Epilogue A Highland Honeymoon
“ T his isn’t how I planned for us to spend our wedding night,” Douglas growls.
“I’m about five minutes away from pulling you into the pilots’ lounge,” I whisper back.
When you have an evening wedding so that your dear, sweet nocturnal friends can attend, you have to expect that the party might last until dawn.
Or even noon the next day.
But if you have a late afternoon flight to Scotland the day after you get married, then that leaves you with exactly an hour to get your stuff, get in your dad’s car, and hightail it to JFK. Since we’re flying into Inverness Airport, we can’t hop a flight from the nearby Binghamton Airport.
“We should have left earlier—”
“No,” Douglas cuts me off with a big smile. “It was a night worth celebrating.”
“British Airways Flight 456 to Inverness is now boarding.”
So much for a quickie.
I yawn and shoulder my bag, only to find Douglas is already seizing it. “I can carry that.”
“Not today, you can’t. Not today, or for the rest of the honeymoon. You wanted something traditional? Well, I’ve done my best to see to it.” Douglas smirks as he takes all the bags on one side of his body and leaves his other hand free to hold mine.
I juggle our boarding passes and gasp when we’re shown to first class. Our seats even have a little enclosure around them.
Mile High Club?
No. Our first time as a married couple should be loving, and beautiful, and private.
But I also am horny enough to bite through a seatbelt.
Privacy would be traditional. Probably.
Or tradition might involve a heated chase and a rough outdoor claiming, the earth and air the only witnesses to my husband’s frantic rutting as his seed spills inside of me.
My heart flutters. I would love either option.
Although...
“How traditional are we talking?” I know we’re staying in an Orc’s cottage in the Highlands, so I know remote and isolated are a given, but... “Do we have to cut wood? Am I going to have to skin rabbits?” I hiss. That’s so not on my list of honeymoon activities.
Douglas finishes putting our luggage overhead and sits beside me. His phone appears, and he scrolls with a smirk. “This was my grandmother’s little place, but a cousin lived in it until recently. He was planning to offer it to Fiona.”
My mind has to sort through the bunch of Wickstaffs I met over the last three days. “Fiona? She’s the one who just graduated from the University of Edinburgh?”
He nods. “Finlay and Dara’s third child, after Hamish but before Sadie. She wants the lend of it for the winter to write her applications for a fellowship, but come spring she’ll be heading back to York to be near her sweetheart. Cousin Andy has it all fixed up for us. See?” He turns the phone to me with a smile. “Stacks of wood and peat for the fire. Electricity is in good working order, and we’ll only be about five miles from the nearest town. He’s even left a car at the airport for us. He’s off to Australia until February for work.”
I smile at the beautiful, rustic little cottage. It’s small but neat and reminds me of my great-grandmother’s little place in the Outer Hebrides. “That’s so nice of Andy. Your family sounds really generous. Close.”
Douglas shrugs. “They are... But I wasn’t. I retreated into myself after Nicola passed. Avoided everyone and everything. I’m ashamed to admit it, but the first time I’ve spoken to Andy in five years was at Callum’s wedding—and that’s when I found out he was leaving, and I asked him about the cottage.”
“Aww. I’m glad you reconnected with him.”
“Not just him, love. Everyone. I think when they gained a new relative in you, they also regained an absent one in me. Everyone’s welcoming us both.”
“That’s wonderful, and I’m glad.” I flick through the images on Douglas’ phone and notice the stove, an old, square microwave, a big chest freezer, and a beautiful little stream or “beck” outside. “This looks rustic but... well, it’s certainly pretty modern. What’s ‘traditional’ about it?”
Douglas leans over and whispers, “There will be no one but my beautiful bride and her very eager husband for miles, and they’ll be all alone while they discover each other and—and other things.”
My stomach gives a happy, heated twist. “Ooh. What other things?”
“Just the joys of being married and uninterrupted.”
Other people pass, filing into seats. I lean in closer still as Douglas bows his head. My lips touch his ear, and the contact is enough to send us both into a soft groan. “New positions,” I whisper.
“New places.”
A shudder of need makes me stop speaking and just clutch his hand.
Douglas presses his lips to my ear this time, voice a whiskey purr. “When we’re in the air and everything is dark and settled... recline all the way.”
My stomach curls, tight and hot, as I turn to look at him.
“Why?” I mouth as his eyes burn into mine.
Douglas pauses, then pulls the plush blanket provided next to his seat over my lap. His fingers slide between my legs.
My mouth fills with saliva so fast I’m surprised I don’t drool. I can picture lying back in the dark, quiet cabin, enclosed in our first-class “cubby,” while his hand works beneath the comfortable cotton skirt I’m wearing. The rush of adrenaline from the risk of being caught, plus the thought of sneaking an orgasm right under everyone’s nose is... Well, maybe I’m kinkier than I thought.
But no. “I want our first pleasure as a married couple to be together, so we can share it,” I whisper.
My husband (I can call him that now!) kisses me and tucks me in. “I’d like that, too. We need some kip. Neither of us has slept in hours. Maybe even a day.”
“Definitely a day at this point. But on that flight back...” I give him a wicked wink and take his hand.
His chuckle is the last thing I hear. I’m out even before the flight attendants start the safety spiel.
“SIR? WE’RE BEGINNING our descent.”
I sit up and look at my wife. My wife! Georgia is my wife. I never thought I’d get to say that again.
When I look at her, all groggy and pink with sleep, I just want to hug her. I admit it—I quite like that she’s so small compared to me. She’s the right size for me in every area...
“I need to go to the ladies’ room,” Georgia looks around, one hand in her rumpled hair, still curled from the wedding but beginning to take on the easy waves I love so much.
“Not while we’re coming down, pet. As soon as we touch down and deplane.”
“It’s dark? It was dark when we left, too.”
“Time zones, love.”
“I know, I know. I need coffee.”
“I hope Andy stocked some.”
“Well. Even if he didn’t, I know something that’ll wake me right up,” Georgia murmurs.
I have to think about the price of petrol to keep my kilt from rising like a loaf of Georgie’s best sourdough.
It’s going to be a very long drive—but a very happy honeymoon.
THE RIDE FROM INVERNESS Airport to the cottage takes nearly three hours in the darkness, what with getting bags and finding Andy’s car—a decrepit red sedan that Douglas has to squeeze into.
“Andy was always the shortest of us.” He scowls when we arrive, his knees making an audible click as he escapes the confines of the car. “My back.” He grabs his lower lumbar region. “Even with pushing the seat all the way back... Oh, bloody hell.”
“What is it?” I ask, slowly uncurling from my seat, staring in awe at the sweet, secluded little cottage.
“D’ye not hear me? Clicking and popping like an old man.”
I smirk and come over to his side as he gets the bags from the trunk (sorry, the boot) of the car. “I promised to love and honor—not to agree. You’re very young and studly. And I bet... I just bet I have something that’ll rejuvenate you. After a shower.”
I GET THE FIRE GOING , the kettle on, and I’m about to raid the deep freeze when I hear Georgia open the bedroom door. I had my shower first, at her insistence, even though I wanted to haul her in there with me.
“Honey?”
One word from her sends hot blood rushing to my neglected cock. I’ve been half-stimulated for hours, but the honeyed tone with its seductive little purr sends my shaft pushing through the slit of my tightly knotted dressing gown like a divining rod.
And she is all I need to quench my thirst.
I switch the kettle off and hurry to the bedroom.
The room is filled with candles. They’re essential this high up in the wilds where power cuts accompany almost every storm. Georgia has found Andy’s supply and lit a dozen along the hand-carved chest of drawers. The mirror reflects the flickering flames as well as my bride, a vision in white and skin.
I don’t know why I expected her to wear something long and formal for our wedding night, but I love the option she chose instead—a white satin garter and a lace teddy—with no cups over the breasts and a deep v of nothing between her legs, showing her perfect pussy that’s glistening in the light and a tiny tuft of curls on her mound.
This is when I’m supposed to be poetic. To be adoring.
But something more primal in my brain unlocks, and I rush to her, picking her up and covering her in panting kisses. “My beautiful wife. My love.”
“Mine. My Douglas. I love you, baby.”
Her hands tug my hair as I collapse onto the bed, her under me. I want to see every inch of her, touch every bit. With a greedy grunt, I push her knees to her chest, and her legs apart so I can play with her pussy while my mouth grabs ahold of one breast. I straighten up to watch the erotic sight of her folds under my fingers, her little nub of a clit standing stiffer and thicker as I rub her wetness over it.
Georgia, bless her perfect soul, picks up my energy and half-rises from the bed to yank my dressing gown cord open and seize my cock. I put one knee on the bed so her mouth can capture my tip while my hand continues between her legs. As my cock slides deeper into her mouth, my fingers slip into her hot, grasping channel.
As good as her mouth feels, her pussy’s going to feel even better. I pull back so I can fall to my knees and worship the hot slit I want to fill. “Look at you,” I murmur in awe. My fingers are easily swallowed by her stretchy depths, but her soft walls lock around me like a soaking tourniquet.
“Look at me what?” Georgia moans as two of my fingers plunge and thrust, seeking the spot on her upper wall that makes her moan.
“Look at how hungry you are for me.”
“For my husband’s big, thick cock? Yes. Starving for it.”
Georgia wiggles her hips shamelessly as I sit beside her, stroking her inner thigh with one hand while my other continues to build her pleasure. I can’t help but puff up with pride at how eager she is to make love, at how comfortable and confident she is around me. Something in me relaxes, too.
I sink down beside her, lips to her forehead. “It feels different this time. Something in my chest feels better. Eased.”
“I think it’s because of this.” Georgia taps her beringed hand on my chest. “Everyone knows now. We’re together. Mated. Married. This isn’t just for fun.” Her nose wrinkles as she grins, and my heart melts even further. “It’s your duty. Your husbandly duty to fuck me until I can’t see straight and knot me until you put every drop of your cum inside me.” Georgia’s hands climb my arms, land on my shoulders, and pull me to her.
My eyes practically cross in lust when she talks like that. “Far be it from me to shirk my duty,” I tease, kissing her breast as I withdraw my slippery fingers from her center. I begin kissing my way down, eager to feast on this pussy that now belongs to me.
“I’m becoming very possessive of my wife.” My teeth nip along the edges of lace that connect across her sternum. “These breasts... just for me.”
“God, yes.” Her voice is breathy with pleasure, ending in a squeak when I drag one tusk slowly over a nipple.
“This beautiful little quim—all mine?”
“Only yours. Ever and only.”
Whatever primal parts of my brain register words like “mine” and “mate” are dancing about with greedy glee. The fact that I’m her only lover, that her body has only ever known mine, warms my heart—and I wish I could say the same.
I shouldn’t think about Nicola tonight, but I spare her a brief, grateful thought. If I hadn’t known the desperate, worrisome sensations of being married to a woman who I thought was drifting away, who was content to be alone and slowly seemed to lose interest in me—I wouldn’t appreciate the indescribable joy of finding a mate equally obsessed with me.
“I love every inch of you,” I whisper.
“And I love every inch of you—but I’d love some of those inches inside, please. We have two weeks to play games, but if you don’t consummate this marriage in the next ten seconds I might do something drastic.” Georgia is practically whimpering as my fingers play with her opening without penetration.
Even though I’m curious to see what “drastic” means, I oblige my bride, lining my cock up with her wetness. For a moment, I press in and it seems like I’m too big, extending so far beyond the small crevice I’ve lodged in many times before. There’s a forceful push to pass that first band of resistance, and then her slickness swallows me easily, taking inch after inch as she screams my name in relief.
For a moment, all is carnal bliss and hot kisses, growls, and thrusts as we take each other in a frenzy.
I look down on the blonde woman so much smaller than me as I change positions, kneeling between her thighs as I ravish her, watching her pinkness take me to the knot. Her hands move as she moans, one on her nub, one cupping and squeezing her breast, thumb flicking over the nipple in time with my thrusts.
How did this beautiful goddess come to be mine?
“WHAT GAMES?” DOUGLAS asks.
I can’t think straight with so much of him in me. I can feel the knot hitting my opening on every thrust, but he’s not pushing in. Not yet.
“Any you want.”
“Don’t say that...”
“Why not?” I open my eyes, looking at the handsome Orc I’ve married, his beautiful green skin glinting in candlelight, his hair escaping from the half-bun on the back of his head.
“You don’t know what games I want to play.”
“I know they’re nothing bad. I’ll try anything you want.” I grab his hand where it rests on my hip, loving the way his fingers instantly lock over mine.
It’s funny how he can be so powerful and so shy at the same time. I can tell his mind is in some secret spot where he’s not sure I’ll want to go. “You can tell me. If I don’t like it, I’ll say no—but it’s about having sex with you, so I’m going to say yes.”
And like that, we laugh, and he comes back to lie on top of me. I nudge and wriggle, wanting to lean back and ride him from the top, wanting gravity to aid me in capturing that big green apple of a knot that will make both of us pop like a stretched balloon.
In our new position, there’s just pounding, and grunting. Stretching around his knot is difficult, even after months of making love. His pre-cum and mine ease the path, and his thumb circling steadily on my clit pushes me past the rim of pain and impossibility to the endorphin rush of having his whole knot in me, of being stuffed and stretched so wide that all I can do is shake and breathe out his name.
“I want to come inside of you,” Douglas rasps, voice a harsh grunt.
“You will, baby. No choice.” We’re pinned together now until he’s empty.
“Nnn. That’s... It’s not a game, but I want to see my mate carrying my child. Our child. I mean... And just ... The thought of needing to come inside of you over and over again...”
Oh, God. The orgasm that rips through me starts in the part of my brain that controls fantasies and courses down to my toes. I didn’t know I had a breeding kink, but I do now.
“You mean keeping me full of your cock and your cum as much as possible?” I demand, spasming on him, milking him to an eruption.
He gasps and his head snaps back as his hips arch up, torrents of seed spilling in me.
I keep talking. “I like that game. Even if it doesn’t happen for a while, there’s no reason we can’t ‘practice.’ And maybe... maybe around Christmas, we’ll stop taking our potions and see if we have a little anniversary present next year?”
Douglas’ eyes flare open. “You’d do that for me?”
“For you? Honey, for us ! I want this, too! And in case you didn’t know, or couldn’t tell, the thought of you catching me and breeding me like a bull in heat is practically an instant orgasm.”
“God I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
We laugh together. And love together.
Tears sting in the corners of my eyes. “I never thought I’d have this much wonderful in my life—and my life was already really great,” I whisper.
Douglas reaches up, and with his long arms, he easily cups my face. For a moment, he just wipes the tears from my cheeks, and then his hands settle on my shoulders, rubbing in soft circles. “ Tha gaol agam ort le cridhe ,” he finally whispers.
I know enough Scottish Gaelic to know what he said. “I love you with all my heart, too.”
His hands drift to my knees, and our fingers lace on top of them. I can feel him surging and pulsing inside as aftershocks of orgasm ripple through us both.
For a moment, there’s silence. Then a chuckle and a deep, contented sigh come from my husband. “Will ye marry me again tomorrow? A little ceremony with just us two, out by the beck, in the sun and wind?”
“Or the rain and fog. I don’t care. I’d marry you again, any day and every day, Douglas.”
Another deep, heartfelt sigh. His eyes slowly close as the smile spreads wider across his face.
I squeeze down on him and love the way he groans, hands tightening on mine. “And after our little ceremony, will you chase me through the hills, catch me, throw me over your shoulder, and have your wicked way with me?” I poke his palm with my thumb.
“In the first patch of heather I can find, love.”
It’s my turn to smile and sigh, leaning back as our bodies fuse in pleasure. “Good.”
It’s all good.