by Madison Faye
I raise a brow at him, and he grins.
“You certainly deserve marrying Iona now.”
The three of them chuckle, but I just shake my head. “I’ve told you, it’s purely—”
“Political, yes, you’ve mentioned that,” he laughs. “But ten bloody years, Lachlan? It’d take a fucking saint to not be tempted by a girl like Iona in the position you’re in.”
“Fuck that. A saint would have caved by now,” Tor snorts.
“I’ll be fine,” I mutter, taking another sip of whiskey.
Callum chuckles, clapping my shoulder.
“We’re just ribbing you, Lach,” he grins. “And all jokes aside, I’m happy for you. We all are.”
The other two nod, jokes pushed to the side as they clink their glasses to mine.
“You’re a good man, Lachlan,” Tor growls.
“Cheers,” Hamish says, raising his glass. “Be you saint or just a man more stubborn than one, congratulations. And you of all men? If you say it won’t be a problem, I believe you.”
And that I can drink to.
Except, it’s a lie of course. Marrying Iona “won’t be a problem?” It’s laughable how wrong it is. I may be a strong man, but with her, I’m weak. With her, my defenses are shattered. She brings me to my knees.
…And she did, quite literally, earlier.
I growl at the memory, the lust and the fire rising inside of me. I’m alone now in my quarters, my friends gone. Catriona’s already come by to say hello, along with another frank but lie-filled talk about “politics.” She even made a joke about Iona carrying on the tradition of my wives keeping separate quarters.
Drinking at this point is a necessary medicine to cover the guilt of my lies, as well as the guilt of my desires. Because the fact of the matter is, there’s nothing that could pull me from this course now. Not after I’ve tasted those lips. Not after I’ve tasted far more than that. I grunt, my pulse thundering and my cock swelling at the memory of pushing Iona’s skirts high and letting my eyes settle on her slick, tight, pretty little cunt. The pink, pouty, dewy lips. The light blonde hair covering her mound. The way she moaned so sweetly. The way she tasted like heaven.
…The way I can still taste her on my tongue.
Whiskey won’t dull it. Time won’t make me forget it. And all my talks and lies of “political reasons” won’t change the fact that the truth is, Iona Campbell is the only woman in this world that I want. She’s what I crave, and desire, and hunger for, above all else.
The truth is, this whole situation with Darcy could be nonexistent, and I’d still be sitting here with my every thought firmly on the very off-limits, very forbidden little temptation lying under my roof—beguiling me, entrapping me, and possessing me.
I knock back the rest of my glass, and I’m reaching for more, when I stop myself. And instead, fire roaring through my veins, I stand. I stand, and I’m on the move, storming out of my quarters and heading down the hallway. It’s late, but I don’t care. I take the stairs quickly, down another hallway, my every step a beat of my heart. My every breath breathed with her name on my lips.
No more dancing around this. No more holding myself back. No more denying myself. No more denying us, actually. Not anymore. My muscles are clenched tight, my blood like fire in my veins when I finally come to a stop at her door. I raise my fist to knock, when I stop myself short.
No.
No knocking.
…She’s to be my wife, after all.
And so instead, I grip the handle, turn it, and swing the door wide as I storm inside, my thoughts and my desires swirling around me like smoke as I barge into her world.
Iona gasps, sitting up in her bed with wide eyes as she grasps the covers to her body.
“My lord!” She swallows, her cheeks pink and her big blue eyes shining even in the low light of the moon through her windows.
“What are—”
“You,” I growl, my voice low as I close the door behind me and point at her.
She shivers.
“You, lass,” I groan, moving towards her. “You’ve bedeviled me.”
Her brows knit.
“Me? This was your idea!”
“Aye, but you—”
“Don’t put this on me,” she spits, her own little storm clouds rolling over her face. “You knew what you were doing, before,” she says quietly.
“As did—”
“No, I didn’t,” she says quietly. She gasps sharply as I come to a stop beside her bed, my eyes blazing down into hers.
“I—I’ve never…” she blushes. “I mean, no one’s ever done that.”
There’s a tenderness to her voice—a softness and an innocence that somehow blows away the clouds surrounding me. My shoulders unclench, as does my jaw, and my eyes soften.
“No?”
Iona shakes her head, and I lower myself to my knees beside her bed.
“And what else has no one ever done,” I growl quietly.
She swallows. “Anything?”
My brows go up. I was quite sure she was a virgin, but… well, there are things girls her age may get up to without giving away it all. And with her being in France for all those years, I assumed…
…It appears I may have done so wrongly.
“Nothing? Not in all those years in Paris as pretty as you are?”
Iona blushes, biting her lip.
“There—there was a Duke’s son.”
I growl—animalistically, possessively. Furious at this little shit of a boy I’ve never even known and never will. But I want to kill him anyways.
“One kiss,” she whispers as my jaw grinds tighter.
“And then I slapped him.”
My teeth unclench, and a grin spreads across my lips. Our eyes lock, and there’s that spark again, burning hot between us.
“And me?” I say quietly. “If I were to kiss you, would you slap me too?”
Iona sucks at her bottom lip, her cheeks flushed and mischief in her eyes.
“I didn’t before, did I?”
“And if I were to chance another?”
Her cheeks grow redder, and I watch her breath catch with a small gasp.
“Perhaps you should find out, my lord,” she whispers heatedly.
She gasps as I move quickly, tugging her bed sheet away and pulling her into my arms. Gods, she smells like honey and flowers, and I want to drink down every drop of her scent.
I move close, and without another second wasted, my lips find hers. Iona moans as I kiss her slow and deep—savoring it, drawing it out, letting the fire burn hotter and hotter until it consumes us both. And when I finally pull away, both of us breathing heavily and both of our pulses roaring, I know.
…I know she’s mine.
“Tell me what else no one’s done, my little bride,” I growl.
“How can I say what I haven’t known, if I don’t know it?”
I move close again, my lips brushing hers.
“Perhaps someone should show you.”
“Perhaps they should,” she moans.
“Come here, sweetness,” I growl. “And let me show you everything.”
Chapter 9
Iona
I crush my lips to his, moaning as he kisses me hard and rough, grabbing me as I melt into him. I’m panting as his tongue finds mine, my head spinning as I open my mouth willingly to him, letting him kiss me exactly how he wants, and loving every second of it. Lachlan pulls back, his eyes fierce as he yanks his tunic off, and I whimper as my eyes drop to his chest.
God is he beautiful.
Lachlan is forty, and yet he’s got the build of a man half his age. He’s brawny and chiseled—muscles hardened and steeled by war and battle. There are lords—even ones who fought in the Crusades like Lachlan—who came home and let themselves go, because it was easy, and because it was comfortable.
Not him.
Ever since I’ve known him, Lachlan has kept himself in perfect shape. Even nowadays, he can be found
down with the kitchen staff in the mornings sometimes, chopping wood for the ovens. And my God does it show. I reach out for him, but I hesitate at the last second—that final leap between fantasy and reality almost too large a divide to take, even when we’ve already gone this far.
“Touch me, lass,” he growls, his eyes wild. “Go ahead.”
I swallow as I let my hands drift the last inch to his skin, and when I touch his body, I moan quietly as my fantasies become real. His muscles ripple beneath warm skin, and my hands move over him as my fingers explore. There are scars here and there—from battles and hardships long ago, but even still, it somehow makes him even more beautiful.
It’s a man’s body, not a boy’s. Hair, bulging muscles, scars, and power, and the longer I touch him, the more I never want to stop touching him.
Lachlan’s hands drift to me, sliding over my waist, meeting in the middle, and then drifting higher. I’m wearing a white dressing gown, my nipples hard and aching against the thin material, and as he drifts higher, his hands skimming up to the tie that keeps it closed, my breath catches. His big fingers tug the string, and with a whimper, I feel my dressing gown falling open. Lachlan growls hungrily, tugging it wider and brushing it off my shoulders. His knuckles brush my nipples, making me moan again, and then they linger there, teasing my breasts as I breathe heavier and heavier.
“So, you mean to tell me, lass,” he growls, moving towards me. “That no one’s touched you here?”
His finger traces over the soft skin of my neck, and I whimper softly as I shake my head.
“No, my lord.”
My pulse races as he moves in, and when his lips tease over the same spot, and then his teeth, I gasp sharply.
“And no one, not one single boy, has laid his hands on these perfect breasts?”
“No, sire,” I moan.
His mouth moves lower, kissing and sucking his way down the soft slope of my breast, and I gasp louder. His mouth finds one of my nipples, sucking it between his lips and swirling his tongue across it, and I gasp, loudly.
“Oh God!” I cry out, arching my back and melting into him as I drop my head back. Lachlan growls, sucking my nipples and groaning as his hands tease over my skin. One pushes lower, down over my tummy, making it cave under his touch as my breath catches. His fingers walk lower and lower, pushing the rest of my nightgown away and moving lower still. My body trembles as he finds the soft downy patch of blonde hair, and when he slides through it down to what he’s after, my heart jumps into my throat.
One big finger slips over my slick, wet, pussy, parting my lips so easily and easing down between them. I moan wildly as his finger bumps over my clit, sending flashes of heat through me as he pushes the tip of his finger lower, against my opening. I moan as he eases it inside, pushing gently but firmly and curling it inside of me. My eyes fly open, and pleasure I’ve never known explodes through me as I cling to him, yanking his head up and kissing him fiercely.
“Lachlan,” I moan, panting his name as he teases my pussy. His finger curls in and out of me, driving me wild before he slides it wetly back to my clit. He rolls the little bud in slow circles, making me cry out into his mouth as I melt for him. My hands tremble as they slide back to him, my fingers walking over his hard chest, and then down to the rippling muscles of his abs. I moan, pushing lower, and lower, until my fingers find the edge of his kilt.
“Careful, little girl,” Lachlan groans. “You don’t know what you might find if you keep going.”
“I have an idea,” I murmur into his lips, panting.
Lachlan groans as he pulls away from my lips, moving fully onto the bed. His hand slides up my legs as he moves between them, spreading them as he positions himself between my thighs. His hands grip his kilt, my eyes locked on the huge bulge I can see tenting the front of it, and slowly, he pulls the garment away completely.
My jaw drops.
God…
Lachlan’s thick, huge cock springs free, gently smacking his firm abs, and my eyes go wide. He’s enormous, and so swollen, and so gorgeous. I whimper as I take him in with my eyes—the thick, pulsing shaft, the swollen, flared head of him, the big, heavy balls hanging beneath his gorgeous cock. It’s so beautiful, and maybe a little frightening at the same time, but I’m spellbound as I stare at him.
“Haven’t seen one before, have you, lass?”
“No, my lord,” I gasp, moaning and biting my lip as my eyes just lock onto him. He drops his hand, and when his fingers wrap around is big cock and he starts to stroke, I whimper. Heat washes over me like a wave, and desire burns fiercely through my veins, and before I can stop myself, I’m sitting up and reaching for him.
I stop just short, my courage wavering and my pulse skipping, but Lachlan just smiles at me, his eyes holding mine.
“Touch it,” he growls. “Touch my cock, little love.”
I moan, panting as I reach out the rest of the way. Lachlan drops his own hand, and when my fingers slide over the velvety smooth, hot, pulsing skin of his cock, I gasp quietly. I slide further down him, my small hand curling around his huge cock, my fingers not even close to touching as something wild blazes through me.
Lachlan’s hand moves between my legs, his fingers finding my dripping wet cunt again and teasing me as I cry out. He rolls my clit as my fingers slide up the length of him and rub his swollen head. He leans in and kisses me fiercely, our tongues mimicking the movements of our hands and fingers, when suddenly, I gasp as he grabs me. He spins me, pulling my back against his bare chest, and the feel of his rock-hard body against my soft one has me moaning as his muscled arms circle me.
He settles my ass back against his abs, and when his big cock pushes up between my thighs to rest against my pussy, I moan as heat thunders through me. Lachlan’s lips find my neck, and as he kisses and nibbles at the skin, raking his teeth over the sensitive spots, his hands delve between my legs. I moan when he touches me, fingers from both hands stroking through my wetness. One hand begins to tease my clit in slow circles, the other spreads my lips and eases a finger against my opening.
I gasp, turning my head and crushing my lips to his as my hand drops down as well. He groans as my fingers curl around his swollen head, stroking and teasing him, and when I push my hips forward, my slippery pussy rocks against his shaft.
“Just like that, little love,” he groans into my mouth. “Let me feel how wet your little cunt is for me. Slide it up and down that big cock for me, lass. Feel how hard you make me right against your pretty pussy.”
I moan excitedly into his mouth, kissing him passionately as my hips start to buck. My pussy slides against his cock, the swollen ridge of his head bumping back and forth across my clit as I start to fall apart for him. His big fingers stroke my cunt along with his cock, one hand sliding up to cup my breasts and tease my nipples. My tongue duels with his again and again, my breath catching and my body aching for release. It’s intimate, and forbidden, and so good, and as my hips roll and as he thrusts his big cock against me over and over again, everything around us starts to catch fire and burn.
“Lachlan…” I moan into his mouth, pushing against him harder and faster—greedily rubbing my pussy over his cock again and again until I’m sure I’m going to shatter.
“Aye, lass,” he groans, his thick brogue and that deep baritone rumbling through my very core as I start to fall.
“I want you to come for me. I want to feel this pretty little cunt come for me. I want it to come all over my cock, little love. I want to feel your honey coating me. One more thing you’ve never felt, and now, it’s mine to claim. Let me feel your pussy come for my cock, little lass. Come for me.”
His swollen head bumps over my clit, his fingers pinch my nipple, and when he kisses me fiercely, suddenly the whole world breaks apart around me. I cry out, moaning my pleasure into his lips as my entire body goes rigid and then shatters for him. The orgasm erupts through me, sending me reeling as the waves of pleasure crash over me again and again, until I’m
gasping into his lips and trembling against him.
Lachlan roars into my mouth, his thick cock thrusting hard between my thighs and sliding up through the lips of my pussy. His cock swells up even harder, and when he grunts, I feel it. He throbs against me, and suddenly, thick, hot, white ropes of his seed arc from his swollen head. I cry out as his hot, sticky cum lands across my tummy, and my thighs, and my cunt, coating me with his spend. He groans, kissing me wildly and bucking his hips again, sliding slickly through his orgasm and mine, and another big spurt of his cum pumps across me, landing between my breasts and trickling down my body as we slowly come to a panting halt.
Everything is on fire.
My body aches for him, my heart swells up, and the emotions almost bring me to tears of joy, when his lips find mine, and his kiss brings me back to earth. I pant breathlessly, kissing him slow and deep and just letting our bodies rock slowly together.
Lachlan’s turns us, letting us fall back into the bed with my back to his body and his arms wrapped tight around him.
“Aye, lass,” he groans against my neck, kissing my skin. “You’re mine, little one.”
“Yours,” I moan quietly, turning my head and kissing him slowly.
“All yours.”
Chapter 10
Iona
“You do realize that technically, Iona’s going to be your stepmother, right?”
Una grins before she and Rhona snort into giggles as Cat shoots them a withering look. She turns to look at me, rolling her eyes as I do the same, flashing her a grin.
“Now, young lady, don’t make me ask you twice to clean your room—”
“That is quite enough of that,” she grumbles as the three of us laugh again.
I grin at her. “Trust me, I haven’t the slightest desire to be your mother.”
“I know,” she smiles back. “And good.”
We’re in one of the guest rooms off in a side wing of the castle, the dress-makers having just left after taking some measurements from me. Luckily, there was a dress already being made for me for an upcoming dinner feast Lachlan had been planning to throw, and with a few tweaks, it’ll be a perfect wedding gown. Which is extra lucky considering the short notice.
