Song of the Highlands: The Cambels (The Medieval Highlanders) Read Free Page A

sensation of puffs of
hot breath against her sensitive skin. A hot thrill ran through her
as first one crest and then the other was caressed in this manner,
followed again by gentle fingers as that humid suction traveled
down and o’er her abdomen and settled with blindingly pleasurable
accuracy o’er the apex of her sex.
    Morgana’s back arched and every muscle in
her frame went rigid with sheer delight. Her mouth opened wide
under the gag and she felt a silent scream in her throat. His
tongue began a magic dance and she started once again to quake and
tremble—this time, with pleasure. He rolled her nipples between his
thumb and forefinger and pinched them, causing a slight pain. She
saw pinpricks of light behind her lids just before her womb
convulsed, and then she splintered apart.
    As she was floating back down to earth and
hearing her breathing, still harsh, but slowing to a bit more of a
normal meter, he shocked her by starting the process all o’er
again. This time, when she felt that ultimate bliss, she began to
cry. The pleasure was more acute this time, almost painful in its
scope. She prayed he would stop now, for she knew she wouldn’t be
able to take another from him so soon.
    Somehow, he must have known, because she
felt him rise up between her thighs. Felt the wiry hair from his
own muscular, hard thighs tickling and softly abrading the tender
skin on the insides of her legs. She felt something warm, something
long and thick, smooth, but with a blunt, rounded tip caressing the
outer lips of her sex. Was this his manly yard? She’d ne’er seen
one, but she’d heard the ladies speak of them. It certainly matched
their descriptions.
    She felt the blunt tip pressing into the
center of her. She barely had time to get accustomed to the odd
feeling before she was ripped asunder by his rough, rapid entry.
She jerked and tried to pull herself back, but he had hold of her
hips and rammed into her again. This cannot be the right
way. Scalding tears burned her cheeks. Surely, I will die
from this.
    * * *
    “God, Vika, you’ve been practicing,” Robert
growled. “Loose your grip on me, else I’ll not last long enough to
pleasure you.” He knew he wasn’t supposed to speak—this was one of
the requisites she’d given him for this lovers’ game—but he
couldn’t keep silent. Christ, she was squeezing him in a hot, moist
vise along every inch of his cock. And it felt good. Too good.
    But she didn’t comply. Instead, she
tightened around him even more. He jerked and shuddered, grinding
into her e’er harder as he lost the battle and, with a vociferous
shout, erupted inside of her. Just as he began to slow, as the last
eddies of visceral satisfaction were rippling up from his tarse,
into his loins, and out into his being, she lifted her hips and
started moving against him. When he felt the strong muscles of her
canal begin to milk him, he rose up on that crest again with a
ragged moan and this time he thought he’d die from the eviscerating
pleasure it gave him.
    When ‘twas over, when the only sound in the
small chamber of the stone cot was the hiss of their breath as they
struggled to fill their lungs, Robert slowly slid out of his lover
and walked over to the wall sconce. Swiving Vika had ne’er been
that bone-numbingly satiating before. Hell, his ears still rung
from the explosive climaxes she’d given him. Which bode very well
for their marriage, a thing he was determined to have with her.
    And this night, and the nights following,
with them having no means of preventing conception of a babe, would
seal the bargain. For, he’d spend inside her how e’er many times it
took to get her with child and force her to give him her hand. And
the coin that came with it.
    He’d not used the sheath on his cock, as
she’d demanded he use in her note, but she’d told him before that
she could ne’er tell when he used the thing in any case, and this
game proved to be a perfect opportunity to begin as he