us both. Slippery as oil.”
She was wet for them and his blunt words brought about another gush of arousal from between her legs, which Malcolm used to ease his thumb into her back passage. Arabella stiffened, but he whispered, “Relax, lass. Give yourself over to us.”
That is what she wanted to do. So Arabella closed her eyes and centered herself on the sensations. Upon the turgid member shifting in and out of her mouth. Upon Davy’s hips pushing against her face, his coppery pubic hair tickling her nose. Upon Malcom’s thumb popping through some ring of flesh, causing discomfort, but not pain.
Of course, the sinfulness of it erased even the discomfort. And Arabella surprised herself by pushing back upon Malcolm’s hand to take more, then pushing forward to take Davy deeper. When this movement caused a groan from the man behind her, and then another groan from the man in front of her, she did it again. And again. With utter abandon.
“That’s a naughty little minx,” Davy coaxed her, murmuring endearments. “What a treasure you are.”
Malcolm uttered a filthy curse that was no less delightful for its obscenity. He continued to work his thumb into her tight passage, stroking her backside with plain intention, kneading the flesh there, nipping her hip when she thrust back to take it deeper. Then a different finger worked its way into the other opening, giving her a small preview of what it would be like to take them both at once.
“You are all silky heat,” Malcolm said, as she rubbed herself against him.
He was stretching her. Making her ready. But she was ready, she thought. Because she couldn’t take much more of this. Perhaps Davy knew it, because he withdrew his slick penis from her mouth, and gently pushed her down to the mattress. To Malcolm, he said, “I could have her mount me and you thrust into her from behind, but your wound—”
“I can take her from the side,” Malcolm said, resting upon the hip of his good leg, his bandaged one splayed almost lazily, as if to show off his proud manhood. He made a motion to Arabella, drawing him to her, nestling her bottom tight against his groin.
“Ohhhhh,” Arabella sighed in pleasure at the way Malcolm’s chest hair tickled softly against her back. At the way his swollen cock nestled between her cheeks.
“Do you feel what you do to me, lass?” Malcolm asked, from over her shoulder.
“To both of us,” Davy said, grinning as he slid into the bed beside her, his jutting erection pressing against her belly.
“I do,” she said.“I feel wanted.”
And it was a wonderful feeling.
“How beautiful you are,” Davy told her, pushing hair back behind her ears while Malcolm ran a hand down her hip.
“Don’t be frightened,” Malcolm told her. “Your maidenhead is a stretchy thing, but it will tear when we take you. It will bleed a wee bit and hurt you. Hurt all of us, actually. But then it’s all pleasure.”
She wanted that. Wanted the pleasure. Was willing to bleed to get it. Though Arabella’s mind was buzzing like a hive, her body writhing against the bodies of two strong men, one thing Malcolm said caught her attention above the rest. “Painful for all of us?”
“Aye,” Malcolm rasped. “T’will be tight for us both to fit.”
He would have to push, she realized. With his wounded leg.
“But I don’t want to give you pain,” Arabella cried.
Malcolm held her still, a hand at her hip. “If you’re willing to endure it for us, lass, shouldn’t we be willing to endure it for you?”
If she were a better person, she would argue against it. But Arabella was in such a state now that she could only think of the burning need in her body. A need that flared the moment Davy lifted her leg up and over Malcolm’s hip.
“There may be a bit of clumsiness with all the hands we’ll have in the region,” Davy explained. “And an unfortunate bit of dueling between his manhood and mine as we work into you. Can you be a brave lass?”
Arabella nodded just as Malcolm’s shaft slipped between her slick folds.
A bolt of lust struck her center.
Another followed swiftly after when Davy rubbed the bulbous head of his cock against the nub he had suckled upon earlier that nearly sent her over a cliff of pleasure. “Please, whatever it is you must do, I need you to do it,” Arabella cried, her breathy voice nearing a sob. “I beg of you. I beg of you!”
“You need us to fuck you,” Malcolm said, with a fierce edge of lust.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Arabella said, so far gone that she dared to use the word. “I need you to fuck me. I need it.”
That is what they needed to hear. Malcolm positioned himself at her entrance and Davy did the same. That’s when Arabella began to think it would never work. She did not think she could fit even one of them inside her. Definitely not both. But the men seemed to believe otherwise. They wanted this. She could tell. Davy looked at her with a fierce desire. As if she were the only woman in the world. And Malcolm held her still as if something would break in him if she were to escape his arms.
“Now,” Malcolm said softly.
Together they strained, slowly pushing into her. She felt the pressure. The unbelievable pressure and tried to open to it. Bu
t it was a little opening they were trying to enter, she thought. And they were not small men. It amazed her to think that she was caught between men so powerful that they could crush her with the smallest effort. And yet, both of them held their bodies in restraint, all to please her.
A sweat broke out over Davy’s body as he squeezed his eyes shut.
“Will you mind what you’re doing, Davy?” Malcolm snapped.
“Is it terrible?” she murmured.
Davy chuckled. “No, but I’m feeling more of him than you at the moment, and I’d rather not see that. There are some things the mind cannot forget.”
Arabella began to despair. “Am I doing something wrong?”
Malcolm’s voice rumbled from behind her. “No, lass. We’re trying to go slow. Trying to—”
“Just break it!” Arabella cried.
For the love of God, in that moment, her maidenhead seemed as troublesome a thing as ever existed and she wanted it gone. More precisely, she wanted these men to take it, so that she could enjoy whatever else they might have to offer her.
Davy’s eyes opened again, and he grinned down at her. “We just don’t want to tear you apart, lass. T’would be easier if we took turns—”
“No,” Arabella insisted, more sure than ever that she couldn’t know how to decide which would be the first to have her. They’d have to do it at the same time. “Both, or neither.”
Thankfully, Malcolm understood. He was a man who could be less than gentle when he needed to be. “You tell us when, lass. Say the word, and we will both thrust up into you as hard as we can.”
Perhaps they expected her to dally. Arabella did not. “Now!”
In that moment, two men who were strong enough to batter a door down used their cocks to break her open. She did feel torn apart as both shafts speared up into her and broke her maidenhead. The thrusts of their hips were hard, unforgiving, brutal. It felt as if some giant thing had impaled her. As if she’d been seared by a brand.
It was not a wee bit of pain, but a great deal of it.
She screamed.
