“By God, woman, ye’ve a fire in you. Come here.” He slid his hands beneath her arms and lifted her toward the middle of the mattress. The bed creaked as he threw himself next to her, his mouth devouring her pearled neck. The warm sucking felt heavenly, and she shuddered in anticipation of what that would feel like on her breast. He threw one long thigh between hers, and its sinews caressed the ache between her legs. Her fingers splayed across his back, feeling the hard muscles beneath the warm skin. As he shifted downward, her fingertips learned the movements of his strong back.
Somewhere in a nearly forgotten part of her mind was the memory of her bridal trousseau, and of the new lace sleeping gown she was supposed to wear to bed for him. A voice growing ever fainter admonished her to have her bed turned down, comb out her hair, or at the very least have the common decency to remove her shoes.
But as he pulled down on the hem of her bodice, tearing at the delicate fabric with his mighty strength and laving at her exposed nipple, none of that mattered. Their hunger for each other drove them forward inexorably, their bodies demanding to be united as mates. It was animal. It was feral. It was heaven.
He reached under her dress and stroked her stockinged leg from ankle to pink garter. She felt a rush of honeyed lust course between her thighs. Sensing her readiness, he slipped a finger inside her and was met with a slippery passage.
He sat upon his haunches. Her eyes became slits as she gazed upon him. He looked like a conquering warrior,
a man about to ravage a captured female. Underneath the fabric of his cobalt kilt, his full erection threatened both pain and pleasure. His mouth hanging open, he gripped one slippered foot and threw it to the other side of his thigh. Now she was defenseless before him, her legs scissored open like a wanton on the dark streets of London. His eyes boring into hers, he lifted the skirts of her wedding dress all the way up to her waist.
She was exposed to his eyes—and to his cock. The memory of her dream came flooding back, except that their roles had been reversed.
Her
body was now at
his
mercy.
Her rapid breathing caused her breasts to rise and fall over her bodice. Anticipation thrilled her senses as she tried to read his next move. There was so much of him she wanted to see, to touch. But she was already wet for him, and she wanted him
now
.
“Do ye know how long I’ve wanted to do this, to see that look upon yer face? Now there’s another look I want to see, and I’m no’ going to stop until I get it.”
He gripped her by the ankles and yanked her toward him. She gasped as her body slid onto his thighs. One deft move later, she found her calves upon the curve of his elbows. Never in her whole life had she felt so vulnerable. Blood rushed through her body, hips to head, as she contemplated the impending penetration.
She felt the woolen kilt rasp her backside as he yanked it upward. And then she felt his member, tall and rock-hard, at the mouth of her splayed opening. Fearfully, she gripped the bed coverings, twisting the fabric in her nervous fingers.
He leaned forward, simultaneously entering her with his cock. She gasped sharply, his thick cock stretching her to the limit. Her unyielding tightness pained her, her
vagina unused to the assault of so large a member. She winced, wishing for the hurting to recede. Had she been a maid, she would never have been able to accommodate him.
His face was mere inches from hers, and he watched her intently as she took him in. Her hands clutched the muscles behind his arms, her nails biting into the flesh, returning pain for pain. His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared, but he absorbed her stabs just as she took the piercing he gave her. Yet he waited, patiently, as she adjusted to his girth.
When her nails released him, he moved. Slow, steady thrusts at first, stoking the fire that had sputtered when the pain of penetration left her winded. But when that fire blazed to life again, it began to burn her up, and only Malcolm could extinguish it for her.
He kissed her mouth, his tongue dancing upon her own, and she moaned at the double penetration. His thrusts became shorter, faster, and she gasped for air. She was one long sleeve for his penis. Her body rocked upon the bed, the headboard banging against the wall. She thrashed upon the bed, crying his name and gasping for release. The invisible thread that held her control in check stretched tauter and tauter, until finally it snapped and pleasure exploded through her body.
Involuntarily, her body squeezed upon his still-erect member, organically pumping upon his penis to draw in his seed. When the fog cleared, she found him staring at her in seductive amusement.
“That’s the look I wanted to see.”
“Oh, Malcolm,” she cried, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I love you so much.”
He smiled. “Come. I’ll give ye a chance to love me again.”
Her legs slid down his sides, and he sat upon his haunches, taking her with him. Now she was seated upon his member, supported by his hands clasped under her bottom. Her hips were unaccustomed to the rocking motion, so Malcolm helped her move upon him. Her breasts bounced over the shredded bodice, giving him something to kiss while she thrust herself upon his shaft. Though her need had been sated, she found the movement upon him to be very stimulating. But she wanted to watch his expression as her body accelerated his pleasure. He closed his eyes, a deep moan rumbling in his massive chest. Her arms upon his wide shoulders steadied her as she sped up her movements, creasing his brow. As he begged for his release, Serena exulted in the feeling of power over his unresisting body. She stroked the hair at the back of his neck, something she knew brought him pleasure, and watched as his orgasm hastened. Suddenly every muscle in his body tightened, bringing them more snugly together, and his body shuddered in a lightning flash of passion.
She accepted inside her all he had to give. As his last shiver died away, she stroked his face. And when he opened his eyes, she grinned at him.
“You’re a passionate animal, Malcolm MacAslan.”
“So we’re fairly matched, then.”
“It would appear so.”
“But now, this animal needs a wee rest.” He threw himself on the bed, basking in the glow of the moment. “Come lay beside me.”
She rested her head on the pillow of his bicep, watching his handsome face. He was a great lion of a man, able to scatter lesser men from his path with just a low growl. But Serena Marsh could bring him low with just an expression of love.
They lay together for some time, his mighty arm
wrapped around her head and her foot stroking the inside of his leg.
He turned to her, the sheen on his pink lips returning as he smiled at her. “Let’s do this properly.”
“Properly?” she asked, bewildered. “I’m no expert, but I thought we did this fairly well.”
He smiled broadly. “Wait here.”
He sat on the side of her bed and began to remove his shoes and stockings. From her vantage point, Serena watched his back in motion. Light and shadow danced upon the muscled V, outlining every unexplored crevice and ridge. He stood up and unbuckled the small leather strap that held his kilt to his narrow waist. The garment slipped to the floor, revealing a pelt of hair above his penis. Its skin was darker than the rest of him, but smooth all the way to the rounded knob. It rested upon his sac, which to Serena’s amusement resembled two eggs in a dark nest. It was naughty and unladylike to regard him so brazenly, but she wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
The servants had left a decanter of wine and some fruit on her tea table. She watched his backside as he padded to her morning room to pour out two glasses. What a beautiful bottom it was, to be sure. Twin squares of muscle perched atop two long thighs, each dented at the hip. Damn that kilt for hiding such a gorgeous feature.
Taking her cue from him, she got off the bed, holding the ends of her wedding dress together at her bosom.
“Where are ye going?” he asked.
“To change into my nightgown.”
Gripping her wrist, he spun her in the opposite direction. “Ye won’t be needing that. Come with me.”
He handed her a glass and took a swallow from his
before setting it on her night table. He spun her around and began to undo the hooks at the back of the dress.
“I certainly made a mess of that,” he said, tossing the tattered garment onto her chair. He looked at the remains of her torn muslin shift. “And that.”
He raised the shift over her head. She met him with a kiss. Their naked bodies touched, lips on lips, skin against skin.
His callused hand rubbed her back. It was scratchy but manly, as was the hair that touched her tummy. He was so delightfully masculine, so ruggedly male, that it called to something naturally female within her.
His hand went to the side of her breast and cupped its heaviness, making her nipples bloom at his touch. The hand then traveled up the side of her face and pulled at the pins holding her chignon in place. One by one, tendrils of blond hair cascaded down her shoulders. He lifted a handful of it onto the back of his hand, and kissed it tenderly.
He threw off the twisted bedcovering, revealing the soft sheets. He bent over, scooped her up, and laid her gently on the bed. He feasted his eyes upon her naked body, and she could almost feel his dark gaze upon her breasts, tummy, and muff. He pulled off her heeled slippers, and one after the other gave the soles of her feet and toes a gentle rub. A grin spread across her face at the relaxing ministration.
The white silk stockings were the last remaining garment. He sat next to her on the bed and tried to unfasten her garters. But they proved tricky to remove, thwarting his best efforts. She struggled to keep from giggling as he pulled on the pink strands. Finally, he got one off and in a fit of pique, threw it across the room.
She chuckled behind her clenched fist. Slowly, he unrolled her stocking, exposing the sensitive skin to the air. With the tips of his splayed fingers, he contoured a path down her leg from upper thigh to ankle. By the time he got to the other leg, the heat had already begun to pool inside her.
With the backs of his fingers, he trailed a path down the very center of her body. The tiny blond hairs all along her core quivered at the tender touch. Her skin demurred from the passing fingers, unaccustomed to their intimacy. Wordlessly, he bent over upon her chest and placed a hot kiss upon her right aureole.
She inhaled sharply at the sensation. It felt as if he was breathing fire upon her already tight nipple. Even so, she lifted the soft breast higher into his sensuous mouth.
When he moved to the left one, a moan escaped her lax mouth. His palm smoothed a trail down her waist and covered the soft fur between her legs. The sensation stimulated her desire to be entered, and she relaxed her legs.
But he ignored the invitation. Instead, he traced each rib and slope of her hips, studying her, learning her shape and contours. His fingers passed through the sensitive valley between her chest and arm, and the skin alongside her bent elbow, taking careful note of her shudders. Her breathing started to come shallower and more uneven, at once enjoying his touch and wanting the sweet torture to end.
“Turn over,” he said, his voice a low whisper.
She did as he said. His hands lifted the blond tresses over her head, exposing her nape. His head descended and she felt his torturous mouth on the back of her neck. She moaned pitiably, delighting in the ravishing
sensation. Something impeded his sumptuous mouth … it was the strand of pearls that still clung to her neck. How she wished they would disappear!
Malcolm climbed over her on all fours. The heat from his body wrapped her in a cocoon of warmth. His mouth kissed her shoulder, feasting upon her back. His tongue flicked a trail down the middle of her back, which undulated with the surprising sensation.
Farther down his tongue went, eliciting a moan with every inch. But when his tongue passed her waist and climbed up the ridge of her lower back, she stiffened. He was leaving no spot on her body unexplored. His hand rubbed the slopes of her bottom, cupping the flesh in his giant hand. She was still wet between her legs from their earlier lovemaking, but a new, hotter flow warmed her passage.
Instinctively, her back arched, jutting her bottom upward. She was ready for him again. Kneeling on the bed, Malcolm lifted her hips up to meet his own. She, too, was on all fours, her legs open for him. Malcolm brought his penis to her caramel-colored curls, and plunged deep inside her.
She moaned loudly, the length of him reaching all the way inside her. She wasn’t sure if it was the primeval position or the erotic caresses beforehand, but his thrusts stoked a ruthless lust within her that she found impossible to contain. His driving hips bounced against her bottom cheeks, making her dangling breasts sway beneath her. She used the headboard to curl upward, closer to Malcolm. He stroked her neck and hair, bringing as much of her body into contact with his as he could.
The closer his body came to orgasm, the louder his grunting became. Her breaths came in short rasps, and before long they had turned into moans that echoed his sounds. The fire grew inside her until she could no longer
withstand the heat. Together they reached their release, exploding with heated pleasure. Together they stayed mated until their breathing evened. Together, they lay entwined until the morning came.