She nodded and squeezed her legs together, grabbing his cock and holding it tight. He moaned and stole a hard, brutal kiss from her lips.
“Then spread your legs.”
He grabbed her hands and stretched them on the counter, then took her hips in his hands, grinding her body against his. Her legs opened without thought, and she lifted toward him. His cock slipped inside easily, gliding through the moisture of her body to find the heat. When he was deep, he tugged her toward him, settling on the stool and pulling her between his legs. The movement forced him deeper.
“Relax against me,” he said. “Lie back.”
She did as he asked, cushioning her head in the curve of his shoulder, her body stretched on his.
“I’ll not be able to move like this,” he said. “If I don’t move, I cannae come, but I’ll feel every move you make.”
“But…”
“Hush,” he said. “I want to feel the tight sweetness of your flesh. Let me do the work. Lie back and enjoy it.”
His hands were calloused, rough, and yet the feeling of his hard hands roaming her flesh intoxicated her. Very slowly they slid over her hip bones, across her belly to the thatch of hair between her legs. He plucked at it softly, teasing her, his finger dipping lower, only to move away as she wiggled. Every time it happened, she felt a flutter deep inside, a yearning for more, a need for him to touch harder, longer. She pressed back against him, forcing his cock deeper and touching something within her that made her tremble.
She wanted his hand to stop the torture, or continue. She didn’t know the difference, but she knew she needed more.
His index finger slid slowly through the small thatch of hair and just as he reached for the tiny place that seemed to be pulsing, he paused.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered. “Touch me.”
“Where?”
“Right…” She lifted slightly and brought his finger closer. There was an intense shock as his finger pressed down. She sighed. “…there.”
His breath fanned her face. “And what shall I do right there?” He lifted his hand, then gently tapped the nub of flesh.
“I don’t know. But it aches. It feels swollen. Rub it, make it stop throbbing.”
“’Tis your clit, Megan. Do you know what happens when the throbbing stops?”
“No.”
“You see a bit of heaven,” he said. “Do you wish to see heaven?”
“Stop talking, Campbell. Just touch me.”
This time his touch wasn’t gentle. His fingers plunged between her legs, and a flash of such an arousing sensation burst through her body, she nearly bolted from his arms. Only his hand held her down. A heat wormed through her body, twisting her nerves to fire. The muscles of her legs lost their strength, and she would have slid off him if she hadn’t been impaled on his cock. It pushed farther into her pussy, and the combination of the throbbing flesh inside her and the movement of his finger against her clit caused waves of flickering pulses through her body.
“Oh, God, Campbell, what is this?”
“The pleasure you’ll deny yourself. Let it go, lass. Feel it. Surrender to it.”
“Do I have a choice?” she gasped.
“Not if I have any say in it.”
A delicious tension coursed through her body, sending vibrations cascading through her flesh, shattering her thoughts, making her forget everything but the warmth of his breath against her hair, the touch of his fingers against her tingling skin. That little spot he rubbed, her clit, kept demanding more, so she wiggled, lifted, arched against his hand and let him give what he seemed to want to give. She took everything he offered, and just when she thought she couldn’t stand one more minute, one more touch, a shockwave spread through her, a cresting pleasure that swept through her with such intensity she didn’t think she would survive.
The tension drained from her body as the swell rolled through her pelvis, pulsing, roaring, beating like the mighty wings of a dragon to escape, and finally it did. Her entire body quivered, trembling under his hands, and still his hand cupped her, moving softly against the nub, demanding she take it all, enjoy every single spasm that tore through her body. She bit her lips to stifle what she thought might be a scream building inside and let the pleasure take her. The muscles inside of her contracted and clutched his cock. Campbell groaned and ground against her bottom.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and pushed her forward. She fell against the counter, and he held her there tight as he rammed his cock harder into her. The pressure, the depth, the movement caused another burst of pleasure, and Megan arched back, pressing her bottom tighter against him, opening, allowing him deeper. Campbell moaned and sank farther.
“I’m going to fuck you now,” he said. “Hard.”
Megan glanced over her shoulder, peering at him through a veil of hair. “How hard?”
Campbell shuddered and grabbed her hips, shoving into her brutally. “Oh, wench, when I’m done fucking you, you’ll never want another cock but mine.”
“Prove it, Campbell.”
Her pelvis slammed against the counter, and he pinned her there as he thrust into her, each time harder, rougher. Megan heard the slap as their flesh smacked together, the moist sounds their bodies made as his cock plunged in and out. She felt the gentle thump of his sack against her swollen flesh and reached between them to cup it gently, allowing it to slide in the wetness between their bodies. A groan tore through him, and his hands tightened around her.
The rhythm of his movements and the thick cock tugging at her flesh brought Megan’s body to another state of arousal. The little nub between her legs pulsed, and though her flesh inside tingled, alive with sensation, she wanted to feel that wave of ecstasy through her entire body. She grabbed his hand and moved it down her body. Eagerly he swept his finger between the swollen lips, searching until she gasped. It only took a moment, and she seemed to explode under his hand, and within another moment, his cock swelled, throbbed, and pulsed, pumping his seed into her in wave after wave as his body tightened against hers. Her muscles clenched against him, milking his cock until it was drained and empty.
And when it was over, reality seemed to crash over her. She wanted to cry.
Slowly he withdrew and turned her in his arms. She tried to move, but he planted his hands against the counter, trapping her.
He smiled. “I’m not finished with you.”
“I have to go in the house now,” she said.
“Not yet,” he said.
He leaned down and nudged his face against hers, his arms sliding around her back. She struggled to wrench herself from the warm arms that held her. He let her go, and she tried to scramble away, but he caught her against him, towering over her, his eyes dark and turbulent, harboring something that scared her to death.
He gathered her face in his hands. “Why are you running? You’ve no reason to fear me now and certainly no reason to be ashamed of what’s happened here.”
She grabbed his hands, tossing them down.
“I’m married, Campbell!”
“Married to a man that I vow will never fuck you like I have.”
“Because he can’t,” she whispered. She stared into his eyes, trapped by the power of them, but found the strength to back away. “It can’t happen again. Please tell me it won’t happen again.”
“I don’t make promises I cannae keep,” he said softly. “I’m going to need to have you again.”
“Oh, no.”
“Do you seek to drive me to delirium, then? Offer enticements I cannae possibly have? Your kisses hold your true feelings, lass, and you cannae lie to me. I can taste your want. My cock’s felt the hot blood between your legs. You wanted to do this. You’re going to want it again.”
The tears came quick to her eyes and seemed to bother him. He watched one slide down her cheek with a curious uncertainty.
“Feelings mean nothing,” she said. “Every day I crush down feelings I can’t afford to have. I’ve a commitme
nt I’m honor bound to uphold.”
Campbell’s eyes blazed with the fire of a burning emerald. He lunged toward her, grabbed her around the waist, and dragged her against him. His hand clutched between her legs, and Megan groaned.
“This means nothing?” he growled. He took her hand and forced it between his legs, curling her fingers around the growing organ in his breeches. “And this? It means nothing as well?”
He pushed her away and paced the length of the counter. She whirled, trying to keep him in her sight because she couldn’t trust him.
“You’ve no answers for me, Mistress Megan. We’ve two healthy, beautiful bodies struggling to come together here. We are in dire need of one another for our release and our sanity. We fit together perfectly, mold together as one being, and will probably find more pleasure than either of us can endure. We might, just might, find everything we’ve been looking for our whole fucking lives.”
She was afraid to answer, but she had to say something. He stared at her with a vehement rage, daring her to disagree. His face darkened with his anger, making his rage a tangible thing that hovered around him like a fog. She took a hesitant step toward him, afraid of touching the fog, but also frightened to let him stay in it alone.
“Campbell, what you want isn’t possible.”
“My name is Alex,” he snarled. “I would have you speak my name. Say it.”
She shook her head. He took two fast steps and plunged his hands into her hair, lifting her face.
“Say it. I want to hear my name on your lips.”
“I won’t,” she whispered.
“Goddamn it, you will say it. I will hear it so I can know you are mine.”
“But I’m not yours,” she whispered.
“Fuck that, Megan. A piece of paper means nothing. You belong to me.”
His mouth crushed against hers, hard, brutal, and so cruel it tore at her soul. She wanted to run and hide, escape from the power of this man’s kiss. Her arms made their own decision and clung tightly to his neck, pulling him closer, locking his mouth tighter against hers. His lips tugged at her mouth, his teeth nipped at the corner of her lip, and his ruthless tongue stole into her mouth and raped her own, forcing her to want to feel the contours of his mouth, to lick at his lips. She could not get enough of his taste, the feel of his soft flesh, the tingling that the pressure and the movement sent in waves down her spine.
As she felt the rush of moisture between her legs, she pushed her hips against him. He grabbed them, lifting, pulling, pressing her into the throb in his groin. She would have dropped to the floor if he hadn’t held her so tightly.
Then suddenly she was free. Her lips felt swollen, bruised. Her pelvis filled with an intense ache that ground through each organ in her body. She raised her face and watched as he took several steps away from her.
“Say it,” he demanded quietly.
She hesitated for a moment, because the word “Alex” threatened to fall from her mouth without permission, and she did not want to say it. Saying it would mean something too terrible to consider and too impossible to forget.
“No.”
He studied her for a moment, his eyes moving from her eyes to the pulse that beat a haphazard rhythm in her throat.
“Then if the lady of the manor is finished toying with the servant boy, I’ll bid you goodnight.”
He turned and headed toward the small room that served as his bedchamber. When the door slammed, she let the tears fall.
“Alex…”
She lifted the candle and went back to her own world.
Chapter 7
“You want me to do what?” Megan cried.
Trevor lifted his head from the pamphlet he was binding. He pushed the chair away from the worktable, and the wheels rumbled across the wooden planks. Each time she heard the rumble of the wheels, her heart sank a little further. He reached behind him and snagged another thread from the pile. When he turned back to her, he smiled.
“Why so surprised? Campbell’s a member of the family now. He should have supper at the table with us. Would you have him eat in the stable with the horses?”
“He’s perfectly fine eating here,” she said. “He’s an indentured servant and a convicted felon. Taking arms against the government is a traitorous offense. He was lucky he wasn’t hung, and you’ve brought him into this house knowing all that.”
“A man who fights for his rightful king is not a traitor,” Trevor said.
“Charles is not king,” Megan said. “Charles might have been crowned king, in Scotland, I might add, but that does not make him so.”
“No, ’tis his birthright that makes him so,” Trevor said. “I’ll hear no more on it, lass. You’ve taken it into your head to condemn a man for fighting for his principles. The man’s been through hell and back and deserves a chance at a decent life.”
“It’s just—”
“You argue with me today over something that’s naught to do with us. Campbell’s made his choices and knows where his heart lies. You don’t remember England and have never set foot in Scotland, so your scant opinions should be kept to yourself until you know where your heart lies.”
Megan glanced up at him shyly. “My heart lies with you.”
“So why do you argue with me over politics?”
“I don’t. I argue over Campbell.”
“You’ve taken an uncommon dislike to a man you don’t even know, lass. What causes your distress?”
“I don’t like the way he looks at me,” Megan mumbled, “and neither should you. It’s not proper.”
“He looks at you the way he does because the man isnae blind. It doesnae bother me to see you admired by another. It reinforces what a lucky man I am. You belong to no other.”
“He looks at me like I belong to him,” Megan said. “Does it really not bother you to see his eyes touch me like that?”
“No, lass. I might have felt differently two years ago, but now…”
Trevor leaned over his work, inspecting the binding. When he found the loose thread, he gave it a small tug to smooth it. Megan’s glance shifted uneasily. His tone was vague, preoccupied. Was he taking this conversation seriously? If so, he seemed uncommonly blasé about another man’s interest in his own wife.
Megan frowned. “But now what?”
Trevor glanced up. His eyes widened as though surprised to find he was still in a conversation. “Oh, well now, Meg, ’tis not as though what we have here is real.”
“Trevor MacGregor,” she snapped, “what are you saying to me? We’re married.”
“Aye, but we’ve more an arrangement between us and—”
“A legally binding and wholly spiritual arrangement that demands commitment, fidelity, and common goals as well as devotion, respect, trust, honesty, affection—”
Trevor laughed. “I had no idea you took the vows so seriously, Meg.”
“Don’t you?”
“I’d not really thought on it. My life is as it is, and I’ve been sorry to have burdened you with it. I thought when we made the decision to marry it was probably best. I hoped to spare you hardship and make your life easier.”
“I’m your wife, Trevor,” she said. “You act as though you’ve taken me under your wing for protection.”
“’Twas foremost in my mind at the time, and the decision was easily made. There was always affection between us, and I had a soft spot for you even as a child. Your father and I were great friends, and he was a loyal and talented employee. ’Twas the only service I could provide to ease his mind.”
“You speak of affection and service?” Megan asked. “You married me only as a favor to my father?”
“Aye, lass, he asked me to do it. He didnae want you alone here with little more than a cottage, prey to the whims of fate and the lust of men.”
“You had no lust of your own? I cannot believe you’re saying these things to me now. We’ve been married three years, and I thought you loved me.”
“I do love you,
Meg.”
“But you married me out of obligation, Trevor. There was nothing about me you wanted for yourself?”
“I wanted everything about you for myself,” he said softly. He spread his hands as though the simple gesture explained everything. “But, hard as ’tis been, Meg, I’ve accepted the reality of what we have. If I could have turned back the clock and been the man I was even three years ago, we would not be having this conversation because you would know where my feelings lie. Do you know how much you stir my heart? What’s left of my body?”
Megan shook her head.
“You’ve blossomed since we’ve married, Meg. Had I been able to see the future, I would not have trapped you into the situation we have between us. You deserve so much more than a man that must watch your beauty from a chair, a man that cannae even love you like you deserve. Do you know that having you lie in my bed night after night is torture? I remember the ache and torment of the flesh and what it was like to slide into your body and take pleasure there. I remember when we first married. I would have it again with you, but—”
“You can,” she said. “You have.”
“Aye, but ’tis been far from satisfactory for both of us. What’s happened between us has only proven I cannae give what you need. I would see ecstasy on your face, wife, and in my condition…”
Megan flushed and suddenly wanted to cry. When Trevor smiled, it broke her heart.
“I’m making you uncomfortable,” he said, “because you cannae even imagine that between us.”
“I can,” she said. “I remember the beginning.”
“Maybe so, but you were a virgin on our wedding night, Meg, and we only had several months before…this.” He smoothed his hands across the arms of his chair. “After that it became difficult. I’ve not been much of a husband to you.”
She took his hand and knelt beside the chair. “Let’s try again, Trevor. We sleep in the same bed. Surely there are things I can do for you, things we can do to each other. Please, Trevor, let me be your wife.”
Loving Two Highlanders Page 11
