Faye's Sacrifice (Borderland Rebels Book 1)

by Madeline Martin

  He paused at the top of her sex and circled his thumb over an area that made stars dance behind her closed lids. She cried out and arched into him, needing more.

  “Ye like that as well, aye?” His voice was gruff, his breathing ragged, the arousal between his legs so wonderfully hard.

  He probed a finger inside of her as his thumb played over the swollen bud of her core. “And this?”

  A whimper of helpless desire slipped from her lips. “Aye,” she panted.

  “I want ye so damn bad, Faye.” He moved his hand against her, and inside of her, until everything in her began to tense.

  She opened her eyes slowly as she lowered her head to gaze at him with the full force of her sensuality. “Then have me.”

  He slid his touch from her, leaving her hot and aching to be sated.

  She flexed her body against his. “Tell me what to do.”

  The corner of his mouth quirked up in a half-smile. “I thought ye said ye werena biddable.”

  She lifted a brow. “I’ll decide if I want to obey or not.”

  “Feisty lass.” He grinned. “Stand up and take off yer robe.”

  She eased off his lap. The sash hung in a loose knot, nearly undone. She pulled it free and pushed the heavy weight of the robe from her shoulders.

  It slid off, leaving her in the ill-fitting nightrail.

  “I’ll assume ye want this off as well?” She fingered the linen, lifting it slightly for him to see the tops of her knees.

  A muscle clenched in his jaw. “Aye.”

  “As ye bid me,” she said playfully. She kept her movements measured as she drew it off her, revealing herself one tantalizing inch at a time before letting the garment flutter to the ground. Naked and unabashed, she stood in place, allowing him to look upon her.

  His gaze carefully, slowly trailed over her. The place between her legs was still damp from where he’d touched her and thundered with a pulse of lust that made her ache with yearning. His gaze settled on her breasts, and her nipples went hard, eager for the heat of his mouth on them again.

  “I believe ’tis yer turn.” She propped a hand on her hip.

  “Did ye say something?” His brows lifted as he returned his focus to her eyes. “I thought I was the one giving instructions.”

  She stepped closer to him and pulled his hand to bring him upright. “Mayhap, I have my own demands too.”

  “Are ye a demanding lass?” he asked in a low, sensual voice. As he rose, he trailed his fingers up her inner thigh and over the slit of her sex.

  Her eyes closed briefly, reveling in the wave of bliss that threatened to buckle her knees. “Please me well, and I may become even more demanding,” she whispered.

  “Do ye promise?” He lifted the leine from over his head, revealing his sculpted torso once more. Now it was her turn to gaze openly at him, over the shadowy valleys and chiseled bands of his powerful body.

  He closed the distance between them and pulled her against him as he lowered his mouth to hers. His skin was smooth and warm, the hair sprinkled over his chest rasping just enough to tease at her heightened sensitivity.

  Her fingers wandered over his back, his chest, his stomach, sampling his raw strength, reveling in it. His breath sucked in when her fingertips grazed the area beneath his navel. She broke off the kiss and looked to his lower stomach. A line of dark hair trailed from his navel and disappeared beneath the waistband of his trews.

  How deliciously tempting.

  She traced that line with her fingernail, the pressure intentionally delicate so he would sense it rather than feel it. The massive column of his arousal straining against the leather twitched, and she almost moaned in anticipation.

  “I think ye forgot something.” She hooked a finger into his waistband.

  “Are ye ordering me to remove these?” he asked.

  She caught one of the ties of his trews and pulled. “Aye.”

  He tilted his head in acquiescence. “If my lady commands…” He pulled free the second tie, and his straining arousal burst free.

  Faye gasped at the male member, having never seen one before. Thick and swollen with lust, it stuck out from his body like a pole. As much as she didn’t want this marriage, she had to admit her husband was not only handsome but finely made. All of him. She stretched her hand toward his sex and curled her fingers around the hot, silky shaft.

  He would never have her heart, she knew, but she would gladly be his in body. Again and again and again.

  Ewan issued a tight groan as Faye wrapped her delicate hand around his cock.

  “’Tis so hard,” she marveled, her eyes bright as they met his.

  “Ye do that to me,” he ground out as she stroked her touch over him in exploration.

  “As ye make me slick with yearning.” With one hand on his prick, she slipped the other hand between her legs and brought it back to his cock, swirling her dampness over the spongy head.

  Jesu.

  Ewan leaned his head back at the extreme pleasure of her touch.

  “Do ye like this?” she asked.

  When he gazed at her once more, he found a wicked smile curling her lips.

  “Aye,” he grunted.

  He pushed his trews to the ground, so he stood fully nude before her. “Go to the bed,” he commanded.

  He’d never been one to demand anything of a woman. Certainly, Lara had been biddable, and he would never have ordered her so. But there was a give and take of power between Faye and him that made his prick go hard enough to explore it.

  She smiled. “Nay.” Her hand traced up and down his cock, her movements tantalizing and teasing all at once. The minx.

  He kissed her, using his tongue and lips to play over her mouth, as his touch wandered back down her body to her slick core. He found the nub of her desire and circled it with his thumb until her knees bent slightly.

  She panted against his mouth even as she kissed him back. Her body rolled in the rhythm of his caress, eager for more. Meanwhile, her hand moved over him, gliding, squeezing, stroking, driving him nearly mad with need.

  “Do ye want this?” he asked.

  Her hand tensed around him. “Aye.”

  “The bed,” he growled.

  She exhaled and pulled him with her. He touched her body as they walked slowly together, caressing her waist and arse, cupping her breasts. Each new touch elicited a little breathy moan that went straight to his arousal.

  When they reached the bed, she arched against him and tugged at the back of his neck in an attempt to drag him down to the mattress. He lowered over her, where he remained, hovering atop her body, his cock straining with the need to thrust inside her.

  He nudged the head of his arousal against her wet center and tensed with as much anticipation as dread.

  The consummation hadn’t gone well with Lara. She’d been timid, afraid of his aroused state when she’d seen him. Though he’d tried not to hurt her, she’d given him a wounded look when he’d taken her maidenhead and had silently cried. He’d stopped immediately, and it took several more months until they attempted such intimacy again.

  He didn’t want that again. Not with Faye or any other woman.

  He braced himself over her, careful not to allow his weight to settle atop her.

  Faye writhed underneath him, arching and squirming. “Is something amiss?” she asked breathlessly. “Or do ye mean to kill me with waiting?”

  Her cheeks and lips were flushed with pleasure. Jesu, she was finely made. And lusty. A bonny lass with a sharp tongue he wanted to set to better use.

  His stomach curled into a knot as he gently nudged deeper inside her.

  Faye’s lashes fluttered. “I want ye,” she whimpered. “All of ye.”

  He flexed his pelvis forward, easing in slightly more. The grip of her sheath was impossibly tight, as though trying to squeeze him back out.

  His breath came hard and stirred her unbound hair. “It will hurt.”

  Faye lifted her hips. “Do all
of it at once rather than dragging it out.”

  Still, he hesitated.

  Her brow lifted, her eyes flashing with a challenge. “I demand ye take me.”

  His cock twitched at such a request from her sweet lips. She gasped with pleasure, clearly having felt the movement within her.

  “’Tis an order, then?” he confirmed.

  She lifted her hips. “Aye.”

  He balled the bedclothes in his hand and pushed into her, forcing his way through her delicate barrier until he was fully sheathed. Tight, so damn tight. Sweat prickled on his brow.

  She hissed an inhale.

  “Forgive me.” He began to lift off her when her legs curled around his waist and locked him against her with a delicious squeeze of her core.

  “I’ve waited the whole of my adult life for this moment.” Faye’s calves crossed over his lower back tensed and drew him down to her. “The pain will pass.”

  He hesitated despite her certainty.

  “Women talk,” Faye said with a smile. “The more ye move, the easier I adjust to ye.” She wriggled her arse, and a fresh tingle of pleasure rushed through him.

  “The more pleasure I will feel,” she continued in a throaty whisper. “Ye asked to know what I liked, what I wanted…”

  He eased from her carefully, then nudged back in. Her brow furrowed with concentration, and her lips parted.

  “Touch me,” she said. “Like ye did before.” She took his hand and guided it to her sex.

  His fingers moved between their bodies as he found the swollen bud and played over it. Almost immediately, the impossible squeeze of her sheath on his cock relaxed. Still tight, but not intense.

  Her eyes closed, and she leaned her head back. “Aye.”

  He moved within her, gliding in and pulling back in slow motions. Each shift sent waves of bliss through him. Every muscle in his body ached with stiffness as he took extra effort to ensure he didn’t cause her discomfort.

  All at once, the small line at her brow smoothed, and her lips parted around a moan. The forced arch of her body with his became a natural roll, gliding together in the same instinctive rhythm.

  She was enjoying their union. His ballocks went tight at the realization, and he was flooded with an eagerness to please her. He continued to play with the bud of her sex and increased his pace.

  Her core clenched around him again. This time, however, it was not pain that made it grip him, but the warning of her impending release. He thrust faster and deeper until she cried out. Her sheath spasmed around his cock, a shudder of pleasure.

  His climax exploded through him and roared from his chest like a beast. When at last the final shivers of euphoria drained from his body, he lay on the bed beside Faye, careful to keep his weight from her.

  He glanced tentatively toward her, dreading the possibility that she might be upset afterward, as Lara had been. “If I hurt—”

  A finger pressed to his lips. “Don’t say ye won’t touch me again.”

  He looked to Faye and found her watching him with a languid smile, her eyes half-closed, and her hair mussed from their efforts. The air held the musk of sex and sweat, a perfume that was satisfyingly erotic. His entire body felt as though his bones had melted in his limbs.

  Never had he been so thoroughly sated through coupling as with Faye.

  “I fully intend to do that again quite soon,” she said.

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead and stroked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I dinna want to hurt ye.”

  Something flashed in her eyes, but she said nothing, offering him a simple smile instead.

  He pushed up from the bed and cleaned himself before wetting a linen to bring to her. He hated to make a comparison between his wives but couldn’t help recalling how Lara had snatched the cloth and curled away from him to wipe at her virgin’s blood.

  Faye parted her thighs at his approach, revealing herself and the smear of blood for him to clean her. When the cloth touched her, she closed her eyes and sighed with longing.

  Ewan moved the linen over her carefully, stroking her clean. His fingertip brushed the little bud at the top, and she gave a quiet gasp.

  “Again,” she whispered. “Please.”

  He thought she’d been jesting about indulging this evening. Even if she wished for another bout of coupling, he was not comfortable claiming her again, lest he truly hurt her the next time.

  But it didn’t mean he couldn’t please her. Especially when she was so wonderfully sensitive.

  He moved his thumb over the nub as he continued to swipe the linen over her. Her nipples drew taut, and her face relaxed with enjoyment.

  “Like that?” he asked.

  “Please don’t stop,” she breathed.

  He wouldn’t stop for all the coin in Christendom. This time as he plied her pleasure with his hands, he had the good fortune to watch her. Bliss flitted over her face, making her mouth soft and her cheeks flush.

  Her whimpers pitched, and he knew she was near release. His thumb flicked faster, and her breasts rose and fell with her quickened breath. Her brows knit together as the sensations overwhelmed her, and her sex clenched beneath the cloth as she climaxed a second time.

  He withdrew the linen, and her knees fell to the side, her body limp. Finally drained, or so it appeared.

  He set aside the cloth and returned to the bed with her. She rolled toward him and rested her head on his chest.

  He settled a hand over her curved hip and swept his fingers over her smooth skin. Lara surfaced in his head again, unbidden. They had never shared passion such as what he’d just experienced with Faye. Nothing even close.

  Had that been his fault? Was that part of what had led to the coldness that settled between them?

  Guilt clenched his soul. He stroked a hand down Faye’s silky, golden hair. “I promise to be a good husband to ye.”

  “Ye’re off to a fine start,” she murmured.

  He chuckled at her ready response. Faye had a fine wit that paired well with the fire of her spirit.

  Beautiful and lusty and brave. It would not be difficult to show a woman like Faye that he cared for her. Indeed, it was far too easy to consider the idea that he might sincerely fall in love.

  7

  Faye prolonged waking the following morning. She snuggled against Ewan’s side, where she wished to remain for the rest of the day. Well, not simply lying next to him.

  She craved Ewan’s skilled fingers on her and the hard length of his arousal gliding inside her. He shifted, waking.

  She slid one leg over him, the movement slow and sensual. There was no secret in what she needed. She’d spent too long being curious about experiencing what existed between men and women.

  Now she knew in body what she’d suspected in mind. And she wanted it again and again and again, like manna for her starved body.

  “Faye.” His voice was gravelly with sleep.

  “Stay with me.” She kissed his chest. Her fingers ran down his torso toward his cock, which she found hard and hot.

  “I canna.” He shifted her hand away gently. “I’ve got to meet with Monroe this morn.” He rolled on to his side and looked down at her. His hair was rumbled from sleep, and his powerful body was carved with muscle where he held himself up.

  He stroked her cheek. “Ye’re so verra lovely, Faye.”

  She loved how he said her name—in a single syllable with his rich, rumbled timbre, cut short by his Scottish burr.

  She nuzzled into his touch and parted her lips over his blunt thumb.

  He uttered a silent curse and drew her to him, his cock hard and insistent as it pressed between her legs where she was already damp with need. They took one another in a quick, desperate passion that left them both gasping for breath after, while their hearts galloped in their chests.

  When he finally rose from their shared bed, it was with apparent regret. He washed quickly and slid out the door, promising to have a bath sent up to her chambers. Faye lingered a momen
t longer in the warm tangle of sheets, then pulled herself from the soft mattress and crossed through the door connecting their chambers together. Her room was the same size as his, with a fine bed of a similar build—four carved posts and heavy, red curtains hanging from the sides. At the base of the bed was a chest for her wardrobe and by the wall near a shuttered window, a table with a comb resting atop it and various bottles. A small wooden tub already sat near the hearth.

  This was her chamber and hers alone. How many times had she longed for such luxury?

  Yet now, the very thought of Clara and Kinsey tugged at her heart. She would sacrifice the fine room and all the space for the opportunity to be at home with them again.

  A red-haired maid entered the room, a woman several years older than Faye. The lines around her eyes crinkled as she smiled. “Good morrow, my lady. I’m Gavina and will be seeing to ye as yer maid. If ye’d take a seat by the fire, I’ll have yer bath filled. Would ye like a bowl of porridge as ye wait?”

  Faye’s stomach gave a growl of hunger in reply. Despite the many miles she’d walked the day before in her bid to escape her grandfather, she’d eaten little more than a few bites of bread and meat. She could have eaten more in the room with Ewan, but then he’d started asking so many questions. Wanting to know her.

  What they’d done instead had been far more appealing. Indeed, the recollection made a sensual heat warm between her thighs.

  Faye covered her stomach with her hand and gave a little laugh at her apparent hunger. “I think porridge would be fine. Thank ye.”

  Gavina gave a good-natured grin. “I’ll see to that for ye straight away.”

  Within the hour, Gavina had Faye’s stomach filled with food, and she’d been thoroughly bathed and washed in a tub of rose-scented hot water and laced into a fresh kirtle. Unfortunately, the garment Moiré had kindly lent her was as ill-fitting as the nightrail had been.

  Gavina tsked over the short hem with a frown. “I’ll have yer kirtle from yesterday washed and repaired by the morrow. For now, I can let loose the hem and measure ye for some new garments.”

  She set to work nipping the stitches from the bottom of the kirtle with a pair of sharp-tipped scissors, then took down a number of measurements. She was just finishing when a knock came from the door.