Bedding the Enemy [Highland Menage 9] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Reece Butler

  * * * *

  Niall bit back a grin. Their wee Meg had relaxed while they bathed and dried her, but she was too smart to think they’d forgotten what they planned. He would help Somerled spank Meg, and if she took it well, he would reward her with an orgasm. If she did not behave he would enjoy her anyway, without the reward. She’d had two just now with Somerled. It would be a challenge to give her another. He liked that sort of challenge.

  As soon as she was dry she’d gone for the door, which Niall had bolted behind them. It was a good thing he’d done so as Meg was fast. She couldn’t run far as she was naked. What mattered was that she’d tried.

  “What did I say about running from me?” demanded Somerled.

  She growled something at him, her back to the door. Her lovely full breasts swayed each time she shifted her weight. A few steps and they caught her. She struggled and shrieked, making them work for it.

  Niall helped lay her across Somerled’s plaid-covered legs. The laird sat on the sturdy table, one hand on her back while Niall covered her, knee to ankle, with his plaid. He’d stripped while bathing her as she’d tried to splash him. She’d then stared at his eager cock so hard he’d almost hauled her out and taken her wet.

  “Do ye ken what Gillis said about spanking a lass?” asked Somerled. Niall could see his twin’s wild gleam, but not Meg.

  “He said dinna give one side more than the other. Make it even, like,”replied Niall.

  “Aye, ’tis what I thought.”

  A slap filled the kitchen followed by a shriek. A shriek, not a cry. They shared a glance. Though she complained, it was all part of the game.

  “Now the other cheek.”

  “Nay!”

  After ten Somerled motioned for Niall to check between her thighs. Her scent proved she was wet even before his fingers touched her slippery lips. They’d carefully washed between her legs, and dried her. That she was so wet again meant she enjoyed the struggling and spanking. Niall folded a damp drying cloth and set it on the table. He checked that the dish of oil had not been upset in their tussles.

  “I ken ye have much to do today, laird,” he said. “Howbeit if I relieve ye of this great responsibility?”

  Meg sagged. “Good, that’s over,” she muttered.

  She couldn’t see the smile they shared. Yes, Somerled had lifted the corners of his lips yet the world kept on turning. Niall unwrapped his plaid from around Meg’s legs and laid it on the table. Somerled stood, setting Meg on her feet while keeping hold of her upper arms. Niall sat on the cloth and, with Somerled’s help, hauled her across his lap, being careful of his hard cock.

  “My turn to spank our wife.”

  “Nay!” she wailed.

  “Aye,” he answered.

  Her naked belly rested on one thigh, her hips on the other. Her breasts and elbows were protected from the rough table by his plaid. He pressed his left hand on the small of her back, holding her down. Somerled held her ankles, keeping them apart while ensuring she did not kick. Niall lightly brushed his fingers over Meg’s hot skin.

  “Now ’tis my turn.”

  He cupped his hand so it would cover more of her and brought it down sharply. The resulting sound, and her squeal and twitch, made him grin. He tried it again. And again. He loved how her flesh jiggled each time. Even more, he liked how she squirmed, rubbing her pussy over his cock.

  After ten he paused, stretching his hand so it wouldn’t cramp. Somerled spread her ankles wide. Her scent rose, teasing his nostrils and making his cock jerk.

  “Have ye got our wife under control?” asked Somerled as if she were a task to be completed.

  “Aye, ’tis a grave duty, ye ken,” replied Niall, caressing her.

  “Meg hasna tried too hard to escape, nor called us vile names,” said Somerled. “Ye may give her a wee reward.”

  “Aye, laird,” he replied. “I will reward myself as well.”

  “Thought ye would,” said Somerled, chuckling as he closed the door behind him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Meg knelt on her bed, knees wide, moaning in need. She gripped the sheet as Niall’s slippery fingers thrust deep, then twisted. They weren’t in her pussy, but in her arse. She’d had no idea there was so much sensation in that part of her!

  His head was under her, tongue on her clit, driving her wild. She tried to grind her pussy into his face, but his other hand controlled her position. She was so close to coming, but each time she thought she was there, he stopped.

  “Niall!”

  He pulled his fingers out of her arse. She cursed in frustration at the loss of sensation, then relief when his touch returned. He’d added a fourth finger. The sharp edge of pain made her clench. He sucked her clit and she arched, pressing herself into his mouth. She groaned, her head whirling. She was so close…and then he pulled his hand out again.

  “Nay!” She pounded the bed, growling behind her teeth. He lifted her pelvis and slid out.

  “Dinna move,” he ordered. His voice was harsh. Angry, or needing to come as badly as she?

  She stayed, unmoving except for her pussy, which she clenched repeatedly. Water splashed, then damp, cool hands touched her heated bottom cheeks.

  “Relax and take me,” he said, the order low and intense.

  He set his cock at her arse and nudged. She relaxed and he entered her by an inch. Her groan matched his. He stretched her, but not that much more than what he’d done with his fingers, leading up to this. She didn’t know how long it had taken. She hadn’t thought beyond Niall’s hands and mouth.

  “Are ye sure Meg’s ready for both of us?”

  “Eek!”

  The pre-orgasmic hiss filling her ears was so loud she hadn’t heard Somerled enter. He winked at her as he stripped. His cock stood out from its black nest. Would they take her together now? Niall stayed in place, unmoving.

  “Ye trusted me this morn in the sea. Do ye trust us to show ye a new way of pleasure?” Somerled stretched out on the bed beside her, his face close. He kissed her nose. “I want ye to share us, but only if ye wish it.”

  Her body felt so ready. His eyes pleaded with her, reflecting her own need. She nodded. He closed his eyes, slumping for a moment. When he opened them, they blazed. His hands found a nipple and her clit and began playing. She murmured approval.

  Niall gripped her cheeks so hard his fingers pressed into her. He groaned, sliding another inch inside. She squeaked at the sharp bite. He instantly backed off.

  “Relax, Meg,” he urged.

  “Relax?” she demanded. “Do you wish me to stick a handful of fingers in your arse so you ken what it feels like?”

  Somerled looked past her shoulder. Were they seriously considering it? Niall patted her, none too gently.

  “Mayhaps one day,” he said. “Our wife likes our fingers in her, so mayhaps we’ll enjoy having her finger in us.”

  What if she sucked a cock while fingering him? Would that drive him wild? Niall spanked her again. She gasped, and he took another inch. She forgot about everything but the touch of two warriors, one sliding in and out, slow and sure while the other played her nipples and clit like the strings of a lute, plucking and stroking.

  “When will you let me come?” she demanded when once more they’d stopped just when she needed more.

  Niall pulled out. Somerled lifted her up and over. She grabbed his cock and aimed it at her pussy. He slid right inside, deep and filling. She barely got settled when he tugged her body toward him. When she lay flat, his cock almost out, Niall spread her arse cheeks.

  Could she do this? A hand came down. The shock made her relax. A push and Niall was inside again, though not far. She held her breath until the edge of pain eased. When she exhaled he slipped deeper. She groaned at the friction, tight and hot, so different from her pussy.

  “Is this what ye wish, wee Meg?” asked Somerled. He played with her breasts, molding them. “Both of us in ye, sharing ye?”

  “Aye,” she replied in a whisper. She
had no breath for more, too overwhelmed and exhilarated.

  It was her body that joined her husbands, twins who connected on so many other levels. She needed this. Needed them. Their pattern of slow thrusts, Somerled’s fingers on her nipple and clit, their scent, their touch, their hoarse breaths… All was for her alone.

  But they moved too slowly, teasing her. She needed them hard and fast. She pushed back on Niall’s cock so it filled her, then sliding forward and down to do the same with Somerled. It wasn’t just their cocks she craved. She wanted their laughs, their shouts when they came, even the way they held wee Fearchar while the kitten bit their thumbs and fingers.

  She sped up, taking over. Finally in charge of her orgasm, she threw her head back, laughing as she came. Their frantic thrusting as they followed set her off again. It all swirled together, and she was gone.

  Later she dozed, washed and cuddled with her head on Niall’s chest and Somerled tucked behind her. Niall cupped her arse, still a bit sore, while his twin played with her hair.

  “Now ye are ours, wee Meggie,” murmured Somerled.

  * * * *

  Somerled stood on the wall walk and stared at the sunset. Meg had gone in the sea again that day, even though the waves were higher. He’d stood near to keep her safe, but it had been her idea, and her choice. She’d dunked herself many times, even paddled a bit. He hoped this need they had to be with her faded soon as there was much work to be done. He didn’t want the need to disappear, just to ease so he could be comfortable with her out of his sight for a few hours.

  A footstep on stone made him turn, hand on his dirk. Ewan wore Shadow around his neck. Fearchar was curled in his hand, held by his chin. Ewan could move as silently as Shadow. He’d scuffed a foot so Somerled wouldn’t stab him for walking up behind.

  He nodded at the purring orange ball. “Meg’s kitten is settling in well.”

  “Aye. If he grows to attack mice the way he did a wee beetle just now, he will do well. He be a fierce one and will puff up and spit when our dog shows up.”

  “Ye are that sure one will come?”

  Ewan nodded. “The chances are good.”

  He set Fearchar on the wide stone parapet. Shadow slid off his neck and joined the kitten in a game of chase. It was sixty feet to the ground, but the cats didn’t care. Somerled kept an eye on them. Meg would not be happy if something happened to her wee ones.

  He’d promised her a kitten, but the only ones were in the village. After what she’d done in the water the other day he’d swallowed his fear and invited her to the village to choose one. With Meg at his side he’d forced his feet to go past the stables, past the chapel, and all the way to the village. His clansmen were shocked and delighted. Not only had he visited them for the first time since he was a lad, he’d brought their new lady. Fearchar had picked Meg, and after a very good day they’d returned to Duncladach with their arms full of gifts for the new Lady MacDougal and his sporran full of a sleeping kitten.

  Fearchar arched onto his toes, orange tail high as if fighting a foe. He reached out a paw and touched Shadow’s tail, then leaped sideways. Somerled found his lip twitching at the feisty bundle. Fearchar reminded him of his own wee kitten. Meg was tiny but full of sass and purrs.

  “Times, they be changing, laird.”

  “A wife is enough change for me.”

  Meg threw him off balance, not that it was a bad thing. It just would take a while to get used to having someone think of his comfort. Meg looked at him with a smile that made him feel he mattered, for himself not just as their laird. Yes, he was learning there could be some good in change. It was time he released the past.

  Working on instinct, he’d kept them all close and together behind the walls of Duncladach. Then the time came that he knew he couldn’t feed, or teach, them all. Angus and James were quick thinkers. Their bond brothers, Gillis and Cormac, were agile fighters. A thinker and a fighter made a good team, but he couldn’t give them what they needed. So he’d hidden his fears for their safety and sent the four of them out to foster. It had been hard, not knowing if Cormac and James had made it the two hundred miles to Caithness.

  After a couple of years Laird Cameron had sent a note that Angus and Gillis were doing well, but there was nothing from Laird Sinclair, the Earl of Caithness. For years Somerled had wondered if they were even alive. But all four of them had not only returned, they’d now found wives and new homes. Contacts they’d made while fostering had allowed Malcolm and Duff to find a wife and home as well. And now all of them had bairns. Kiera had even birthed twins.

  He prayed Meg had only one babe at a time. Surely she was too small to carry more? Neither of his father’s wives had been big, yet they’d carried twins. Maeve hadn’t lived much past the weaning of Malcolm and Duff. Somerled believed his father spurning her so openly had made her give up when she caught a fever. Their father had left her behind the walls of Duncladach with twelve bairns, four of them his bastards, while he created Finn, Dougal, and Artair.

  In response to his father’s actions Somerled had sworn he’d never turn from his wife, or seek another bed, unless she threatened their clan.

  “Once ye doubted we’d all live,” said Ewan, interrupting his thoughts. “Now we are grown. Eight are married with four babes born, two of them lassies. Isabel is carryin’ our first MacDougal lad. Three of our brothers are lairds, one even a knight. Ye and Niall have Lady Meg. And there’s more to come.”

  Somerled set his back to the sunset and leaned on the stone parapet. Orange rays lit Ewan’s face, highlighting the furrows. “Good, or bad?”

  “Ye can look at it both ways.”

  Ewan gestured at Fearchar, now washing his face. One of his ears was turned inside out, each white hair backlit by the red of the setting sun. He paused, tongue sticking out and paw high, to stare at them. His ear popped back into place and he jumped. Somerled found himself chuckling.

  “’Tis like the kitten,” said Ewan. “Fearchar makes a man smile, yet he is a burden in that ye will feel loss if aught happens to him. He willna live as long as a man. So, is it good to have him in yer life for a wee while, to make ye and yer lady smile? Or is it bad that ye’ll care for him and then he’ll die on ye?”

  Somerled watched the sunset-colored waves wash up on the shore far below. The waves never stopped, year after year. Duncladach had sat here for four hundred years and, God and the king willing, would do so for at least another four. Yet each wave was a wee bit different from the next, just as each day was the same as the last, and yet not.

  With Meg taking over what she considered her duties, each day was a surprise. It was startling as he’d not thought of how a wife could change his life. It pleased him that she wished to make Duncladach her own, and to belong to the MacDougal clan.

  “We’ve had little to smile about over the years,” replied Somerled. “Yet when times were bad we’d huddle together, cold and hungry, and talk of those few good times. So I say ’tis better to ken something good, even for a wee while, for if ye lose it, ye still have yer memories.”

  “We do have a few good ’uns, aye? That chess tourney James set up during that three-day blizzard. The day Torquil found the courage to step outside the walls of Duncladach once more…” He shared a look of pain with Somerled. “Some memories are bittersweet, but we can choose to value the sweet over the bitter.”

  Somerled heard but didn’t acknowledge it. He still blamed himself for not noticing when Torquil snuck out on his own to hunt that day. The attack had left him so scarred that he swore no woman would have him. Torquil, and Ewan, could never share what he and Niall had with Meg.

  “There is one warning I must give ye,” said Ewan. “Ye must think afore ye make a choice. And I dinna mean with yer head or cock.”

  “A choice of what?”

  Ewan heaved a huge sigh. “If I kenned that, Laird MacDougal I’d be a Seer, nay a crazy man with visions.” He turned and slipped away.

  Somerled stared as the sun went dow
n. Once, all he cared about was that his brothers survived to live another day. Now he had a wife, which meant the chance of bairns. That brought more worries. When you had nothing to lose but your life it was easy to put it on the line. He did not want to lose Meg, his brothers, or even Fearchar and Shadow.

  A mew at his side made him turn. The kitten poked his sharp claws into Somerled’s plaid and climbed up his back to his shoulder. He perched there, purring. Shadow jumped down, making a prrpt sound, one Somerled took as a question of food. The woman who’d given Meg the orange striped kitten had provided a crock of goat milk. Shadow figured it was his due for training the kitten.

  Somerled followed Shadow to the kitchen, Fearchar riding his shoulder like an eagle. With luck he’d catch Meg just finishing her bath…

  Chapter Fifteen

  Somerled stared at Meg over the chessboard. She chewed on the tip of her braid as she contemplated her next move, though it was his turn. She inhaled, deeply, twisting sideways at the same time to stretch. The moveent pulled at her gown, hinting that her nipple might escape. He began to understand why he was losing.

  “Ye shall pay for this, minx.”

  She stared at him with the same color eyes as the kitten in her lap. Fearchar was innocent of using sexual wiles. Meg was not. She was guilty of purposely distracting him, no doubt about it. But he couldn’t prove a thing. Nor could he admit that Laird MacDougal had been taken in by such an obvious ploy by his wife. Were there moves to get his king to safety before her bishop or castle took him out? Too bad James wasn’t around to ask. He was the best of them at the game.

  “Laird?”

  He looked up, eager at the excuse to interrupt Meg’s gloating. Ewan took a few steps into the hall.

  “Aye?”

  “I dinna wish to disturb yer lady beatin’ ye again, but—”

  “Again? ’Twas only once!”