She glanced over her shoulder to where he stood by the entrance to their private little haven. How long had he been standing there? Had he seen her undress? The ache inside her body grew, and she knew if she slid her hands down her body and over her mound, she’d be wet with wanting him.
She’d never touched herself before he’d left her that first time, but as the months had gone by and her body had burned to see him, she’d pressed her fingers to her center. She’d found she could relieve the ache for a while by thinking of him and rubbing through her slick folds.
What would he do if she turned around and did just that? Trailed her hands over her breasts, cupped them and squeezed her nipples, then caressed down her body and through the auburn curls that hid her sex?
He’d be by her side in only a few strides, she would guess. He’d made no secret of the fact that he wanted her in that way and intended to take her if she ever offered.
Well, was she offering?
She turned back to the water, laid down her soap and cloths on the edge, unstrapped the sheath of daggers from her arm, and stepped in with her other foot. “You know naught of newly born bairns, Callum MacLean, if you think they come out of the womb shiny and clean.”
When the water was up to her waist and her hair floated around her, she swam for the middle of the pool. Heat enveloped her, and she groaned in delight. All those days shivering in the wind were forgotten; the hard hikes and sore muscles were nothing but a memory. She dipped her head under, and when she surfaced, she laughed and spun in a circle, her hair slicked back from her face, her feet just touching the bottom.
“This spot is a treasure,” she said. “The treasure of Clan MacLean.”
“Nay, you are the treasure of Clan MacLean,” he said.
He sounded closer to her, and she opened her eyes to see him standing naked, his plaid and shoes beside hers on the rock. He’d entered the pool, the water up to his knees, his body a sculpted mass of lean, hard muscle, and his jaw shaved clean of his beard.
So that’s what he’d been doing when he’d left her here—preparing himself for her.
The thought sent a spasm of need through her belly, and she fixed her eyes on his cock—hard and sculpted just like the rest of him, jutting upward at an angle from a nest of brown curls. His sac hung heavily, swinging slightly as he stepped down, and even that was exciting, causing a pulsing in her core and a restless desire to be held in place by him.
To be held down and have him touch and lick her everywhere.
“I’m a MacLean treasure, am I? I doona recall you doing anything yet to change my clan. Perhaps in the night, by the fire, and I didn’t even feel it? Nay more than a little prick, perhaps?” She raised her brow and tried to sound cool with her play on words. But he stepped to the bottom of the pool and pushed off with a laugh, swimming toward her, and she laughed too, before gawking at the muscles rippling in his chest and shoulders, her jest forgotten.
He reached her and circled his arms around her. Her legs floated up in the deeper water on either side of him. The broad head of his shaft nudged her soft, swollen center, and she bit her lip to stop herself from moaning. Nay, no small prick here.
Even though she tried to hold herself still, she jerked against him restlessly, the need in her so great, she felt like an animal in heat. But it wasn’t just the physical need driving her. She found herself clenching her arms around his neck, squeezing as hard as she could. She pushed her body tightly against his, her breasts squashed against his chest, her nipples hard and erect against the soft prickle of his chest hair. And the emotions—she couldn’t stop them from rioting though her, making her want to sob in his arms. Fear and uncertainty, anger and hurt, but also joy. Her heart felt full to bursting, and her breath came in short, agitated gasps.
God in heaven, she was as daft as a daylight-digging badger.
His hands rubbed up and down her back, gently soothing and whispering soft words to her. He seemed to understand, somehow, that the intensity of the moment and what they were about to do had undone her.
“It’s all right, love. Hush, everything will be well. I willna let anything bad happen to you, I promise. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here with you. We’ll take this as slow or as fast as you need to. I’ll catch you, Maggie. Let yourself fall. I promise to catch you.”
She was naked in his arms, her legs and arms wrapped around him, completely open for his possession. Yet he soothed her, rocked her like a bairn, helped her collect those conflicting feelings within herself that she didn’t know how to handle. Those parts of who she was that fought with each other. The scared part with the brave part. The happy part with the angry part.
“Callum,” she said, sounding ragged even to her own ears.
“Aye, Maggie.”
“I doona know how to be with you, how to be a wife. There’s…there’s…something hurt inside me. Scared.”
“Aye, Maggie. We’re all hurt and scared in some way. Being together—making love and relying on each other—will help us heal. Help us to grieve and forgive if we need to. To believe again, trust again. Do you understand?”
She shook her head and felt tears slip down her cheek, felt like she may just break apart. It was getting dark, and with her face already wet, she knew Callum couldn’t see the tears, but still she wanted to hide. She tucked her face into that spot she loved between his neck and shoulder and let out a long, shuddering breath. That spot, right there, breathing in the scent of his skin, somehow made her feel secure.
“Making love with me, in my arms, is the safest place you could ever be. I’ll take care of you. Let me have you, Maggie. Please.”
Her breath caught in her throat, loving that he’d asked when he could have just taken. They both knew she would have allowed it. She wanted that so much, and she nodded jerkily. She couldn’t help squeezing him even closer, her ankles crossed behind him, her arms tight around his shoulders. Almost as if she wanted to push right inside his skin.
“I doona know what’s the matter with me,” she said. Despite the warmth of the water, she was shivering too.
“You’re vulnerable, Maggie. We both are. Your walls have come down, and your heart is free.”
That made her mad, and she scowled. What good was she to herself or him if she couldn’t control her feelings? “Well, I doona like it. Tup me and get it o’er with.”
He dropped his head into the same spot on her that she’d been snuggling into on him. Except she was pretty sure he was laughing.
Pulling back, he cupped her face with his big hands. He held her still as he looked at her, their foreheads almost touching, breathing each other’s breath. “Aye, I’ll tup you, Maggie. Several times, most likely. And I’ll do other things too. I’ll hold you down and bury my face right here.” He slid his hand down her body and cupped between her legs, the heel of his hand pressing down on the nub at the top, his fingers stroking all the way along her cleft.
She let out a strangled cry and thrust her pelvis against him, her heels digging into his backside, her knees splaying wide. “Callum!”
He dragged his other hand down and roughly squeezed her breast, pinched her nipple. A streak of heat and sensation shot all the way down to her core. Her sex clenched as she rocked against him.
“I’ll be rough sometimes, Maggie, if I sense you need it. Other times, I’ll suckle you gently. Like this.” He squeezed her breast again but in a different way, holding it up for his attention. She leaned back, her fingers digging into his shoulders as his lips closed over her swollen nipple, his mouth sucking the mound, the warmth scalding her in the same way the water had earlier. He laved with his tongue, and she felt herself close to coming apart in every way. Tears streamed from her eyes into her hair, her body winding tighter and tighter as she undulated beneath his touch.
When he lifted his head, she cried out in denial, but he replaced his mouth wi
th his hand and rolled her nipple between his fingers as he talked.
“We can be any way we need to be together. Fast or slow, raw or gentle. Trust me to give you what you need.”
“How will you…know what…I need?” Her words came out in gasps, and she couldn’t quite catch her breath.
“Your body will tell me.”
“What do I need right now?”
“This.” He slid his palm upward and cupped the nape of her neck, anchoring her in place as he slanted his mouth over hers and took over. His tongue delved deeply, rubbing against and suckling hers. His fingers began a rhythmic stroking and circling at the heart of her womanhood, the pressure light where she needed it yet heavy when she needed more. He continued in a steady motion, and every time she pushed closer to him, his hips jerked as if he couldn’t help himself. She wanted to slide her hands down and squeeze that hard length in her palm, but he was relentless in taking her up to the pinnacle of release. She broke apart within minutes, bucking and quivering, screaming into his mouth, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her legs clenching around his waist.
He held her close, his body and mouth grinding against hers, his chest heaving and legs trembling even though he hadn’t been inside her yet, or spent his seed. She may be a virgin, but she wasn’t ignorant, and she knew he would have softened if he had.
And he was as hard as ever, twitching against her belly.
She settled slowly, and he gentled their kiss, his lips soft, his tongue no more than a whisper against hers. He pressed his palm to her mound, not rubbing, just a firm, steady anchor that eased her down from the heights of intimacy.
She let out a shuddering breath, and he kissed across her cheek, wrapped his arms around her body, and just held her.
“Callum,” she croaked.
“Aye, Maggie.” His voice was still rough, filled with unreleased need. She knew they’d only touched the surface of what he wanted to do with her tonight.
“That was…” Emotion bubbled up in her throat, and her words squeaked out unintelligibly. She took a shaky breath and tried again. “I have ne’er had such pleasure before. Surely, I thought I might die from it. ’Tis no comparison to what I’ve felt before.”
He stiffened beneath her. “And when was that, Maggie MacLean?” His voice was low and clipped.
“Doona fash, you daft man. When I’ve touched myself, of course.” His body relaxed beneath hers, and he opened his mouth to say something, but she pressed her fingers to his lips. “And doona tell me it’s unseemly or I’m not to do it again. ’Tis my body, not yours, and I shall touch it in whate’er way I want, whene’er I want. And seeing as you havenae found your own release inside me yet, you’re still getting ahead of yourself by calling me a MacLean, don’t you think?”
“Aye. To both. I was only going to suggest that perhaps someday, in the privacy of our marital chamber, you can touch yourself as I watch…Maggie MacLean.”
It was almost dark, but she could see the flash of his teeth against his skin, and she found herself answering his grin. Did that mean she’d forgiven Callum?
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and laid her cheek on his shoulder. He stroked his hands up her back and walked with her to the pool’s edge. He let go for a moment, and then she felt the soap in his hands gliding along her skin, smelled the scent of roses. She hoped he washed her all over. Aye, for sure he would. She suspected she had only a few minutes left of being a MacDonnell.
She smiled as he retraced his steps to the middle of the pool, feeling content about their union now that she’d made up her mind. “I must say, I am happy not to have to leave the Highlands. Although we still need to find John. Can you send men to search for him, as you suggested? My clan needs him.”
“Aye, we will.” He rubbed the soap over her behind and down the cleft of her bottom from the back to the front. She turned her face to his skin and bit down, finding herself arching her spine and groaning, surprised at how good it felt.
He did it again. “You like that, do you, my Maggie? Well, it has been days since you’ve had a proper wash. You will need lots of soap and cleaning. You are a verra dirty lass.”
She had to laugh at the way he’d said the last few words, rough and guttural.
“Lean back, love. Wet your hair.” She did, shuddering as his hands slid down the front of her body with the soap. He went around each breast and down over her mound to glide through her folds with broad, heavy strokes.
When he stopped, she raised her head to find him staring down at her.
“What is it?” she asked.
He raised his eyes to her face. “You are a vision, Maggie. So strong and lush and beautiful, with your hair spread out around you in the water. You shine in the moonlight. I have ne’er seen anyone—or anything—as lovely as you. My warrior faery princess, filled with such power and grace.”
Her heart contracted at his words, flipped over, then expanded till it felt like it might burst from her chest. Callum found her strength beautiful.
He ran his hands down her body again and stroked his fingers through the wet curls there, spreading her folds and circling her nub with his thumb until her spine bowed. He slid his arms behind her and pulled her against his chest, the water pouring from her hair in a noisy rush as he strode with her to the pool’s edge.
When he stepped out, she shivered. It was not as chilly here as it had been at the top of the mountain, but the summer nights were cooling down faster as autumn approached. Callum leaned down, still holding her up with one arm. He grabbed both their sets of knives, as well as the large linen, which he wrapped around her to keep the cold at bay.
She couldn’t take her eyes off him, excited about what was to come but also uncertain. “Where?” she asked.
He knew exactly what she meant. “On the moss. I’ve laid my plaid there.”
She looked to see his blanket covering the ground, his sword beside it. “And your sword, of course.”
“Of course. To protect you with, Maggie. Always.”
She snatched one of her daggers from his hand as he carried her to their makeshift bed. “I doona need protecting, remember?”
“I hope not.”
“Well, I suppose you can protect me. As long as you know I’ll always protect you too.”
“Aye.”
He stopped and knelt on his plaid, then laid her on top of it. Suddenly, she felt shy, as though the past hour in the pool had never happened and he was looking upon her naked for the first time. She pulled her knees up, hugged them to her body. He reached for her hand and she thought he would pull her legs down, but instead, he unclasped her fingers from the dagger she gripped and placed it above her head where he’d laid her other two beside his.
“Let’s not bring weapons into our bed with us, aye?”
“Aye,” she agreed. She rolled over onto her side, still hugging her knees to her chest.
He trailed his fingers down and up her arm, then followed her spine all the way to the tip of her tailbone. He kept going, to glide up her inner thigh and stay there, drawing lazy circles on her skin.
“Maggie, let me in, love.”
Her stomach contracted with every touch, and the ache bloomed between her legs. Still, she held tight. “Why couldn’t we have done this in the water?”
He slid his fingers over her mound again, pushing slowly between the folds of her sex that protruded from between her drawn-up legs and rubbing into her slick center. The breath expelled from her lungs in a loud exhale, and her arms relaxed, her legs parting more the deeper he delved.
Her eyes had closed and her lips loosened, her pelvis already rocking to his rhythm, spiraling quickly out of control.
“The water will wash your wetness away. ’Tis what eases my entry, aye? The slicker you are from my touch, the more enjoyable it will be for both of us.”
She co
uldn’t answer, feeling like her swollen folds were almost ready to burst. His fingers just kept pushing through them in a steady, gentle rhythm. Then he slipped one palm to her inner thigh and pushed on it so she rolled onto her back, her legs spread wide and her knees pulled up, her wet, ripe center completely exposed to him.
“Keep holding your knees up and doona close them,” he said almost harshly. Then his head ducked between her legs, his hands lifting her arse and his tongue sliding over the very center of her with long, flat strokes, devouring her just like he’d said he would.
She gasped as she raced toward her release, her body splintering into hundreds of pieces as he pushed his fingers inside her, first one then another, pumping and licking. Her sex clenched around him. He pushed her up to the breaking point again, clamping his lips around her nub and sucking on it hard while he flicked it with his tongue. His fingers pressed on a spot on the inside that had her splaying her knees even wider and arching her back. But when she knew she was about to burst, the biggest and loudest one yet, he took his mouth and his fingers and his tongue away.
She opened her eyes and saw him moving up her body between her spread thighs. His eyes shone wild and feral, his color high and lips parted as he panted through them. A rounded, blunt pressure at her entrance pushed slowly upward, driving her wild, and she couldn’t help jerking beneath him, dislodging him.
“Maggie, for the love of all the angels in heaven, hold still or I’ll lose my seed before I’m inside you.”
She released her knees and wrapped them high around his hips, her hands clinging to his shoulders. She pulled him down on top of her as he repositioned himself, and the pressure at her entrance returned. He pushed forward quickly this time, and her pleasure quickly turned to a pinching pain. But he didn’t give her a chance to feel it, thrusting forward through her swollen folds. The pleasure returned, and she shuddered, the hard ridge of his pelvis riding over her most sensitive spot and that nudging pressure behind on her arse from his sac swinging against her with every thrust.
Highland Betrayal Page 18
