Page 18 of Wicked Passions

Master Graham smiled. “Or, you might ask Glennoe to assist. He has a wicked tongue, and if you’ve not had your cunt licked before, let today be the day you learn such pleasures.”

Her body screamed ‘yes’. But her head warned caution. “Just that? I mean, I cannot do more.”

“Just that,” said Glennoe firmly. “If you wish. I would use my lips and tongue between your legs until you gain ease. Alastair would watch.”

“Yes,” she said. “Yes.”

“Then lift your gown,” said Master Graham. “Now.”

On another occasion she might have played coy; raised it slowly to tease. But her need was far too great. Instead, Isla yanked up her gown, kirtle, and shift, before spreading her thighs wide in invitation. The scent of her arousal perfumed the room, but rather than any dismay, both men gazed at her reverently. Hungrily.

Glennoe dropped to his knees between her legs, parted the bush of dark hair and exposed her tender pink flesh. Then, without further ado, he leaned forward and licked her.

Isla bucked at the intense jolt of sensation. But the gentle laird was ruthless as he dragged his tongue back and forth along her slick folds, circling her pearl, even penetrating her tight entrance and darting inside. It felt good. No, far better than good. Divine.

A ragged gasp escaped her lips. “More.”

“Yes, Callum,” rasped Master Graham. “Fuck her with your tongue. Lap up all that sweet honey.”

Isla moaned. “Your cock is hard. Touch it if you want to.”

The squire slowly pulled down his hose, revealing an enormous thick erection. As he began to caress it with those paw-sized palms, the lewd sight combined with the heavenly suction of Glennoe’s lips on her delicate pearl, hurled her over the edge. Isla ground hard against Glennoe’s mouth and chin as bright starbursts exploded behind her eyes, crying out with pleasure as she gripped the chaise arm and writhed in bliss.

Saints alive.

Only her best swordplay victory could possibly compare to that.

* * *

He’d finished second in his race and progressed to tomorrow’s archery event. Alastair had brought him to a thunderous release with his mouth and hands. Now he’d made Lady Isla cry out with pleasure, and had the heavenly taste of her spiced honey on his tongue.

All in all, a splendid day.

Gulping air to calm his racing heart, Callum leaned against the arm of the chaise and watched Alastair handle his engorged cock, the strain of release denied apparent on his face.

“Will you spend in my mouth, Alastair?” he asked. “Then I’ll have the taste of both of you there.”

“Please do,” said Lady Isla hoarsely. “The two of you together takes my breath away.”

His squire stalked toward him like a rampant beast, and Callum went up on his knees to receive the thick length dripping with pearly moisture. One of Alastair’s huge hands curled around his neck and gripped it, a show of dominance so arousing he shuddered.

“Suck me, my laird,” growled Alastair, easing his cock into Callum’s mouth.

Heady excitement rushed through him. Tasting his squire’s cock, being ordered to pleasure him while Lady Isla watched avidly and touched herself…he’d never felt quite so necessary. So wanted. His hands moved up Alastair’s thighs, one to circle the base of his cock, and one so he might stroke his heavy balls. Then Callum closed his lips around the warm, pulsing flesh, using his tongue to tease the underside of Alastair’s cock, and hollowing his cheeks to increase the tug and pull. The earthy seed was delicious and he sucked greedily for more.

Alastair groaned, the smooth, shallow thrusts becoming unsteady, rougher and deeper, until that glorious hardness fucked Callum’s mouth. He breathed through his nose, kept his throat relaxed, unwilling to surrender even a moment of being owned in this way. The other man’s sounds of enjoyment filled the room, but Callum could also hear fingers penetrating slick cunt, and the lusty scents of feminine honey, sweat, and seed hardened his own cock again.

Alastair turned to Lady Isla. “My laird’s mouth is a priceless treasure, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes,” she gasped. “P-perfection. Now fill it. Make him take your seed. Every drop.”

His squire thrust harder. “Heed the lady. Every drop.”

Callum moaned, feverishly sucking and licking, and when he delved further between Alastair’s legs to stroke his back entrance, a guttural roar nearly shook the furniture. Warm, sticky seed gushed into his mouth and he swallowed it down; Lady Isla’s wild cry of release prompting his own to soak the front of his hose.

After carefully withdrawing his cock, Alastair sank onto the chaise next to Lady Isla. Callum swayed and sat back heavily on his arse, his head resting on the chaise. None were capable of speech.

It might have been minutes or hours later, but abruptly Lady Isla giggled.