Bedding the Enemy [Highland Menage 9] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 6
“’Tisn’t true, wife,” replied Somerled with a huff. “As ye see, my body’s warm.”
“She meant yer heart is cold, brother,” replied Niall. His raised eyebrow and sharp tone meant it was a rebuke.
Most men’s hearts were cold in her experience. If, that is, they had one. Adders, toads, and slugs were the same.
“What did you do to Lady Isabel for her to say such things about you?”
Somerled shifted under her. He rested his hand on the arm of the chair, tapping his middle finger and staring at the table. Was the great laird embarrassed or ashamed about something he’d done?
“I were a wee bit unkind to the lass. She wasna pleased with me.”
“What did you do?”
Still tapping and looking down, he cleared his throat. “I put her to work as if she were one of the lads. I thought she’d say nay and then Tearlach would take her back to Calltuin, where the lads could do far better for themselves. But Isabel is so sweet she wouldna speak to them over it. While I didna wish to, I had to demand even more of her. The woman was too stubborn to give up!”
He glared as if it were Meg’s fault, as if her being a woman put them together against him. “Stubborn, was she?” Somerled nodded, eyebrows touching. “Well, husband, your bride is also stubborn. But she is nay sweet. Dinna try the like with me!”
His eyes widened. Before he could react she grabbed his ears and yanked, pulling his face forward. She kissed him. He growled and wrapped his arms to hold her there, not that she wished to escape. Not with the wild pounding of blood in her veins and equally wild throbbing in her pussy.
“Husband?” she said, panting after he’d released her from their kiss.
“Aye?”
“Methinks ’tis time ye show me this new bed.” She winked. “We’d best test it, to see if it works.”
He stood up, shoving the chair back with its his legs. The sound filled the sudden silence. He held her, strong and secure.
“My wife says ’tis time to see if our bed works,” he announced.
She groaned and banged her red face against his chest.
“Laird, I ken ’tis yer first time, so I offer a hint,” said Dougal, fighting to keep a straight face. “’Tisn’t the bed that has to work, ’tis yer—”
Finn slapped his hand over Dougal’s mouth. “Go right ahead, laird. We’ll stay here and celebrate. Unless ye need a witness?”
The pair of them grinned eagerly at her.
“I shared a womb and all my life with my twin,” said Niall, his voice hard in warning. “I shall ensure the deed is done.” He bowed to her. “If my lady will allow it?”
Oh, Lord. There’d been none of this with her first marriage. And a good thing, too, as it took Edgar a few weeks to get hard enough to enter her. Even then, he’d bent. It had made him furious. But though her face and the rest of her body was hot, only a small part of it was embarrassment. The rest was the heat of wanting.
The king demanded proof, and it would be either Niall or Herald Cam, which would be too much to bear. Somerled and Niall were identical in face and body shape, at least in candlelight. She was relaxed, full of wine, and who knew when she would feel this way again. It would be best to get it over with tonight. Both the bedding and the sharing. Maybe the rumors about the MacDougals were right and she would wake up smiling and eager for more.
“I dinna object to you, Niall,” she murmured.
A roar of approval erupted around her. Somerled grasped her tight and strode away from the table. There was a door in the corner. Niall moved what blocked it. She got a quick view of a padded chair, one far too small for any of the men, before Niall opened the door. Somerled went through, still carrying her. Niall shut the door behind them, blocking out the cheers. An arrow slit in the outside wall showed but a hint of moonlight in the dim corridor, but her husband was sure-footed. He was also in a hurry, bouncing her.
“The bed will still be there and your cock hard though my belly may not unless you slow down.”
Somerled jerked to a halt, though it was due to Niall’s hand on the back of his shirt. “What?”
“I ken ye are eager for yer first time with a woman,” said Niall, “but if ye jumble Meg’s belly she willna wish to lie with ye.”
His eyes widened. “Ye’ll deny yer husband on yer weddin’ night?”
“Nay,” she replied, “but there’s a good chance ye’ll get what’s in my belly spewed over you as you rut on me.”
His head drew back, eyes narrowing. “MacDougals dinna rut. They make the lass scream her joy afore they take their pleasure in her.”
“Gillis says they do rut now and then, as in hard and fast,” said Niall. His breath and voice caressed her neck from behind. “But only when the lady wishes it.”
“Open the door for us,” ordered Somerled. “I hope Ewan kenned the lass would need this chamber and got the fire goin’.”
“Ewan met us at the stables,” said Meg. “He had a hot bath waiting for me.”
“Did ye like the tub Isabel sent ye? ’Tis another thing Isabel didna like about Duncladach. I’d never kenned such a thing as a hot bath. She wasna pleased.”
“She were furious with ye,” corrected Niall.
“I was so cold and wet from riding, and my muscles had cramped. But that bath was wondrous.”
Somerled started forward again, more slowly but not wasting time. His deep, knowing chuckle made her pussy quiver. “Lass, ye havena seen wondrous ’til ye’ve been bedded thoroughly by a MacDougal.”
“Or two,” added Niall quietly as he opened the door.
Or two, she repeated silently.
Light and warmth flowed over her as Somerled carried her into a tower chamber. A giant bed, the headboard set against the outer curve of stone, barely allowed room to squeeze past either side. A thick mattress and covers promised a wonderful sleep, when they finally let her.
He stopped near the door in an open area with square walls. A table held a set of lit candlesticks, a jug of ale, mugs, some cheese, and a small bowl. The liquid in it reflected the light. There was even a tall cup with some daisies. Also known as marguerites, they were her flower. Yes, Ewan would be a good friend.
“Aw, look at that, Ewan picked ye some daisies,” said Somerled.
“I shall have to thank him. What would he like?”
“A pie,” said Niall abruptly. “He canna stand to be touched, though he’d rather have a kiss from a lass.”
He shut the door on the outside world. There was no sound but the fire and two deep chests breathing as if they’d run a mile. She struggled so Somerled set her down. He stared at her, nostrils flaring like an eager bull. She peered around him to Niall. He looked the same, though his expression held pain.
“Will you give me a wee kiss to welcome me, Niall?”
The vein in his throat throbbed. He swallowed hard, and then nodded.
“Good, as I hope to be bedded thoroughly by both of you before the morn.”
Chapter Eight
“I be the husband, so ye’ll wait yer turn, brother.” Somerled held his wee Meggie to him. He hadn’t growled at his twin before, nor had he planned to this time.
Niall held up his hands in surrender. “I am here to ensure the two of ye consummate your marriage. After that, ’tis up to the lady whether I sleep in the hall or beside her.”
He nodded, feeling Niall’s eagerness tempered with a wary respect. He would easily share Meg if she wished, but he would be the first to taste her, make her cry out in pleasure, and to fill her with his seed. That would make Meg their Lady MacDougal.
“Do ye like our chamber? One day we wish to buy sommat for the walls and floor, but what ye see is all we have now.”
“’Tisn’t the chamber I wish to see.” Meg drew a circle around his hard nipple, pushing against his shirt. “I ken that ye have hair on your chest, husband. Is it soft?”
Her eyes did things to him. Made him want things he’d sworn he’d never care about.
“Mayhaps I’d best see for myself.” She smiled, tilting her head, daring him.
“I like the way ye think, lass. But ’tis yer chest I wish to check for hair.”
“Aye, husband,” she demurely replied, though the way her eyes sparkled was anything but. She pulled the tie on the front lacing of her gown. It didn’t fall, unfortunately. But she raised her arms over her head for him to lift it off. His youngest brothers had done the same as he helped them remove their shirts. None of them had the breasts and hips and hair, or the sassy dare on her face, as his wife.
His wife! A bubble of joy came from deep inside him.
He took the hem of her gown and lifted. She had narrow ankles and calves. His heart caught in his throat when he got to her equally slender knees. He kept lifting, hardly daring to breathe. Her thighs swelled out. He paused, lifting his eyes to hers. Was she laughing at him?
“My arms are getting tired, husband.”
“I dinna wish to hurry my first view of ye. I havena seen a woman’s limbs afore,” he admitted. “Yet I ken ye are the most beautiful.”
“Because I am yours?”
“Nay, because ye are yerself. A few hours ago I kenned naught about ye. Now ye are here, and I canna think of bein’ without ye.”
“You flatter me,” she said.
“Lass, I be the last man to flatter. ’Tis the simple truth. Ye are wee, yet perfect.”
She bit her lip, then looked to Niall, leaning against the door with his arms crossed. “I wish the truth. Did Somerled practice these words?”
Niall slowly shook his head. “Nay, my lady. Mayhaps ’tis the wine as well as yer presence. For he’s had neither afore.”
“Dinna expect it again, wife,” he warned. “I say the truth when there is none but us to hear. I feel it, so I speak it.” He shrugged. “Who kens when I may feel it again?” He lifted her hem another inch. “I do ken I wish to feel more than yer gown.”
Inpatient to see all of her, he tugged it over her head. Her hair spilled free, falling around her like golden rain. She dropped her arms as he tossed her gown aside. Then he stared at the woman who was now his. Theirs.
Her hair covered most of her from shoulders to waist. Below that waist hips flared. Between them a golden nest hid her sweet pussy. Her magnificent breasts, topped with erect nipples, could not be hidden. Like berries they were. He licked his lips, eager to taste them. Niall choked, then coughed behind him.
“Aye,” he whispered, “ye are most beautiful.” He inhaled. “Ye smell as sweet as a rose.”
“Lady Isabel must have sent the soap as well as the tub. I shall be careful with it, and keep it for special times.”
“Aw, lass, ye are a wish come true.”
He lifted her, arms beneath her shoulders and thighs, to bring her nipple to his mouth. She squawked until he sucked on her. Then she grabbed his head and ground her breast into his face. He grinned around her nipple. He wanted more. Much more. He turned, setting her on her feet with her back to the door.
“Ye are no fairy, Meg. Ye are a nymph. A beautiful, sexy nymph. And my wife.”
She boldly stared him in the eye. “I am nay fully your wife yet, Laird Somerled MacDougal. And unless you take off your plaid…”
He reached for his belt. Niall stepped forward and caught her from behind. She squeaked but didn’t complain. Niall took the few steps required and tossed her on the bed. Her shriek in the air turned into a laugh when she sank.
“’Tis feather!” she called out delightedly. “So soft.”
His cock had never been so hard. He was laird and must be in control. From the moment he rose to his feet and put on his plaid in the morn until he rolled himself up in it at night, he worked. Before he fell asleep he planned the next day, and the future. That left no energy, desire, or need for a hard cock.
Meg sat up. She stared at him, jaw open. She wiped her hair back from her face with both hands. “Now that,” she said with what he hoped was pleasure, “is a cock!” Her tongue protruded from her lips for a moment before she licked them.
His cock jumped.
“I dinna ken if the lady told ye, laird, but the herald said Meg’s first husband was an old man.” Niall bowed to her, hand over his heart. “We are but four and thirty, and care for ye, as a person and as our wife. Dinna expect Duncladach to be anything like what ye had afore.”
“Thank you,” she said. Her chin quivered. It kicked Somerled’s feet into moving.
“None ’o that,” he said. “Time to make ye forget all but my tongue on yer pussy.”
Her eyes widened. “Your tongue?”
He set his hands on her tiny ankles. They were so small he had to wrap his fingers under his thumb. He gently tugged until her arse was at the edge of the mattress. He closed his eyes, opened her thighs, and inhaled. He groaned. The rose soap made her smell nice, but this was all Meg. He couldn’t describe her scent other than to say she was perfect.
“What are you doing?” she squawked.
He looked her in the eyes. “I am yer husband. I shall do with ye whatever I wish,” he warned. She bit her lip though her scent strengthened. “Right now I am breathing in my woman. Yer scent is now part of me.”
He looked down. So that was what a woman looked like. Two sets of lips all swollen, pink, and wet. Wet was good. Angus had explained it all to him, had even drawn all the parts in the wet sand. The tide took the picture away but not the memory.
There was her hood under which was her clit. He had to be very careful with that part as it was even more sensitive than the exposed tip of his cock. The whole area was covered in a cloud of fine golden curls. His tongue, fingers, and cock would slide between those lips. He drew his finger down, gently pressing to see what happened. It slid inside her heat. She inhaled a gasp. He froze.
“Did I hurt ye?” he whispered, hoping he hadn’t already frightened her. He was so big he could surely break her in two if he moved too quickly.
“Nay.” Her voice broke. She cleared her throat. “Nay, I like it.”
He slumped in relief, but only for a moment. He experimented, pressing in as far as he could go, which brought his knuckles right to her lips. He turned his wrist, curling the finger forward. Another gasp, and she somehow grabbed his finger from inside!
Angus said gasps were good if they weren’t followed by a swat or a snarl. He brought his finger out. It shone in the candlelight. He tasted it. Sweeter than heaven, she was. A drop followed from her pussy down toward the sheet. Toward that tight puckered brown rosette that one day would hold his cock. If he did things right and she wished to take him there.
He needed to sink into her, to make her his woman, and his wife. But first he had to make her scream with pleasure. Angus had made that very, very clear.
She tasted even better on his tongue. The scent of her rising around his face, the slippery texture, the golden hairs that tickled his nose. He moaned, taking it all in. A sharp pain on his head made him look up, though he left his tongue where it was. She’d yanked on him, gripping his hair with both hands.
“Somerled?”
“Hush. I am enjoying my wife. Ye are beautiful from this end as well the other.”
He was not going to have his twin stand in pain on the far side of the room. “Is Meg not beautiful, Niall? Mayhaps ye would kiss our wife’s upper lips while I kiss these.”
“A kiss, my lady?” Niall choked the words out.
“Aye,” she whispered. Somerled flicked his tongue over her clit. “Ay-yigh!”
Her thighs slammed against his ears as a gush of nectar rewarded him. The bed shook. He looked up. Niall lay on his elbows, kissing Meg. One hand held her breast, her nipple sticking out between his fingers. She grasped his head, holding him from escaping. Not that either of them would ever wish to escape this woman.
Somerled slid a pair of fingers into her pussy, curving them up toward her belly, finding that rough spot Angus said a
woman liked. She slammed her thighs hard against his ears. Taking that as a good thing, he began tracing letters on her clit. A, B, C…
* * * *
Meg was lost in sensation. Niall’s teasing kisses would be enough to make her breathless without Somerled’s tongue doing wicked things between her legs. Nothing existed but their touch. If she could have this in her life then she didn’t much mind the rest. No wonder the MacDougals had a reputation. What they did with her was divine.
Something coiled within her. Somerled held her bottom in his hands, lifting her to his mouth. Her pussy quivered. She set her heels and lifted herself to him. He pulled back. She tried to look but Niall’s head was in the way. He pulled back as well, his intense blue eyes blazing.
“There is nothing wrong with what a man and woman, or a woman and two men, does as long as they all enjoy it,” said Niall.
“This feels good,” she replied, forcing the words through her fogged brain.
“What of this?” Somerled lifted her bottom with one hand. The other slid between her cheeks.
“That’s—!”
“Aye, that’s my finger at yer arse. What do ye think of it?”
“I like it. It feels…” He twisted his finger. “Oh! It feels good!”
“Aye, Niall, the lass is right for us.”
Somerled applied his mouth to her pussy again. She tried to keep track of all the sensation, but it was impossible. Niall’s warm lips and murmurs telling her how wonderful she was, how they’d waited all their lives for her. His hand found her breast.
“It’s too much,” she cried. “I will fall apart!”
“Aye, ye will. So let go,” said Niall.
“Let go? Of what?”
“All,” said Niall. He brought his mouth to her nipple. He circled it, making her gasp. Somerled’s tongue flicked at her clit. His finger twisted, filling her. Stretching her. It was too much. She needed…
The tension broke. She erupted, crying out, feeling nothing but pleasure.
“Now ye will be mine!”
She barely understood the words before Somerled pressed into her. He stretched her, and more, and then even more! The wondrous feeling began again as he slid back and forth, all slippery and full. He rubbed against something that made her cry out. He roared, pounding, and then collapsed, leaving her craving release.