His Royal Hotness

by Virna DePaul

  “Your pants.”

  As she undid the single button of her jeans, Callum undid the ones lining the front of his shirt. He kicked off one shoe, but stopped before kicking off the other, just to watch Molly shimmy her hips out of her jeans.

  “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath as she looked back up at him, standing in just her bra and underwear.

  He dragged his shirt off his shoulders and stepped out of his other shoe. The pressure of his erection against his pants throbbed painfully. He closed the distance between them and saw the flash in Molly’s eyes as he again pinned her against the wall. Her eyes fluttered closed when he pressed his length against her bare stomach.

  “Do you care much for this?” he asked her, snapping the strap of her bra against her collarbone.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  Callum nodded before gripping the edge of each lace cup and ripping it in two. Molly stared indignantly up at him with shocked eyes, and he thought she might slap him, hoped she might slap him. But he could see in the way her bare tits heaved and the way her nipples hardened in the air’s chill that it turned her on. Suddenly, her hands were against his chest, her fingertips hot as she shoved him backwards until he slammed against the stone wall.

  Her fingers grappled at the button and zipper of his pants and then yanked roughly. A long tear ripped through the expensive slacks. His cock sprang free, but his relieved groan was cut short when Molly’s fingers wrapped around his shaft.

  “Did you care much for those?” she asked, her eyebrow raised mischievously.

  “Very much so,” he groaned.

  His hips thrust into her grip. She gave a test stroke and his breath caught.

  “Are you going to take me to the dungeons?” she asked.

  She waited for his reaction as she again moved her hand up and down his length. She gave a quick twist over the head of his cock, making him swear.

  “I had a different…punishment in mind,” he managed to say as her hand moved faster.

  He laid his hand on her shoulder’s hot skin and pressed down. She smiled and glanced down at his cock. She then lowered herself down to her knees, and Callum couldn’t help but throw his head back against the wall. He looked down at her hot tongue dragging along his balls.

  “Have I been bad, Callum, Your Grace?” she asked sweetly, kissing the tip of his head.

  He grinned at her use of his name and title, and groaned. “You have no idea.”

  More words, nasty, dirty, filthy words, slipped from Callum’s lips as Molly started sucking his dick, but he had little recollection of what he was saying as the long-denied pleasure coursed through his entire body. One of her hands held the base of his cock and the other cupped his balls, rolling the sack between her fingers. She grinned up at him with her tongue along the base of his shaft and his head against the back of her throat. He wasn’t even sure if it was English that poured forth. It wouldn’t have surprised him at all if a Scottish Gaelic swear word echoed about the empty hallway. He was losing his mind.

  A long ragged groan escaped him when Molly’s hand ghosted down his thigh and disappeared. When he looked down and saw her hand between her legs, he gritted his teeth and pounded his fists against the stone to keep from coming straight down her throat. With hazy eyes he watched as she sucked his cock, fingering herself on her knees below him. Her curls clung to the sheen of sweat across her forehead and her eyelashes looked impossibly long with her eyes closed as she bobbed her head along his length. He was too late to stop his hips from thrusting forward into her mouth, but she merely smiled up at him, lips wrapped around his head.

  Knowing he wouldn’t last much longer with her hot, wet tongue on him, he tapped on her shoulder and his cock fell from her mouth.

  “Are you going to fuck me now?” she asked, defiantly standing up.

  Her hand still worked at her pussy and her breath came in little gasps from her shining, red lips. As he stepped forward, she stepped back, moaning as her fingers moved faster. He stepped forward again. She stepped back. Again and again, that little dance. Her back finally hit the wall, her eyes darkening. He could smell her desire, like the finest and muskiest perfume.

  “I am not going to fuck you sweetly,” he said, his voice low.

  Her body began to lean into his, but he kept his heaving chest just inches from hers. A needy whimper escaped her lips. His cock twitched at the dirty little sound.

  “I am not going to ease my cock into your wet pussy with tender words whispered in your ear.”

  She sagged against the wall, and it took every ounce of self-control to keep from reaching for her. She’d moved her finger from her clit and replaced it with two fingers, plunging them deep inside her vagina. Her eyes flickered down to the girth of his penis and she added a third.

  “Callum,” her gentle voice begged. “Please.”

  “I am going to thrust fast and hard into you and tug at your hair and bite at your nipples until you come screaming.” His voice was almost shaking at the end. “But I’m not going to stop. I’m just going to fuck you harder and faster and rougher, and you’ll claw at my back begging me to never stop.”

  With hooded eyes and tits shining with a glisten of sweat, she looked up at him.

  “You better stop fucking talking and do it.”

  He grinned wickedly. In one swift motion, he planted his strong hands on her waist, lifted her and slammed her down on his painfully throbbing cock. There was the sound of her back slamming into the wall as they both groaned in the hot, unmoving air of the castle hallway and then there was just the sound of their heavy breathing as Callum did just as he said he would.

  Her fingers clung to his shoulders as he slammed again and again into her. She whimpered against his neck as he yanked at her curls, damp from the sweat on her back. She gasped as he scraped his teeth against her nipple and squeezed the other between his fingers. His arm supported her ass as she writhed against the stone wall. With each harder and faster thrust, she grew louder and more desperate.

  He felt her tighten around him, her thighs clinging to his waist and her nails digging into his skin as she came. But her scream came when he gave her not a moment’s time to come down from her orgasm, but instead did as he had promised her and kept fucking her through it. Her head fell back against the stone, hair falling into her eyes, which had fluttered closed while Callum preyed on her neck. To his surprise, she seemed to rally; her eyes opened, she hefted herself up, and then she looked down at him, eyes hazy and dark, cupped his neck and ground her hips down as he thrust up, driving his cock even further inside of her.

  She wanted more. She wanted all he could fucking give her.

  So he gave it to her. He panted as she moaned his name again and again. Her whole body shook and he felt his legs shaking as he himself drew nearer to his climax.

  “Fuck, I’m…” she gasped. “I’m gonna come again.”

  He pinned her tighter against the stone to keep her up, grabbing both her wrists and holding them above her head right on the wall. He looked at her, debauched and writhing and moaning his name. Her chest heaved, reddened tits bouncing with each thrust.

  “Come,” he ordered. “I want to watch you.”

  Her mouth fell open and again the delicious heat around his cock tightened, and after driving his dick deep inside her one last time he came at the same time she did. He rested his head against her breasts as his hips twitched and his heart thudded. Delicate fingers intertwined in his hair, and he felt her press her lips gently to his head. He kissed the swell of each breast and she shivered when he swirled his tongue around her still peaked nipple.

  She let out a succession of small breathless laughs until finally Callum had the energy to look up at her.

  “You sound happy,” he managed to croak out.

  “Oh I am. I’ve never been fucked by a duke before,” she said with a grin.

  He shook his head and winked. “I’ve never been fucked by a world-famous painter.”

 
; She smiled and played with his hair as he pressed more sweet kisses to her chest, relishing the swell of happiness in his own chest.

  “You’re staying,” he said.

  She hesitated, then said, “I can only stay for a few more days. But if you want me to stay, I’ll stay.”

  Chapter Nine

  Molly

  It just so happened that the day after Callum Phillip MacGreggor Harding, his Grace, the Duke of Roxburghe, fucked her brains out, was the day of the famous Scottish Highland Games, and Molly was thrilled when Callum invited her to attend Roxburghe’s version of them with him. Now, a mild wind swept over the wild tall grasses, fluttering through the white and blue flags. It was coming from the moss-covered trees of the dense forest lining the fields.

  If she could paint any smell, this would be the one.

  The air buzzed with excitement as the crowds increased. The competitors were readying themselves, and kegs burst forth. Molly had her own pint, which she kept sipping as she glanced around for Callum. He’d had to finish a call, so Mack had driven her here early. Their first stop, of course, had been the bustling beer stand, and then Molly had wandered around the grounds by herself.

  She paused to watch the burliest men she’d ever seen practice throwing logs across the grasses. She was also secretly waiting for confirmation that the men did, indeed, go commando under those kilts. That had always been a curious thing to her.

  She grinned and shook her head, still not quite believing she was actually standing there in a borrowed pair of Wellies, about to watch the Highland Games with a duke—no, a man—who’d ripped her bra off her and talked dirtier than any dirty talk she could have possibly imagined.

  She’d been hell-bent on marching straight out that castle door. She’d sworn there’d be absolutely nothing to stop her, and then he spoke. To be commanded by him sent the most unexpected and strong thrill right down her spine. She’d heard everything in his voice—the slip of control, the weakening of restraint, the failing of his facade. If she could finally snap that cord, and reap the benefits of his huge cock driving up into her, pressed up against the wall…

  Seeing that untamed side of his had been everything she’d wanted and more. Those wild, ravenous eyes had lit within her an urge to capture every little detail. As he’d stood across from her, her hand fumbling with his belt as he stared at her half-naked form, her fingers had itched for a paintbrush, a pencil, anything. She would’ve drawn on the wall, sketched on the floor, painted across the back of his shirt, flung hastily to the side.

  Now, standing quietly in the grasses, she briefly closed her eyes and brought that memory to the forefront of her mind.

  He’d fucked her with all the passion and savagery she’d known was hidden within him, and he’d given her the best orgasms she’d ever had. It had made her want more. She’d been greedy, hungry, impatient.

  She still was.

  She wanted to do it all with him again and again.

  Maybe she’d be able to make it through the games without ravaging him, but she wasn’t making any promises.

  With a hazy smile, she opened her eyes and excitedly searched for Callum.

  When she spotted him, however, she was left confused.

  Bare-chested and burly men parted on either side of him. They were wearing nothing but kilts, high socks, and scowls, holding in each of their hands overflowing pints. The ruckus of foul-worded taunts and unrepeatable insults faded away.

  Emerging from this rough-and-tumble crowd was Callum, still in his well-tailored suit.

  With a stern face, he walked right toward Molly.

  Only when he was standing right in front of her, away from gamesmen who returned to their cheer and their drinking, did he allow himself a small, sweet smile. She saw in his eyes the same rush of excitement at seeing her that she felt at seeing him, but it was contained and reserved. Once more, he showed only the part of him that was polished and refined. But Molly didn’t want a pearl. She wanted a diamond in the rough.

  “Apologies for being late, Miss Rose,” he said with a slight bow of his head. “Shall we sit?”

  She nodded, and Callum guided her with a hand on her back in the opposite direction of the main audience stands. With slight disappointment, Molly looked at the cheering crowds waving their blue and white ribbons, thinking how fun it would be at the center of all that energy.

  “The family has a private stand,” Callum explained.

  They arrived at a tent that housed chairs and a table set up with refreshments and drinks. As they sat in their seats, Molly was well aware of how quiet it was.

  “Your mother will be here soon,” Mack said just before he left the tent. “Off to make sure everything’s all right with security.”

  The crowds hollered as the next contestant in the shot put stood in the ring. Molly tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair and glanced over at Callum.

  “Waiting for the tie-tying contest?” she asked casually.

  He kept his attention on the games as the contestant spun round and round before releasing the heavy ball from his shoulder.

  “No,” he answered. “My event is the tossing of persistent, nosy Americans.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “What happened to log tossing?”

  He still didn’t look at her. “Scarcity of trees. Plenty of persistent, nosy Americans.”

  Her laugh made her choke, and she crossed her arms with mock indignation.

  “Lots of persistent, nosy Americans, eh? A lot that suck your dick out in the open in your castle?”

  That was what finally tore his eyes from the competition, and he checked around the empty tent. He leaned over. “Rest assured, Molly,” he whispered, “you are the first.”

  There was a flash in his eyes, and she knew he remembered it just as she did. So where was that man who’d pinned her against the wall and had his filthy way with her?

  “You should be out there,” she said.

  His brow furrowed and his jaw tightened, so she knew she was pushing buttons. But hell, she was a persistent, nosy American. It was her job.

  “The people want to see you out there, not hiding away in here.”

  “I’m not hiding.”

  Well, that was a lie. She suspected Callum knew it was too. Those walls around him were building up again. Brick by brick. A new tactic was clearly required.

  She lowered her voice and walked her fingers across his thigh. “You know, I wouldn’t mind seeing you out there in a kilt.”

  He grabbed her hand and placed it back into her lap and made some comment about the next competitor, pointing the man out without looking over at her. Molly crossed her arms and huffed petulantly. Then, without telling him why, she stood and marched straight out of the tent.

  “Where are you going?” he shouted.

  She knew he’d call after her and waved a dismissive hand back at him.

  “If you’re not going to compete, I will.”

  Once again, she really had no plan. She didn’t know if she could even name all the games, let alone compete in any of them. But she was going to bring out Callum’s true nature one way or the other, even if she had to piss him off to do it.

  As she stepped onto the far corner of the mowed field, a firm hand was suddenly on her wrist. Smiling fakely at the crowd, Callum turned his green eyes down to her.

  “What do you think you’re doing, Miss Rose?” he hissed.

  She stood as tall as she could and lifted her chin up at him.

  “One of us is going to go out there with a kilt on and compete,” she challenged. “Either me or you. Who will it be?”

  He gave a frustrated groan and moved to pull her back toward the privacy of the tent. But she slipped her hand loose and continued along the edge of the field. A few spectators stared at her. Again, Callum caught up with her, maneuvering around her to block their view.

  “Get back to the tent.”

  She couldn’t help but grin. His tone briefly showed a hint of the man she was
looking for, the man he should be, the man he was. A single strand of his styled hair hung over one eye. She wanted nothing more than to mess it up even more.

  “Stop grinning and get back to the tent,” he commanded.

  Molly shook her head. “No.”

  Callum looked surprised. “No?”

  “I’m looking for a discus.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  “Do you know where they are?” she asked, dodging to the side to step around him.

  He blocked her path and pointed over her shoulder, gritting his teeth.

  “Get your ass back to the tent.”

  Molly pointed a finger straight into his chest. “Get your ass into a kilt.”

  Suddenly, he grabbed her and tossed her over his shoulder, making her yelp as he walked back to the tent. She pounded her fists on his back even as she noted the raised eyebrows and open mouths of some of the spectators and competitors.

  She squirmed against him as he continued past the chairs and around to the side. He plopped her down and she promptly fell right on her ass in the mud. It was quiet behind the tent, but Molly shoved herself to her feet and fully intended to change that. Before she could say a word, Callum, pacing angrily back and forth, glared at her and beat her to it.

  “You are insufferable, do you know that? You push and push. Nobody asked you to come here and push.”

  She was just as angry. “You asked me to stay. Here, with you. Maybe it’s because you need someone to push you.”

  “I need someone who obeys me,” he shot back.

  “Well, that’s not me.”

  “Oh yeah? That wasn’t true last night.”

  “Last night, I was under the lure of your filthy words and your big cock. Now, in the clear light of day, I’m different. Even I can’t predict what I’ll do.”

  He dragged his fingers through his hair and paced. Back and forth. Back and forth. “Yes, I know how different you are. All this started with you not obeying anything, anyone. You just stepped over a rope blocking a hallway in my castle. There’s a goddamn sign that says ‘No’ and yet you say ‘Yes.’”