In Bed With A Stranger(30)

He flopped back onto the hay, raising a thin cloud of dust. It smelled  of spring, suiting her mood. Moving down his body, she boldly pushed his  kilt up to expose his cock. The organ was stiff, swollen with the same  need that burned inside her passage. Reaching for it, she clasped it,  stroking the soft skin. It was very hard, making her long to lay back  for his possession.         

     



 

But not just yet.

"Go on, lass."

His voice was tight as though his control was stretched. She enjoyed  that idea. Touching her tongue to the head, she tasted the skin. It was  pleasant, filling her with a sense of control over him and his greater  strength. A soft groan rose from his chest when she licked the slit.  There was a drop of slightly salty fluid hidden there that her tongue  carried away. Opening her mouth she sucked the entire head between her  lips. His hips jerked, thrusting toward her head. His hand grasped her  braid once more, a harsh sound coming from his lips. For long moments  she flicked her tongue over the cock in her mouth. Little thrusts from  his hips moved it in and out. She listened to his breathing turn ragged,  the fingers in her hair tightening. Little zips of pain crossed her  scalp, but they only added to the intensity of the moment. Her body was  so alive with need that every sensation added to the inferno.

"Enough." He pulled her head away from his cock, the head leaving her  lips with a small pop. "Ye've a wicked grasp of applying what ye hear to  the practical act."

He sounded immensely pleased by that fact, too.

"I suppose it's a good thing you don't want a dim-witted wife."

He scoffed at her. "We were both born to the positions that required we  marry well. I'm pleasantly surprised by who ye be without yer father's  lands."

The hand in her hair pulled her back up his body, until they were  face-to-face once again. Clasping her tightly against his chest, he  rolled over, her thighs spreading for his hips. She whimpered when her  skirts got in the way. She loathed the barrier, reaching down to yank  the fabric out of the way herself.

"In fact, I dinnae care a wit if ye're poor as a beggar. I'm going to tumble ye good and hard."

He raised his kilt and the head of his cock pressed against the wet opening to her body.

"Ye'll be tender." He thrust forward, controlling his speed. His body shuddered with the effort. "Easy … "

He didn't sound as if he wanted to enter her softly. His voice had  deepened and roughened. But pain rose from her sheath as it was  stretched by his flesh again. It didn't last as long as last night,  fading into a dull ache almost instantly. Her clitoris begged for  friction.

"Take me, lover."

Her words were as bold as her needs. She heard his swift intake of  breath before he pulled free. With a hard thrust he impaled her again,  pushing his length deep into her body. Sweet enjoyment speared up into  her belly, her back arching to make sure he was lodged completely.

"Aye, lass, that's exactly what I plan to do with ye."

His body jerked, setting up a fast rhythm of hard thrusts. Each one  drove his cock deep before he pulled free for only a mere second. The  skin of their thighs slapped together from the speed and force of his  action. Her hips rose up off the hay to meet each downward motion. Each  stroke drove more delight into her belly until she couldn't endure any  more. Tension knotted around her sheath and the hard flesh stretching  it. She reached for her lover as a cry left her lips. Savage enjoyment  flooded her, ripping her away from any thoughts or concerns. There was  only the pleasure and the hard body of her lover. He growled in her ear a  moment before she felt a spurt of hot fluid hit her deep inside her  passage. His cock jerked as it pumped his seed against the mouth of her  womb. Her passage tightened around his length, milking every drop from  it.

She was suddenly aware of their breathing. It sounded loud against the  silence of the night. Perspiration dotted her skin and the night air was  cool as it blew across her exposed legs. But her lover was warm. His  body weight was caught on his elbows, his chest working like a bellows.  Raising a hand, she placed it against his chest. Her fingertips caught  the hard thumping of his heart.

A soft kiss touched her forehead.

"Did I hurt ye?" He kissed her cheek and then her lips before raising up to look at her face. "Did I?"

"Only when you looked at me with suspicion."

That fragile bond of trust was growing into a web. Surrounded by the night, she felt at ease confessing her feelings. He sighed.

"I was so busy fighting off the urge to tumble ye, I didn't give a damn  about supper. I was trying nae to toss ye over my shoulder like a  raiding barbarian."         

     



 

"Your brother-"

"Was teasing me. So I shot him back a harsh answer."

Her lower lip trembled. She wanted to believe him. Her heart needed to  believe that he trusted her. All of the tender emotions that had begun  to grow deep inside her demanded that she embrace his words.

"Since ye nae have any siblings, ye dinnae ken how they can needle at each other. 'Tis a way of showing affection. I swear it."

He sat back on his haunches, gently closing her legs for her. A firm  hand drew her skirts down to cover her legs, too. A shaft of pain went  through her heart as she considered how true his words were. She often  teased Bonnie, and her brothers were hellions when it came to taunting  one another. Only their mother managed to quiet them.

He drew a stiff breath when she remained silent.

"I suppose I'll have to be patient with expecting ye to trust what I say."

She could hear how much he didn't like waiting for that to happen.

"Come on now, lass. I'd better get ye into a warm bed before ye catch a chill."

He pulled her to her feet, the hay falling off them both. A soft giggle  escaped her lips, surprising her. She hadn't made such a carefree sound  in years. Brodick picked a few larger pieces from her hair, brushing his  hands down her skirt to dislodge what he could.

He clasped her hand in his, silencing her once more. She looked at their joined hands, oddly touched by the simple gesture.

"Helen will tear a strip off my back if ye take ill from lying down in the stable."

"Do you actually think women are so frail, or is it merely because I'm English?"

He turned to look at her. "Aye, I see ye're fine and strong. Maybe I'm a  wee bit overprotective. I know many a lass who would have quarreled  with sleeping on the trail."

He sounded pleased with her. Her heart latched onto that information, clutching it tightly.

"But we've a fine bed waiting for us tonight. As much as I enjoyed the  hay, I believe we'll leave the stable to the horses and the maids."

She laughed at his suggestive comment. "You're a poor example, talking that way."

"What example? Did I nae get married? Have I nae followed ye out of the hall twice to do my husbandly duty?"

"Brodick." She cast a look toward the wall. "Your men are listening."

He leaned close, his breath warm against her ear. "I hope they heard ye yelling with pleasure."

"Oh … " She slapped a hand in the center of his broad chest. The brute chuckled at her temper, tugging her along behind him.

"Come, Wife. Let us to bed."

He raised his voice so that it bounced off the walls. Her face flamed  scarlet with his amusement ringing in her ears. Yet there was also pride  filling her. She could not deny that it pleased her to know that he  wanted everyone to know that he enjoyed having her in his bed.

Many noble brides were not so desired.

If that meant she was guilty of the sin of vanity, so be it.

He took her across the courtyard, several of the men on the walls  peering down at them. Brodick held her hand fast, even when she wiggled  her fingers. Night surrounded them. Even in the tower there was meager  light. Few candles were lit along the walls inside. It was quiet, too,  no one in sight. Brodick led her up the stairs, his boots making no  sound on the stone steps. For so large a man, he moved well. It spoke  volumes about him. His father had clearly seen to his training. No man  learned the art of carrying his weight without tutoring. Boys began  their tutelage at five, the same time daughters began to follow their  mothers to work. Lady Mary had been instructed in dance, movement and  royal service for years before being placed at court.

Brodick pulled her into the chamber they'd shared the night before.  Changes had taken place during the day. Three ornate tapestries covered  the walls near the fire. There was also a matching set of candlestick  holders on a newly arrived vanity table. Made of silver and carved with  artful designs, they held lit candles that filled the chamber with  yellow light.

On the table was a mirror. Anne gaped at the costly item. She couldn't  recall the last time she'd snuck a peek in Philipa's. Such an item was  worth more than the mare she'd ridden to Sterling. The candle flame  flickered off the polished surface of the mirror in a pagan dance that  mesmerized. This was a highly prized possession even for an earl's  house. She reached out, stroking only the silver frame that held the  polished glass. Her reflection joined the flame. Anne stared in wonder  at her face. Her lips were slightly swollen, far sultrier than she'd  ever considered herself. She knew her hair was brown but in the mirror  it shimmered with copper highlights, tiny wisps of it loosened from her  braid by Brodick's hands framing her face. Her skin was creamy and  smooth like fresh cream in the spring when the cows were eating lots of  greenery.