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He wasn’t a fool. He’d been sure that spanking Lizzie would be integral to her taking her wedding vows. It was a shame she’d lose her virginity with a red and swollen arse, but there was no help for it. She’d been on her own too long, unfettered by convention, or even a steadying influence. He and Caelan were going to have their hands full in more ways than one. Lizzie had a set of tits that would do nicely in that regard; her arse, too, for that matter.
She was built for pleasure. Their Lizzie was tall with an hourglass figure, long, shapely legs that could wrap around a man when he was giving her a good fucking, and an arse made for fucking, spanking, or both. He’d been having fantasies about the future Mrs. MacLean since the first moment he laid eyes on her. He wanted to kiss those lips, drawing the lower one into his mouth to nibble and suck. He also very much wanted to see them surrounding his cock, or Caelan’s, as one of them fucked her mouth. Caelan would be the one to teach her to suck cock. Gavan was looking forward to that; Caelan was an excellent instructor.
The two men had shared more than one woman over the years. With the exception of Bethany, all had flourished under their care. Bethany had been the young bride of their nearly decrepit commanding officer. They were caught red-handed with their pants down, quite literally. Even though she had arranged for them to be caught and had enjoyed the attentions of many others, she’d cried foul. They’d just been the two who were caught.
Bethany had been a selfish little social climber. She had thought she would use Gavan to become the wife of a laird. She had extricated herself from the scandal when she realized Gavan was the second son and wouldn’t inherit. It had taken all of Gavan’s titled father’s considerable influence to keep the Army from charging them both with buggery before summarily dismissing them.
Instead, Bethany had stood by, allowing them to be dishonorably discharged. Gavan’s father never spoke to him again. When Gavan had tried to return to the family estate to attend his father’s funeral, his older brother, then Laird of the Clan MacLean, had barred him from attending.
“What are you going to do, asshole?” she said. “Have me arrested, tried, convicted, and sentenced to die a second time?”
It had been hard to keep his distance during her trial. Time and again, when the lost little girl behind the flinty façade of the outlaw queen had peeked out, it had been hard not to lose another piece of his heart to her, hard not to want to save her, and hard just being constantly hard. His cock wanted what it wanted, and what it wanted was to sink into her wet heat and watch Caelan’s do the same. If he closed his eyes, he could practically hear her moaning with desire.
“Nay, lass, yer not going to swing.” He let his words hang in the air.
She said nothing but looked at him. Her emotions played across her face, from hope to fear to anger to resignation and back again.
“Why not? Who the hell are you?” she asked, getting off the bed in an aggressive manner.
He chuckled. “I suppose some might call me yer fiancé.”
“My what?”
“Ye heard me. The judge has agreed that, in exchange for my marrying ye and taking ye away from here, he will spare yer life.”
“I don’t give a damn what you and that fat bastard have planned. I’m not marrying you, or anybody else.”
Gavan unlocked and entered
her cell. Like any other caged and cornered animal, she backed away as he stepped forward, softly saying, “What I have planned, Lizzie, is take yer maidenhead and ride ye long and hard, and then watch my partner do the same. Didna worry, ye’ll come hard. We’ll always see to yer pleasure too. Ye’ll love it, me and Cae will make sure of that.”
He had her trapped, pressed into the back wall as he brought his hand up to cup her bottom for the first time. God, she felt even better than she looked. He couldn’t wait to have her naked and writhing in his arms. Her nostrils flared, and he watched as the real woman peeked out from behind the mask; shocked, to be sure, but intrigued and aroused, as well.
“In time, I plan to have my cock planted deep in yer cunny while Caelan, that’s my partner, takes yer arse.”
Her eyes widened, and her breathing became shallow and unsteady as he brushed his hand across her nipples, flicking and then pinching them through the fabric of her shirt. She moaned and swayed against him. No doubt about it, their Lizzie was a woman of fire and passion.
They would give Lizzie a positive outlet for all that fire and passion. Gavan’s palm was literally itching to feel her naked bottom underneath it; his cock was becoming unbearably hard at the thought of mounting her and feeling her sheath convulse in orgasmic splendor as he breached her for the first time and shattered her maidenhead.
“Have ye ever watched someone hang?” he whispered. “Unless the hangman is very good at his job, yer neck won’t snap, ye’ll be left to strangle, twisting slowly in the wind. Ye’ll lose control of your bodily functions and will pee and shit yerself. It’s not a pleasant way to die.”
“What your suggesting is perverse and would pretty much amount to the same thing,” she said, recovering her composure.
“Nay, lass. I can see yer intrigued. Ye should be. Caelan and I will see to all yer needs. We’ll keep you warm and happy. Ye ken be happy, if ye allow yerself to be. Besides, ye have no choice. I want yer word that ye’ll take yer vows when the judge comes to perform the ceremony.”
She shook her head. “No and, even if you make me, I’ll gut you the first chance I get.”
Choosing to ignore her, he said, “Ye’ll do nothing of the sort. You either behave, or your first spanking may be with an audience.”
ELIZABETH
* * *
Who was this asshole? Why did she find it difficult to breathe when he was so near? She recognized him as the dark one from the trial, but she’d never had such a visceral reaction to a man. The feeling of his hand gently squeezing her bottom sent jolts of arousal into her nether regions. She’d have rubbed her legs together to ease the ache if he hadn’t managed to get one of his thighs between her own.
His thigh was hard and bespoke of power, as did the hard length that was confined by his trousers. When he moved his hands across her breast, it was all she could do to keep her knees from buckling. She wondered if he had any idea how much she longed to feel him stroke every inch of her body, inside and out.
Gavan MacLean was a tall, heavily muscled man who looked like he’d be more at home in a military uniform than in chaps, boots, and a hat. Black hair, mostly clean shaven, dark eyes, and a voice that could melt molasses. His accent and bearing combined to have her all but melting against him.
