“Your terms?” he said abruptly.
Lady Janet smiled, as aided by the light of the roaring campfire, her nimble fingers cleaned his shoulder with an herbal concoction that stung his skin. Then she smoothed a thick, cooling peppermint-scented poultice across it and lastly covered it in a bandage that she looped under his arm and fastened with a knot. “After our interrupted discussion at Stirling, I believe you understand my preference to lead and are content with such an arrangement. But I have other rules. I expect loyalty from my lovers for the duration of the affair; I do not appreciate those who stray. I expect a man to use his tongue and his fingers as well as his cock. And I expect him to advise me if at any time he does not like something. Pleasure is pleasure for all, not one. Do you accept?”
“Yes.”
“Your terms?” she asked.
Love me, as I love you.
“Time,” Lachlan said hoarsely. “I mean, er…time outside bed. Together.”
Lady Janet nodded, her eyes growing heavy lidded. “Very well. Shall we begin?”
“Wait. Should I spill…inside or outside?”
She frowned. “It matters not. Surely you know that I am barren.”
“What do you wish?”
Lady Janet’s frown cleared, and it was like the sun appearing from behind a cloud as she smiled approvingly. “An excellent question. I rather like inside. Nothing to distract from that glorious end. Now, Beast, are you ready to be ridden? For I know I am ready to ride.”
His cock surged, a fervent yes to the suggestion. But damn it, he needed her taste in his mouth. “You said…tongue and fingers.”
“So I did,” she purred, discarding her robe and spreading it across the log before sitting upon it and parting her thighs. “Kneel.”
Disobediently, Lachlan turned and brushed his mouth against hers, eager to know the softness of her lips first. She made a sound of surprise, but moments later those nimble fingers cupped his face, angling his head, and her tongue darted against his lips, demanding entry. He surrendered at once, delighting in the firm and hungry expertise of her kiss until she drew away.
“My nipples,” she said huskily. “Suck them. Hard.”
Lachlan nodded, his heart thumping with excitement as he moved to kneel between her legs, watching closely as Lady Janet tugged down the bodice of her shift. Her breasts were small, dusted with freckles, and tipped with pale-brown nipples. When she cupped one breast and offered it to him, he fell on it like a starving man, taking the entire perfect little mound into his mouth. Sucking. Biting. Licking. Rasping her with his short beard.
“Forgive me—”
“I like it,” she gasped. “The other. Suck the other. Now.”
He’d have happily attended to her nipples for hours, but soon her hands pressed on his shoulders, an unspoken instruction for him to move lower. Disappointment flashed through him at the gentleness of the action, but of course a lady born couldn’t know the true depth of his most secret and depraved need—to be forced, to be taken rough and hard by the woman he loved. Yet he couldn’t stay disappointed for long, not when such a reward awaited him.
The spicy scent of Lady Janet’s cunt teased his nose, her bush flaming red like her hair, and Lachlan reverently parted the crisp curls to reveal the slick pink folds and her swollen pearl. Unable to resist, he dragged his tongue from her entrance up to her pearl. Her flavor exploded in his mouth, addicting him forever, and with a fierce growl, he settled in to feast.
Lady Janet moaned. “Yes, just like that. A bit higher. Mmmm. Lick my pearl, a little to the side…oh heavens, yes. There. Now fuck me with your tongue. Deep. Yes, Lachlan. Ohhhhh…”
Joy surged through him when her hips jerked, her mound grinding against his face as her inner walls pulsed around his tongue and sweet honey trickled down his throat. Greedy for more, to hear his name again as a keening release, Lachlan lapped at her folds. Then he licked his way up to her pearl, circling it with just the tip of his tongue before fastening his lips around the swollen bud and sucking it until she bucked against him with a wild cry.
About to start again, Lachlan was halted by a sharp tug on his hair so good he almost spilled his seed. He glanced up. “Lady?” he asked, knowing he’d brought her pleasure and yet equally concerned he’d failed her in some way.
“I have need of your cock in my cunt,” she said harshly, her eyes glittering in the firelight, her cheeks flushed with passion. “Now.”
A little unsteadily, Lachlan rose to his feet and tugged down his hose before sitting on the log atop Lady Janet’s robe. His cock bobbed against his stomach, harder than stone, and when she wrapped her fingers around him and squeezed, he gasped in agonized pleasure as his seed dampened her fingers.
Praying he wouldn’t disgrace himself like the greenest of lads, he began mumbling in Gaelic.
“It won’t help, you know,” said Lady Janet with a wicked grin as she tormented his balls and the dripping head of his cock with feather-light strokes. “The counting.”
“You know Gaelic?”
“Oh yes. My father thought it too vulgar for a lady, which is precisely why I took it upon myself to find a tutor. I make my own rules, like taking a Beast for my pet.”
The words were teasing, but Lachlan shuddered in fierce yearning. To belong to Lady Janet in every way, to serve and cherish and protect her the rest of their days…
Thankfully such whimsy halted when she straddled him, and slowly, so slowly,
