Page 5 of The Highlander’s Improper Wife

A woman dressed as a chambermaid faced the stone cherubim, gripping the angel’s shoulders as a masked bandit stood behind her and bunched her drab, brown dress up around her waist.

The bandit swatted her backside with an open palm. A blush of rose colored her cheek.

“Please, do not hurt me,” she begged with feigned acquiescence. “I promise to be good.”

He swatted her again and chuckled. “That I know, I believe I have had you before.”

The bandit held the maid’s dress in place, while loosening the tie on his pantaloons with his free hand, then shoved them down far enough to free his cock. The man took a step forward and plunged his engorged member into the woman. Caroline’s mouth fell open. The kilted stranger pressed closer. His breathing grew shallow and fingers tightened on Caroline’s hips. Did he want the same pleasure from her?

“Beg for my cock,” the bandit said. “Beg me to fuck you.”

“Please. Please, fuck me,” she pleaded as the man thrust his large, ruddy cock in and out of her. Her cries of pleasure matched the rhythm of his pumping hips.

Another loud smacking sound made Caroline jump.

“Oh yes!” the woman cried.

Caroline couldn’t tear her eyes from the sight. “Do you suppose this will take long?” “If it is done right,” the kilted god replied.

She glanced at him and his gaze slowly tracked her face and down her body. He growled and pulled her close. Feral grunts from the man joined the woman’s pants. Caroline’s would-be lover gripped her derrière and pressed her mound against his shaft. A tingle started between her legs and radiated out. The steady, yet rapid beat of her heart throbbed in her nipples and between her legs. He rolled his erection against her a second time and she answered with a tremulous undulation of her hips against him.

“You surely know how to drive a man to his knees,” he said.

Caroline glanced down. His tartan stood at a point, aimed towards her, testament to his arousal. She returned her gaze to his face. “I would like to drive you to your knees, my lord.”

He stared as if daring her to test his worthiness, to push him to the edge, then beyond. She wrapped her fingers around his shaft through his tartan. He shuddered and an unexpected sense of power swelled inside her. A loud moan from the woman made Caroline’s heart pound harder. Dare I?

Caroline glanced up at him. Then she knelt.

“My lady,” he rasped.

She lifted his kilt, exposing heavy, muscular thighs, then lifted it higher. She gasped. The sight of him, the smell so close, intoxicated her beyond any wine she’d drunk tonight. Deep red, his cock jutted from a thatch of dark, tight curls. Tentatively she closed her hand around the girth. He sucked in a ragged breath. She instantly released him.

“Does it hurt?”

He gave a strangled laugh. “Aye.”

He grasped the base of his shaft with one hand and placed the other on her head. She swatted at the hand grasping her wig. If he knocked the wig from her head, the disguise was worthless.

“Take me in your mouth.” His strained voice turned gravelly.

He slid his hand higher along the thick, veined stalk. She breathed in the musky essence as her masked lover stroked the length, pulling back the foreskin to reveal a large, mushroom-shaped head. Clear liquid seeped from the tip. Caroline touched the leaking slit, smoothing the slippery cream over the crown. Sticky, yet the velvety skin felt hot to the touch.

Anxiety surfaced with the memory of overhearing John tell of how women pleasured men in this manner. She had gone to the stables in search of him and stopped short at hearing his voice from within one of the stalls. “I tell you, Matthew, when Clarice took my cock in her mouth, she near did me in with the first stroke.”

The flush Caroline had felt evaporated at the raucous laughter that followed. She had determined to find and bed a young stable boy. Instead, she’d found herself awaiting John in the drawing room like a good soon-to-be-Viscountess.

Her tummy tightened. This man seemed to share John’s baser desires. His cock pulsed. What if she didn’t please him? She steeled her nerves and placed a hand over his. With a breath, she leaned forward and took him into her mouth.

“Sweet Christ,” he ground out.

Caroline glanced up and found him staring as she opened wider and took more of the engorged length into her mouth. The taste of the tangy sweet excretion from the tip was pleasant, but what now?

He must have understood her silent question because he whispered in soft, encouraging words, “Do what you will. I am yours.”

He released his shaft and, covering her hand with his, helped build a rhythm with her strokes. Caroline sucked on the smooth crown and slid her lips along the shaft. She unexpectedly grazed him with her teeth. He jerked and she released him, tumbling to her backside.

She stared up at him, heart pounding. “I–I am sorry.”