Chapter 11 #2
He stroked her back and her bottom as if he were trying to soothe her.
It had the opposite effect, making Lucy’s hands clench on his shoulders, and the peaks of her breasts bead against his muscles.
She wanted to forget about everything but being with Tair, and taking him inside her where she had been so empty for too long.
Lucy opened her eyes. “I still don’t know if I can be your lover, Tair.”
“Use me, then.” He pulled her hips against his. “All I desire now, ’tis your softness clenched around me. For now or forever.”
She gripped his shoulders, lifting up as he positioned her, and then sank down on his hard, swollen cock.
He seemed even bigger now than he had their first time, but she was so excited that she took every inch of him as he gave her one long, deep stroke.
Holding him inside her pussy, she squeezed around his heavy shaft, making him groan.
The heated water churned around them as he carried her to a nearby, well-worn rock shelf, placing her there as he tugged her thighs higher. Lucy found a soft bed of moss behind her and lay back, raising her knees so he could come even deeper into her .
“Aye, ’tis what I want—to come so far inside that you cannae remember the emptiness before I took you.” When she shuddered and arched her back he laughed, a low, sexy sound. “Beware your choice, Lucy Brooke, for if you become mine I shall fack you until my seed paints your very flesh.”
Something wild inside her made her push him back as he withdrew from her, and she turned and crawled out of the water.
When he caught her by the ankle and dragged her back she drew him up on the shelf, and then went down on her knees and took him into her mouth.
Looking up at him as she sucked his cock, she saw the dark delight and rough lust warring in his eyes.
“Paint me,” Lucy said after releasing him and stroking his shaft with her hand. “I want to wear you all over me.”
Her urging made his cock swell beneath her fingers, and he let out a rasping sound as he came. Lucy reveled in her power to do this to him as she kept caressing him and letting his seed fall in long, silky ribbons over her throat and breasts.
Almost the moment he finished Tair seized her and tossed her back on the embankment, coming down on top of her legs as he put his mouth to her pussy.
The hot press of his velvety tongue against her clit made Lucy clamp her hand over her mouth just in time to muffle a scream, and then she was writhing with the impossible billowing pleasure inside her as he sucked her nub and penetrated her with his fingers.
On and on it went, even after she shattered from a huge climax, and then he shifted up over her and started fucking her again.
The delicious, unstoppable torment of his cock shafting her made her buck and hit him, but Tair caught her wrists and pinned them to the grass as he went on pumping into her.
“Tell me you cannae love me, and I shall accept,” he said, panting the words.
“Only ken that you need me, mo bhana-bhuidseach òir . I’m the man you’ve sought, aye?
And never found until that facking rag brought you to me.
I’m your every wish. You shallnae shed your garments or bathe or even look at me without remembering my mouth, my hands, my cock taking you. ’Twill become your torment.”
Lucy’s vision grew blurred as he hammered into her, and tears of sweet bliss spilled down her cheeks as Tair drove into her one last time and pumped his cream deep into her core.
The climax with which she welcomed him seemed to go on for hours, their bodies shaking badly as he collapsed and rolled onto his side with her.
She pressed herself to him, so full of emotion she couldn’t speak .
The sky cleared, and a beautiful rainbow arched over the meadow.
It was madness, doing this—and no matter what she decided, she would never regret it for the rest of her life.
C ath waited until the laird and his woman dressed before he retreated from the edge of the meadow.
It had not been his intention to watch Tair swive Lucy, and when they began he’d turned his back on the sight.
He’d stood guard, however, because the laird was too enraptured by his blonde wench to pay attention to their surroundings.
I’m your every wish.
Once they lay embraced after their second coupling, Cath soundlessly walked to where the laird had left his horse tethered on the trail.
Knowing Tair would find it and use the beast to ride back to the loch, he considered spending the night in the village with a widow who had always welcomed him.
He appreciated her generous nature, but he also knew she needed to remarry or risk becoming a target for men who saw every female alone as theirs for the taking .
The mortal realm might greatly improve, Cath thought, if he could end such cowardly bastarts.
He walked back to the market, halting for a moment outside the dingy tavern before continuing on.
Out of respect for the lady he came in through her back door, and found the cozy little home empty.
As was his habit he put on the kettle and prepared a simple pottage from the vegetables he’d brought with him.
While slicing a loaf of Ronan’s oat bread to go with the stew Cath heard the door open, and then smiled at his tall, buxom lover.
“What do you here, my lord?” Eilish asked as she removed her shawl and hung it by the fire, grimacing as she did. “You neednae cook for me. I ken what you favor.”
“I wish pamper you, my lady.” He bowed to her, expecting the jest to make her smile. She only gave him a troubled look. “What’s amiss?”
“You saw the runaway horse at market?” When he nodded Eilish’s lips thinned. “After you lot left, Bram Tanner brought the beast to the stables, so that auld Joss might check for sickness. Joss found a fresh stab wound in the nag’s flank.”
He went still. “Who went near Bram’s cart?”
“Most of the village and the nearby crofts turn out for market,” the widow said as she went into the kitchen. “I saw the new magistrate and his wife in their fine carriage. His guards came to help themselves to our wares, mayhap one of them wished to make mischief.”
Cath’s position as war master required him to safeguard Gealladh, their vassals and the clan, but no MacRune could be more important than Tair.
He recalled seeing Fifer MacAlen approach Tair and then save Lucy from being trampled.
Had he ordered his men to stab the horse in order to play the hero? “What of the MacAlen?”
“I didnae see the laird.” She returned with a jug of cider, which she placed on the table before grimacing again. “I cannae invite you stay with me henceforth, my lord. I’m expecting my swain tonight, and we shall soon wed.”
“Of course.” Cath had greatly enjoyed the time he’d spent with Eilish, so he reached for his purse.
“Please dinnae offer me coin,” the widow said quickly. “I’m no’ a hoor.”
“I wish to give you a wedding gift.” When she shook her head he gave her a rueful look. “What more may I do for you, then, my friend?”
She turned away. “Leave me and never return.”
Had she not presented her back to him Cath might not have seen the marks on the nape of her neck.
He walked up to her and bent his head to sniff the injuries, which she had treated with a salve that smelled of honey and yarrow.
The medicine had always been used to stop bleeding and prevent wounds of a particular kind from festering.
“I shall depart and leave you in peace,” Cath told her, “when you tell me what bastart flogged you.”
She turned around to face him. “The gossips told my swain that you and I had shared pleasures more than once. He demanded to ken if ’twas true. When I confessed, he punished me for my hoorish ways.”
Every word out of her lips was a lie, Cath thought, but who was she trying to protect? “Who did this to you, my lady? Did he force himself on you?”
“No’ yet.” Fear flickered over her face. “You can do naught to him, unless you wish me drowned for consorting with a monster like you.” With tears sparkling in her eyes she pointed at the back door of the cottage. “Now go, please.”
Cath left, taking care to keep to the shadows as he found a perch in a nearby ash tree while he waited to see who would come to Eilish’s cottage.
She blew out the candles, which perplexed him until he saw a burly figure come staggering up to pound on the door.
Cath dropped down, picked up a rock and shifted his position to watch the hulking man.
He recognized him as Walter, one of the local brewsters who produced much of the ale for the village.
He’d long had an unpleasant reputation for beating his own wife and children when drunk.
Why had Eilish claimed him to be her swain?
“I ken you’re in there, filthy hoor,” Walter called out, and then pressed his face against a crack in the door. “Let me in and mayhap I shall spare you all but a good plowing tonight.”
Cath strode up behind him, using the rock to clout him on the back of the head. The brewster fell forward into the door with a heavy thump and then slid down to crumple into a heap. He had just hoisted Walter on his back when the door opened and a horrified Eilish stared out at him.
“What have you done?” she whispered behind the hand over her mouth.
“Och, sweetheart. Didnae you ken? You cannae wed a married man.” He winked and carried Walter off.
Cath had time to think as he made his way into the forest. If he killed the brewster, which would not overly task him, he would have to confess the murder to the laird.
Since they had sworn to protect mortals rather than end them it would doubtless cost him his position and indeed his place among the clan.
He would return to aimlessly wandering the mortal realm until he met someone or something able to end him.
It would likely take many centuries, unless he did the thing himself.
Deep in the forest Cath propped Walter against a tree, and used some thick vines to bind his body and limbs to the trunk.
The man’s eyes blinked a few times as he roused, but by the time he regained his senses he could not move his arms or legs.
As Cath released a light sphere, which hovered just above the brewster’s head, Walter sputtered a vile curse.
“Turn me loose, you back stabber, or I shall rip your head from your shoulders,” he demanded, straining at the vines.
Cath backed up and shed his cloak and weapons, bundling them and covering them with a mound of dead leaves before returning to stand before the bully.
“Do you reckon ’tis your right to whip a woman for refusing you?” he asked as he unlaced his tunic.
“I reckon you’re no’ the magistrate, you haughty sprag,” Walter said, spitting the words. He jerked again at the vines as Cath pulled off his tunic, and then went still. “What the fack did you ink on your hide, MacRune?”
Cath glanced down at the skinwork that covered him from collarbones to waist, which had taken on a copper-violet glow. “I didnae. A slayer of mortals did.” He stepped forward to tear off one of Walter’s sleeves, which he stuffed in his gaping mouth. “Come now and make acquaintance with his gift.”
For a time all the trees around them shook madly, raining leaves and twigs down on the two men.
Walter’s eyes bulged wide in his dead-white face, and he screamed behind the rough fabric stuffed in his mouth for a long time.
When Cath pulled his tunic back on, the brewster sagged so much only the vines held him upright.
“If you touch or speak to Eilish again, or harm her, your lady wife or any female ever again,” he told the silently weeping man as he cut him loose, “I shall come and let my pretties end you. None shall ken what happened to you. Do you understand why? Nod if you can.”
Walter nodded slowly, and then tensed as if he meant to run away. He froze when Cath touched his shoulder. “Please, my lord, I shallnae go near the lady, nor harm her or the others. Please, let me live.”
The fear in his voice made it sound as if he were about to scream, but the stink coming from his trews made it clear he meant every word.
Cat still leaned in. “I shall watch you from this night on. You may never ken when I’m near. Now, get out of my sight.”
Walter ran blindly down the trail toward the village, his speed remarkable for his size.
By the time the brewster arrived home Cath imagined he would have to explain to his wife why he’d pissed and shat himself.
He was tempted to go and watch that through a window, but he’d allowed the dark side of his nature too much freedom already.
No, it seemed best to walk back to the loch and swim to Gealladh, where he belonged.
That would cool down his temper and stop the needling sensations crawling over his skin.
At least, for now.