My Prize

by Sahara Kelly

  Moving with intent, he had her flipped and on her back before she could do more than squeak.

  "But Rory, I hadn't finished—"

  "No, mebbe not. But I nearly did." Rory closed his eyes for a second, trying for control. "Now, lass. It's my turn to explore..."

  She lay next to him, quiet, wondering, waiting for his touch. Her gaze was full of curiosity and something else, something warm and intense that found its way down secret pathways to his heart. The blue skies were no brighter than the blue of her eyes as she watched him, ready for whatever he was going to do, and welcoming it, trusting him to touch her and bring her pleasure.

  It was the knowledge that she trusted him, that made him offer up a silent prayer. He prayed that he could do this one thing better than he'd ever done it before. That he would find inspiration, knowledge and patience.

  That he would make her cry out his name in the midst of feelings the likes of which she'd never imagined existed.

  He promised himself that he'd make this a unique experience for both of them.

  With that prayer in his mind and his vow deep in his heart, Rory leaned over his woman and touched his lips to hers.

  Chapter 10

  The sun dazzled Boralle and so did Rory. His eyes had never seemed so green and alive as they did when he lowered his head to taste her.

  She arched to meet him, loving the way his lips smoothed across hers before urging her mouth open and allowing his tongue to penetrate. She knew his taste now and welcomed it. She knew the heat she'd feel as he kissed her, and welcomed that too.

  What she didn't expect was the searing flame that erupted on her skin as he pressed his naked body against hers. She tried to gasp as his chest brushed her breasts, but his mouth continued to devour her.

  Her head swam as a hand swept over her skin and found her nipple, gently rubbing it and then withdrawing only to return and rub again.

  Her body writhed as she felt his solid thighs move against hers, urging her legs apart and slipping between them to press against her swelling flesh, and spreading her juices around with a firmly muscled thrust.

  His hand slipped behind her and down, grasping her buttocks and pulling her hard against him.

  His cock pressed solidly onto the softness of her belly, hot and hard, and she moaned, wanting him more than she could have imagined.

  His hands squeezed, stroked, and squeezed again, making her cheeks tingle with pleasure and yearn for more. He slipped his fingers down her cleft, teasing again with little flutters and reaching a place where the nerve endings were plentiful and surprisingly sensitive.

  She cried out as his fingers caressed her there, spreading her thighs even more. His lips wrenched away from hers and allowed her to breathe, but only for a moment, as he timed his unexpected touches with the lowering of his mouth to her breast.

  Boralle's mind blanked. Rory's tongue was doing incredibly amazing things to her nipple, which had suddenly decided to register every little movement as an earthquake-like tremor between her legs. His fingers never let up their teasing of her tight little ring of muscles and she found herself moaning with need under the double onslaught.

  She could feel her honey running over his thigh now, and shamelessly she rubbed her clit against his skin. Nothing mattered but getting her satisfaction. She was one helpless quivering pile of need.

  But there was more.

  He released her breast and blew on it, making her gasp as his warm breath cooled the moisture. His fingers left the crack of her buttocks and traced downwards, sliding through her liquid and playing with the swollen tissues he encountered on his way.

  Before she realized it, she was flat on her back again, and his hair was brushing her stomach. His tongue was also brushing her stomach and she wondered if it was possible to die from too much pleasure.

  If it was, she figured she was about due for a casket.

  A portion of her mind stepped aside and reminded her of the soft-skinned inhabitants of Rutha Nine. It was said that their mating frenzy was the most incredible ever recorded in the galaxy. Unfortunately, one out of four females did not survive, and the males were usually seriously injured. The fact that the race continued to reproduce had always puzzled Boralle.

  Now she understood.

  If the Ruthans felt anything like she felt at this moment, no wonder they were prepared to put their lives on the line.

  Rory's head had moved further down, and he was now nearing her command and control center.

  She felt the light touch of his mouth on her naked mound and sobbed a choked cry as his tongue tentatively licked her labia.

  Oh Gods. This was beyond anything she could ever have imagined.

  Warm and wet, his tongue seemed like a life form all its own. It managed to stroke and caress and tease all at the same time. It plunged into her deepest caverns and hunted out her most sensitive places. It found her clit, hiding beneath its protective hood, and played with it, making it hard and tingling and encouraging it to stand proud and ready for the ultimate experience.

  He traced the grooves in her skin where her legs met her body, and licked right back up to tease her swollen flesh yet again.

  Then, without preamble, Rory plunged his face into her body, thrusting his tongue deep inside her.

  She screamed with the joy of it.

  He pulled back, letting his head rest on her thighs as he stroked her, letting her clit relax a little.

  "Rory...I want...I need..." She shifted her hips helplessly.

  "I know, lass. But not yet. 'Tis all the better for the wanting, I reckon," he growled, his cock hard as marble against her leg.

  "I can't stand it," she moaned.

  "Yes you can, Boralle. Yes you can."

  He sincerely hoped he'd judged her correctly on this one. He'd taken her as far as he dared, now she had to drop back a wee bit before her next climb.

  He'd never have tried this on a virgin, but her sexual experience, although limited to the mechanical, gave her enough control to hold on. He hoped.

  With a wicked smile, he reached over her body and snapped off a small branch of heather from a patch growing near their sheltered spot. The leaves were budding but had yet to soften into their full growth, making the short branches rough and a little spiky.

  He saw her eyes open wide as he brushed the plant across her belly.

  "Wha...wha...?" she mumbled.

  "'Tis the kiss of the heather, lass. A Scotsman will do this to his woman to keep her awake, and ready for him."

  He brushed her mound with the prickly leaves and she shivered.

  "Rory, if I was any more awake and ready for you, I'd be within nanoseconds of detonation," she hissed back.

  "That's good. That's where I want you," he answered. He stroked her breasts with the heather.

  She hissed at the strange sensation, and Rory increased the pressure a little, trying to achieve that delicate balance between pleasure and pain. Her hips squirmed and she arched her back, thrusting herself against the heather and silently telling him of her need.

  "Time for the kiss of the Laird, I think."

  Boralle's eyebrow rose, and she dashed sweat away from her face with her arm, heaving a deep breath.

  Her eyes widened as his hand reached for his sword.

  "Dear God, what are you...Rory, what..." With a look of astonishment she raised herself up on one elbow.

  A wicked smile crossed his lips.

  "Spread your legs wide, my love," he urged. He knelt and pulled her thighs even further apart.

  "I...what..." She did as she was bid, not taking her eyes off the massive broadsword that rested on Rory's equally massive thigh.

  "The Laird's sword is his right arm. His badge of honor. It's the standard for his clan to rally around, and the sign of his leadership. It's the single most important piece of property he'll ever own as Laird. Next to his woman."

  He reached down and picked up his sword, grasping it just beneath the hilt, and before the razor shar
p blade flattened into deadly steel.

  He rested the handle on Boralle's mound.

  "My sword and my life are yours, Boralle." He said the words softly, letting them fall into the suddenly still air of their little glen. "With ma sword I touch your body..." He pressed the pommel into her clit making her squirm, "...and with ma sword I touch our bairns that will come..." He gently opened her with his fingers and slipped the hilt of his sword into her.

  Boralle sucked in a breath and held it as the cool metal entered her body. He knew she would feel the hardness with every single aroused inch of her sweet wet cunny. His fingers gently found her clit and circled it, as her eyes closed and a moan squeezed from her lungs.

  Gently, he withdrew his sword, shining now with her slippery juices.

  "And with my sword I pledge my heart unto you. Only you." He brought the sword to his lips and kissed it, licking her liquids from it with his tongue.

  "I take you into my body, Boralle, as you will take me into yours."

  He had no idea why he was doing this. These vows were sacred vows to a Laird of the McAllen clan. He had no idea if he'd ever be able to make good on this pledge. He also didn't know if she understood the significance of his words.

  None of it mattered.

  Here, underneath the scudding clouds of a perfect Scottish day, Rory McAllen was about to claim his woman.

  Her blue eyes were full of emotion as he raised himself over her. Perhaps the significance of his little ceremony was not lost on her after all.

  "Rory," she whispered, "Rory..."

  "I know, lass."

  He reached for himself, never looking away from her gaze. "Keep your eyes on me, lass. I want to watch you as I take you...love you..."

  Carefully, he placed the head of his now aching cock at the opening to her body. It was hot and ready, greeting his hardness with honeyed drops of welcome.

  Slowly, so slowly, Rory slid into Boralle's cunt.

  He watched her eyes as he pushed deeper. They lost focus and glazed, the blue darkening to a stormy sky as her body accepted his.

  He shifted his weight and sank to his length inside her.

  He was home.

  Boralle's breath left her body as she felt him enter and fill her so completely. Her experience with the TUNG systems had been fulfilling and satisfactory. She'd orgasmed regularly and considered herself experienced.

  It had been almost completely nothing like this.

  Her belly felt full of Rory. Her body flexed and rippled as it accommodated his hard length inside the soft mass of silk covered muscles.

  His face loomed over her, red hair fiery in the sunlight, eyes as green as the neon clouds over Probius Epsilon Nine.

  His gaze pinned her and held her motionless for those first few seconds as he easily slid the entire length of his massive cock into her receptive body. It was an amazing feeling, compounded by the expression in his eyes as he pushed himself further and finally nestled his balls against her.

  "Are you all right, Boralle?" he breathed, holding himself still above her.

  "Define 'all right,'" she whispered back, something driving her to tighten her inner muscles around him, holding him exactly where he was.

  He groaned as he felt her movements. "Yessss," he hissed, "you're all right."

  A smile spread over her face, curving her lips. She could see her face reflected in his eyes. It was the face of a woman loving her man.

  His expression changed a little, darkening, as he raised his hips and pulled away from her.

  She gasped and reached for him, not wanting to lose this wonderful new sensation that was warming her cunt and filling her mind so fully.

  "I'm not leaving you, love," he said, "it's just beginning."

  "What? What's just begin...oooh..."

  Boralle's question was cut off as Rory plunged back into her body. His powerful thighs helped him as he set up a rhythm, slow to start, but then increasing in speed and intensity.

  Her breath began to keep pace with his thrusts, almost as if his cock beat against her lungs as well as her womb, her spleen, one kidney and possibly her eardrums.

  She felt as if she was overflowing with Rory McAllen.

  He dipped his head and sucked a nipple, adding yet another sensory shock to her system.

  She gasped. Her mind was spinning now, free-falling into some wild, gravity-free environment where rational thought clung upside down by its toenails to the ceiling and insanity beckoned seductively through an open door.

  Rory's body took hers, seizing it, demanding it respond, allowing no quarter from the pounding and thrusting of his cock.

  Sweat soaked his hair and made it cling damply to his cheeks, and she felt her own body awash in moisture. Her sweat, his sweat, her juices, all were blending, mixing, melding into one sensual soup that could support them as they swam to completion.

  His mouth gave her breasts no relief either. Just when one was aroused to the point of pain, Rory would pull his lips away and move to the other, starting the process all over again.

  His cock was stretching her to an amazingly wonderful limit. It was so completely unlike the TUNG machine, that she wondered if the designers had ever actually been fucked by a human. Then he slipped a hand between their bodies, groped for her clit, and Boralle lost all capability for rational thought.

  As his hips pounded her, his hand teased her. His fingers found her sensitive bud of tissue and flicked it, circling it in time with his thrusts.

  He slid his other hand beneath her hips and raised his body away from her, angling her so that he could penetrate as deep as it was possible for him to go.

  She could swear he was touching her soul.

  "Look at me, Boralle. Look at me." His words percolated through her aroused turmoil and she realized she'd closed her eyes.

  Obedient to his command, she opened them.

  He held her against him as he took her, one strong arm beneath her hips, and the other between her legs.

  "Slip your feet up behind me, love," he said, tugging her even closer.

  Lost in his lovemaking, Boralle blindly followed his directions, letting her ankles cross behind his back. She found she could pull him closer, and loved the feel of his cock as she helped him plunge even deeper.

  His finger had found her most sensitive spot and her gasps became more like sobs. Air, it seemed, was getting scarce, and her lungs were starving.

  "Come for me, Boralle. Let's take that leap. Watch me, we'll go together."

  Scarcely knowing what he was saying, Boralle writhed, hands grasping plaids, ruffles, grass, heather, anything that was near. She moaned aloud, letting her sounds drift on the soft Highland breezes.

  Rory's grunts matched hers, and she could feel his body tense between her legs.

  The sounds of their lovemaking were extraordinary, and added to the amazing overload of sensations that were winding Boralle up like a clock.

  Or a bomb. About to explode.

  Her world narrowed down to a pair of blazing green eyes and her clit which was now electrified and shivering beneath Rory's fingers and the rapid pounding of his body against hers.

  "Boralle...let it come..." gasped Rory. "Noooowww..."

  He threw his head back and cried out, pressing so deep inside her she lost track of where he ended and she began.

  Then, she felt it. His cock throbbed inside her, and she could feel it. Life was flowing from him to her, he was emptying himself into her body.

  Her buttocks tingled. Her thighs tensed.

  Her clit stretched to the point of pain.

  As her existence exploded, she screamed.

  Every single piece of molecular matter that was Boralle North went nova at the same moment.

  For several microseconds she lost consciousness, floating on a pulsing cloud of sensation. Then she opened her eyes again to find her body shrieking its release.

  Her cunt was spasming in a frenzy, trying to grab hold of Rory's cock and suck it into the next quad
rant. Or milk it dry. Or something.

  Her breasts felt like they'd tripled in size, her lungs were useless, and her mouth was hanging open, emitting strange whimpering sounds. Her legs had locked around Rory's hips like docking clamps. It was quite obvious that the spacecraft known as Boralle North wasn't going anywhere for quite a while.

  As if watching a datavid, Boralle saw her body continue to orgasm. The trembling pulses showed no signs of slowing down.

  She pulled in a rough breath, gasping, as she watched Rory watch her come.

  He pushed, a little more, against her screaming clit.

  It started again.

  "Oh mercy," she shuddered. Another orgasm tore through her, rocking her all the way to her feet and sending fierce cramps through her thighs. "Rory," she screamed, unaware now of anything but him.

  "Hang on, lass," he choked, thrusting once more, and following her movements as her hips bucked beneath him.

  "No more," she sobbed, her strength sapped, her cunt twitching and her legs rapidly turning into overcooked pasta.

  "No more. Not right now," he sighed.

  Gently he lowered her back to the ground, following her down, as if hesitant to withdraw his body from hers.

  Her legs unlocked and she sucked in a sigh of relief as her cramped muscles eased away from his hips.

  His mouth touched hers. "Boralle, my lass," he whispered, letting his lips brush her sweaty face. "Ah, Boralle."

  He raised his hips slightly and let his now-softening cock slide free.

  A cloud of blue fog gushed from her body, making him cough a little.

  Boralle would have enjoyed examining the phenomenon, but Rory had pulled himself up beside her and was cradling her in his arms.

  Scientific investigation and phenomena could wait.

  She'd rather cuddle.

  Chapter 11

  Boralle awoke to the most terrible sound she could possibly ever have imagined. In fact, it was so terrible she couldn't have imagined it. It had to be real.

  Sitting up with a sudden rush, she looked for Rory.

  Oh God. He was being attacked.