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As I slide my hand under his kilt, I’m pleased to find the old myths are true about what a Scotsman wears beneath it. I grab his hard member and squeeze. He groans into our kiss, and he shifts his hips so he’s thrusting himself into my hand.
Our mouths become inseparable as I work my hand down his shaft to find his balls. I gently squeeze them, rolling them in my hand then stroking my fingers across them and back up to grab his shaft.
“Quinn,” he gasps, breaking the kiss. “Are ya sure? We do nae have to.”
“Hush,” I say, placing my hand over his mouth.
He sucks my fingers, and it feels like I’m gushing in my nether regions. My mouth fills with saliva and I know what I want to do. What I need. He grabs my wrist then takes my fingers, one at a time and sucks them in his mouth. As he does, I lower myself to my knees and lift his kilt.
His hard member is erect and ready. Without hesitating, I take the head into my mouth and hold it, swirling my tongue around the hard ridge of the glans. He gasps and thrusts his hips forward. I let him slide in deeper, keeping my mouth wide. Once he stops his forward thrust, I work my tongue around the shaft while sucking.
He groans and I do too. He kisses my fingers, strokes my face and hair. No guy I’ve ever been with has ever given me attention like this and it feels amazing. I slide up and down his shaft, working him deeper into my throat. I use my free hand to tug on his balls, pulling them gently down then squeezing, releasing, and repeating the motion.
When his dick swells in my mouth and he stops working my fingers to gasp air, I know he’s about to lose it. I grab his balls and squeeze, not too hard but hard enough to distract him from losing his load. It works perfectly.
I pull my mouth off his cock and rise to my feet. He kisses me without hesitation, which makes me love him all the more. Wrapping his arms around my waist, he lowers me to the ground as we work together to get my dress up past my waist.
I leave the skirt to him in favor of freeing my breasts. I undo the tie of my blouse until it's loose enough that they are exposed to the night air. My nipples are dark and hard, flushed with blood from all the attention, cool air, and pent-up desire.
Hovering over me outlined by the gentle light of the moon, Duncan stops and stares. He has his mouth open, and his eyes are alight with desire staring at my exposed breasts. His mouth moves as if he’s going to speak but no sound comes. It’s no more than a heartbeat but it’s one of those moments that freezes in time. Instead of speaking, he drops his head, taking one nipple in his mouth.
His rough tongue lashes my hard nipple. I gasp in surprise; my nipples have always been extremely sensitive. Pleasure mixes with a hint of pain. He sucks on my tit while his tongue rolls around the nipple. I buck my hips against him as his attention makes my pussy wetter.
He breaks his suction seal on my breast and slides up between my legs, one hand between us as he guides his cock home. He stares into my eyes as the head of his dick presses against my opening.
I bite my lower lip, my eyes half-closed. The stars array to outline him, the galactic dust of the Milky Way stretching across the night sky. Then he thrusts. I’m ready, so, so ready. He slides in, fully seating himself in me, and holds.
We both gasp. I wrap my fingers in his hair, tilting my head back and groaning softly. He feels so good. His cock fills the aching empty need. His chest rests on mine, and I feel his heart as if it’s the thundering hoofbeats of a stampede. My own heart responds, coming into time with him.
Slowly, in an impressive display of control and will, he slides out. Emptiness flows behind his exit and I groan at the loss, but it is momentary. He slides back in and as he does, he lowers his lips to mine.
We kiss as we commit our bodies to each other. The ultimate affirmation of life. In the face of his death that I know is coming, I give myself to him. Or I take him. I take him to be mine, into not only my bed or my arms, but into my heart.
I’m going to save him. He will live. If I am what they claim, if I am the Destroyer, then I will destroy any who try to harm him.
Our bodies find the natural rhythm that comes as two people learn from each other. Hips moving in time with beating hearts. Speeding up as we build towards the ultimate climax. I feel it coming, building in the same way I can feel a thunderstorm building. It gently grows like the storm clouds gathering.
Disaster sits right over the horizon and none of us are ready but right now, at this moment, I am staking my claim. Duncan is mine and I am his. I will do whatever it takes to save him.
He thrusts and twists his hips in a way that is so pleasing it is as if this is our hundredth time together, not our first. He knows what I like, how I like it, and what will push me to the finite yet infinite edge that I dance on before the orgasm takes over.
We hang together, each thrust harder, deeper, driving towards the cliff. I dig my nails into his back as we teeter together then as one, we fall. My pleasure is blinding in its intensity. There is no other thought, no other world beyond the two of us.
“Quinn,” he gasps, shuddering as aftershocks rush through him and his dick spasms deep inside of me.
Miniature orgasms continue through my body as we hold each other and kiss until at last his dick softens and he pulls out. He rolls over and lies beside me. I shift, putting my head on his shoulder, and listen to his breath and heart.
We lie underneath the moon and stars while the earth spins on, and I think of nothing as long as I can. But I can hold my problems at bay for only so long. They come crashing back and bring the harshness of reality with them.
Somehow, I have to stop what I know is coming. I must change history, no matter what the Fae says is impossible. If I can’t, if the MacGregors go for retribution on the Colquhouns, the wheels of history will crush them.
I don’t want this moment to end. I love lying here, staring at the wide-open sky. Counting stars as he idly plays with my hair with one hand and his other traces small circles across my body. But want and reality are at war and in this case, with these stakes, reality wins.
“What day is tomorrow?” I ask.
“Tomorrow? Does it matter?”
“How long until the clan is going to seek retribution? What day is it?”
