An Eager Widow [Highland Menage 5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Reece Butler

  “I call ye kitten as ye are a wee thing, soft and cuddly though ye think ye are brave. And when I stroke ye with my fingers and tongue ye’ll purr,” he promised in a whisper.

  He dropped his hand to her soft bush. His fingers trailed over her lips, hinting at what would come later. She shifted, spreading her feet a few inches in invitation. He hid his smile in her hair and returned his hand to her breast.

  “I am brave,” she blurted. “I live alone with my dog. I’ve a wee sheiling nearby. None live near, so I do as I choose.”

  “And today ye choose to have my hands and mouth on ye.”

  “Aye. So why is one hand in my braid?”

  She’d barely finished her complaint when he used his foot to push hers father apart. He released her hair and sank the fingers of one hand into her wet, slippery folds, putting the other on her arse. He ran his fingers back and forth from her clit, over her pussy lips, and back. The other hand slid between her smooth cheeks to open the crack of her arse, all the way to her puckered entrance. She dropped her head back, eyes shut and mouth open, panting.

  He repeated the motions over and over, gathering pussy juice to help him slide up her crack. She trembled, her clit swollen and hard. He could easily bring her to her peak but he’d leave her at the edge, wanting more. He set his wet hands on her hips. His heart pumped as if he’d run miles and his cock threatened to explore.

  “Dinna stop!” she wailed.

  “‘Tis yer turn to touch me.”

  “But…you said you’d make me peak.” Her chin quivered in complaint.

  “You will, kitten. When I say ye may.”

  Her pout was magnificent. She broke free. He’d allow her a moment to calm before he stormed her again. She turned to him, fists jammed on wide hips, back arched to thrust her breasts toward him. Her thatch hid the swollen lips he was eager to taste. Her wet thighs glistened in the sun. She gave him a look of scorn, which he ignored as he strolled past. He shook his plaid and spread it on the grass, making sure his horse had not lifted his tail nearby. He moved carefully, his hard cock a nuisance. He wanted to feel her hot pussy yielding to him. Wanted it as much as he wanted to put his mouth on her clit and make her scream. Both would happen but not until he had that wide mouth and thick lips sucking him in.

  “So what should I call you? Puppy?“

  She was trying to wrest control from him. Trying, yet hoping he was strong enough to stand up to her. He was. He kept his eyes on hers, dominating her. She licked her lips, nervous, but didn’t break his gaze. A brave woman, indeed. But then, had she ever been truly threatened? She stood, proudly naked in front of a stranger with not a kinsman within miles to save her. She’d been well protected or she would never behave so brazenly. Just who was she? It didn’t matter. She would soon be his, and Malcolm’s.

  He liked that she stood tall, daring him to react. It made him want to conquer her. He stalked her, stopping with his chest a bare inch from her breasts. She panted, making her nipples brush his chest hair.

  “Nay,” he said, keeping his words quiet, slow, and distinct, “ye shall call me Master.”

  It took a moment for her to react. Her eyes widened. She took a step back, shaking her head with what he was sure was a mixture of fury and arousal.

  “No man masters me, not even the laird of all the MacKenzies,” she boasted.

  Her present defiance and belief in her power over him would make her honest submission all the more sweet. He wondered if she’d ever met a man she couldn’t control, other than her laird. She spoke well and held herself as no servant ever would. Laird MacKenzie said she had a small plot of land and a croft to hold. That would attract men, but she had an attitude that would scare most of them away. Not him, and not Malcolm.

  “Have ye met this great laird?” he asked. She went still, as if thinking of a reply to hide the truth.

  “I have seen him. Laird MacKenzie rides his lands, meeting all he can.”

  She wouldn’t meet his eyes which suggested her statement was correct yet not the whole truth. Whoever she was to the laird, Duff would not mind spending his days, and nights, with her. She would learn to obey him, but that would come in time. He looked forward to the process. Malcolm, with his need to be respected and looked up to, would enjoy it even more. Duff reached for her breasts as if it was his right. She didn’t pull away when he grasped her nipples and pinched.

  “Kneel,” he ordered, at the same time tugging her nipples down. “Use yer mouth for something more enjoyable to me.”

  She resisted just long enough to make her point before dropping to the grass. He rewarded her by leaning over and fondling her breasts. She had not complained or tried to escape his grasp. That meant his wee kitten wanted a man to teach her to sheath her claws. She reached for his eager cock.

  “Hands behind yer back,” he ordered. “Only yer mouth, lips, and tongue are to touch me.”

  Duff waited while she clasped her hands, resting them on the curve of her arse. She opened her mouth and looked up. Her eyes danced at the challenge. He silently groaned. Yes, she’d need a couple of men to keep her content.

  He guided his erect cock to her lips. Her tongue came out first. She tentatively tasted him. She must have approved as the wrinkles on her brow smoothed. She leaned her head forward to take more of him. He stepped closer and grabbed her braid with his left hand.

  She was a natural. Her mouth and tongue, hot and eager, slipped over him. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself not to come. He looked down. She was too damn proud of herself! She needed to learn who was in charge.

  He pressed his cock farther than he knew was comfortable. She gagged and tried to push her head back. He held her in place, their eyes locked, until he saw the beginning of a slight edge of panic. He pulled out and, before she could react, bent and swept her into his arms. She grabbed his neck, breath shuddering. He laid her on his plaid on her back, pushed her thighs wide, and dove tongue-first into her soaking pussy.

  He moaned at her taste. She was fresh from her swim, her pussy juice hot on her chilled thighs. His tongue found her clit and danced over it. He put two fingers in her, curling them forward. She gasped and went rigid. He repeated the motion as her face got redder.

  “Touch yer breasts,” he ordered. She eagerly complied.

  He believed in doing from the start what he wished to have at the end. It was simpler than trying to change a behavior already in place. He used his free hand on her arse. He dragged his smallest finger into her pussy juice, then inserted the tip in her asshole. She jerked and gasped. Between her clit, his fingers in her pussy, her own hands on her breasts, and a finger in her ass it wouldn’t be long before she came. He licked and sucked until she clenched his fingers with her pussy muscle. He lifted his head and inhaled a much-needed deep breath. She was on the edge, almost there. He wanted her to associate his order with her orgasm.

  “Come for me, kitten,” he ordered, and pinched her clit. She went rigid, then jerked in his arms, keening a lament of joy. His dancing tongue kept her going. He’d never wanted anything more than to slam his cock deep into that quivering pussy. But this was for his wee kitten. If she was satisfied she would be eager for more, and soon. She finally sagged on his plaid, limp from her toes to her nose. He kept licking, loving the smell, taste, and touch of her.

  “Mmm,” she murmured. Fingers tightened in his hair. “Kiss me,” she ordered.

  Instead, he twisted the finger still in her ass. She jerked, eyes going wide. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  He took his time answering. When she was ready to listen, he got up on his hands and knees. He walked himself forward until his palms were either side of her shoulders, his knees either side of her hips, caging her in. He looked deep into her eyes, letting her feel his command.

  “What am I doing? Whatever I want.”

  “But that’s not—”

  “Remember yer husband?”

  She blinked, frowning as she tried to make sense of his words. No
doubt her head was still spinning from her orgasm.

  “He liked yer mouth on his cock so much he denied himself the pleasure, and died. Admit ye enjoy my finger in yer arse, ask me for more of it, and ye’ll live to enjoy far more.” He brushed his lips over hers, giving her the kiss she wanted but only when he was ready.

  “I like your finger there,” she whispered.

  “Nay, kitten. Look me in the eye and say it as ye mean it.” Her lips moved as if she mumbled, but no sound came out. “I dinna wish ye to die afore ye scream yer peak from my cock. Now say it.”

  Her eyes blazed with fury, arousal, and embarrassment. “I like your finger in my arse!”

  “Good lass. And I like yer mouth on my cock. Since ye can think enough to talk, ye can put yer lips around me again. This time ye can use yer hands.” He backed away, standing once more.

  “Lucky me!” she mumbled as she rolled to her knees.

  He grabbed her braid to help her stand and to punish her for the comment.

  “Aye, kitten, ye are lucky. Now kneel and open yer mouth like a good lass.” Her eyes narrowed. He jerked her braid again to get her attention. “And if ye bite I will spank ye so hard ye willna sit for a week.”

  Her red face could have been from fury or arousal. Perhaps both. He slipped his hand between her legs when she knelt. She was wet, far more than before.

  “Well, well, my wee kitten gets wet at the thought of my hand spanking her arse.”

  Her eyes widened. “I do—”

  He yanked her braid again. “Dinna lie to me lass,” he warned. She shut her mouth, eyes blazing. “Now put yer mouth to good use.”

  His horse jerked his head up, ears twitching toward the forest, opposite from where he’d ridden in. A moment later he heard the sharp barks of a small dog. His kitten snickered.

  “Ye ken what that is?” he asked.

  “Aye, ‘tis Chester.” Her eyes sparkled. “My vicious watchdog who protects me from all sorts of beasts.”

  The high-pitched barks could never come from a big dog. Sure enough, a knee-high black streak raced from the forest. It eyed the horse, avoiding it in a wide loop, then made a beeline for them.

  “Chester loves licking things,” she said saucily, winking before she abandoned him to greet the dog. The beastie jumped up, licking anything he could reach between yaps.

  “Someone,” he promised, “is definitely getting a spanking.”

  Chapter Five

  Kiera’s fist tightened around the stranger’s hard cock. He lay back, hands folded behind his head, eyes closed to the sun. Chester had fallen asleep a few feet away after receiving the welcome he’d demanded. No one had been spanked. She wasn’t sure what she thought about that. Chester had lain on his back in doggy heaven, totally submitting to the man who knew just where to scratch. The stranger’s laughter at her dog’s antics showed a lot about him. He was not a cruel man, nor would he harm her or those she cared about.

  She snickered, thinking only a few minutes earlier she’d been the one on her back in even greater ecstasy.

  “Ye are thinking too much, lass.”

  She looked up. His knowing eyes smoldered at her. She wasn’t used to men paying close attention to her. Even the ones who did look at her, such as her father and brother, barely saw anything other than what they expected.

  “Do you not believe a woman should think?”

  “Aye, but I wish ye to think on what’s in yer hand.” He winked. “And I want what’s in yer hand to be in yer mouth.”

  She’d been about to do that but since he’d demanded, she’d make him wait. “You want a lot for a stranger riding up to a woman he kens but little.”

  The corners of his mouth tilted up. “Och, I ken a wee bit. Ye’re well fed and so’s yer dog. Chester’s a pet, not a workin’ animal, so ye have more food than ye need. There are others who take care of ye, kin, or mayhaps yer husband’s family. Ye’re not afraid of a stranger so ye’ve not been badly harmed. Ye demanded what ye wanted from me, so ye think for yerself and act on it. I see few scars on yer hide, nor do ye flinch when I lift my hand so ye’ve not been whipped or beaten much. Ye are here on yer own yet ye weren’t worried when I rode up to the water.” He nodded. “Aye, ye’ve had an easy life compared to most.”

  He was far too observant. She did not want him thinking about who she might be. To distract him she put her lips around his cock. He gasped and his eyes rolled up. She flicked her tongue over him. He groaned and placed his hands on her head, guiding rather than forcing. He made sounds that could be the male equivalent of a whimper. She sped up, squeezing him with her fist and gently tugging his sac and balls with the other.

  His comment about not using her teeth gave her an idea, and she grazed him lightly. That got another gasp. His hand tightened in her hair. The sting made her work harder. She bobbed, enjoying her power over him. He suddenly gasped, and yanked her head up. Her mouth popped off. Surprised, she hesitated when he shifted his hips to the side. He roared and erupted.

  There was no other word to describe it. His seed exploded out of him like a wave crashing through the hole in the top of a cave. Jets of it, again and again until he finally sank back, limbs splayed. She bit her lips to keep from laughing. He must’ve heard her because he cracked one eye half open.

  “Something funny, lass?”

  From the way he said it, it was anything but funny to him.

  “How the mighty have fallen,” she said. “The big warrior is as limp as Chester.”

  “You call that limp?” He pointed to his cock.

  It was true. Unlike Bertie after he came, this man was still half-hard. “I’ve never seen that before,” she said. “‘Twas most impressive. Not that much happened during my marriage. It only lasted six weeks afore he fell off his horse and broke his neck.”

  “Do ye miss him?”

  “Miss Bertie?” She laughed, shaking her head. “Chester is far more company.”

  He closed his eyes again. She detected a smirk.

  “No hand but my own has touched my cock in over a year,” he said. “If ye wait a wee bit and do that again ye’ll find I willna shoot as far.”

  There was no question about him staying from her point of view. She lay her hand on his cock. “Do you wish to stay for a wee bit?” It jerked, though the rest of his body lay still.

  “‘Tis up to the lady.”

  It was her turn to jerk until she realized he meant her as a female, not as Lady Kiera MacKenzie.

  “Well,” she said, teasing, “the least I can do is feed you after you’ve used all that effort to make me come.”

  He jackknifed, grabbed her, and pulled her down. She squealed in surprise, ending up splayed across his chest. He wrapped his arms around her although she didn’t try to escape. He kissed the top of her head, the way she did Chester.

  “Aye, show me ye can cook, lass. I’d like to see ye in clothes.”

  “Why?”

  “So I can tell ye to take them off again. Very, very, slowly.”

  His eyes blazed. She felt an answering heat, and cursed. More of that expression and she’d impale herself on his hardening cock!

  “Now hush and let me sleep,” he said. “Then ye can cook me a fine meal.”

  He flipped up a corner of the plaid, covering their bodies. She snuggled down so one hip was on the plaid, the other resting on him. She inhaled, and when she let out the air she released all her worries as well. No matter what happened in the future a very attractive, strong-minded man had valued her on her birthday. He’d not only wanted her, he’d proved the life she’d known was only a shadow compared to the colors that had exploded behind her eyes when she came for him.

  No, she’d come for herself. It was happenstance that it happened just when he ordered it. He was merely the instrument of her pleasure, and replaceable. Though as she’d gone all her life without meeting someone like him, the chance of another was slim.

  “Ye ready to beg for my cock, lass?”

  “Hush
, you’re sleeping.” She stuck her elbow in his gut. His chuckle, and the arms around her, made her feel…right. How long had it been since she’d felt her body was something to be proud of?

  “Relax, kitten, and sleep. Ye’re safe with me.”

  She did feel safe. Not since she was a lass sitting in her father’s lap with his arms around her had she felt so welcomed. A furry shape trotted over and curled up to one side. She smiled to herself. She was sandwiched between two males, and extremely content with it.

  * * * *

  Chester raced down the path ahead of them, yapping to show the way. Duff wore his plaid while his woman wore his well-patched shirt. Her body was covered, yet she was more enticing now than she’d been when naked. His plaid covered up the erection he couldn’t keep down with her nearby.

  His woman.

  He liked how that sounded. His kitten might not know it yet but she’d found herself a pair of husbands. She laughed, dancing ahead with the dog. He found himself grinning, just to see her laugh.

  “That’s where I’m living,” she said, pointing to a sheiling.

  The bottom half was of stone with a door and two windows, both with shutters open. The thatched roof was old and gray. Some plants had taken root in it. He recognized the pink of the heather. It was a temporary place, used by women and their wee ones for the summer. She should have some goats nearby to milk for cheese. He saw no sign of them, nor even a milking stool. It was rare to have a single sheiling as usually all the women from a village would spend the summer together with their bairns while the men tended the crops by the village.

  Was his kitten one of Laird MacKenzie’s bastards, or perhaps a leman he’d used for comfort between the death of one wife and marriage to the next? No, he wouldn’t have promised a leman’s dying mother to marry her off. It matter not whoever she’d been as she would soon belong to him. And to Malcolm, of course.

  What had his twin been doing while Duff and his woman played? Thanks to the connection they shared, he knew Malcolm had been thumped a few times in battle practice. In return Duff had come so hard each time with Kiera that it would have been quite the distraction for his twin. That, and bruises, would make Malcolm fairly cranky. And since his stuffy brother prided himself on his control… Duff chuckled to himself.