Cocoon
Ewan narrowed his eyes as the sun’s rays caused him to blink them open. He’d never stayed abed so late in his life, but then again he’d never spent an entire night and the early hours of the morning making love. Filling Shona with his seed seemed to have become an addiction. Truth be told, his stamina surprised even him.
She lay atop him now, drooling on his neck, legs splayed and bent so her wet warmth comforted his sated cock curled up at her entry.
A twinge of interest stirred in his balls, but someone tapped at the door, waking Shona.
“Go away,” he shouted gruffly, blowing her hair off his face. “We dinna need anything.”
“I canna, my laird,” Isobel replied meekly. “The lads have buckets o’ hot water.”
“A bath does sound good,” his wife murmured.
That was a fantasy he’d forgotten. Shona in a tub of hot water, naked, Castile soap…
“Come back later,” he shouted.
“I canna,” Isobel repeated. “My laird Kendric asks that ye be in the hall within the hour for a celebration luncheon. Lady Jeannie and her husband are up and dressed already.”
Shona raised her head. “No surprise there,” she quipped. “The prospect of another feast would have quickly roused my aunt from her bed. I suppose we’ll have to get up.”
Getting up was precisely what Ewan had in mind, but, resigned to his fate, he cocooned them both in the linens and gave grudging permission for the maid and her cohorts to enter.
*
Shona wasn’t sure what devilry came over her, but she suddenly had an urge to lick Ewan’s nipples under the covers, even though Isobel stood by the boudoir, exhorting the scullery lads not to spill a drop of the hot water as they poured it into the tub.
With her head under the linens she couldn’t see how many there were, maybe half a dozen judging by the sounds, but in any case she was enjoying making Ewan squirm.
“Minx,” he rasped when she burrowed lower and suckled his arousal, savoring the salty taste of his seed and her own juices. She filled her nostrils with the scent she was coming to recognize as uniquely Ewan.
She liked that notion so much she said it out loud when she heard the door close. “Uniquely Ewan.”
Suddenly, her husband leapt from the bed and threw off the linens. Cool air caused her to shiver, but it paled in comparison to the apprehensive expectation rippling in her belly, and lower, when she beheld the magnificent aroused male looming over her. “Naughty lasses must be punished,” he warned in a teasing voice.
She squealed a protest when he flipped her over and smacked her bottom, but the experience was strangely arousing. He spanked her again then kissed away the sting. “This pleases me,” he murmured.
“Me too,” she confessed, gasping with delight when he raised her hips and thrust his fingers inside her. In moments she was riding a wave of bliss, as hot and demanding as the other times he’d pleasured her, yet somehow different. As she came back to earth, he carried her into the boudoir and eased her into the tub.
She luxuriated in the heat of the water, feeling like a nymph being watched by a golden god, aware of his heated gaze on nipples floating just above the surface. She stretched out a hand but couldn’t quite reach his erect manhood. “Come closer,” she said seductively.
He smiled the lustful Ewan Mackinloch smile. “Be careful what ye wish for,” he replied.
In seconds, he joined her in the tub before she could protest it was too small. His feet pressed against her hips; his knees protruded above the water. She stopped laughing when he took her hand and curled it round his underwater arousal. “Better?” he asked, handing her the soap.
“Much,” she conceded, accepting the challenge.
*
Isobel was nowhere in evidence when the newlyweds emerged from their bath, but she’d laid out fresh clothing.
Ewan eyed the bed on which the maid had spread the garments. “Something tells me she changed the linens,” he said.
“I doot she’d think to do that herself,” Shona replied, donning her shift. “She’s just a child.”
He raised an eyebrow as he quickly shrugged the shirt over his head. Watching his wife dress was proving to be as arousing as stripping her naked. “She probably had help.”
He pulled back the covers. “Definitely fresh.”
She gathered the frock, ready to lift it over her head, but then paused. “This means ye’re already The Camron.”
Determined to get a last look at the breasts he’d come to know so intimately before she donned the gown, he wasn’t really paying attention to what she said.
“The pole,” she explained, her voice muffled by the frock.
Without thinking he grasped his hardening manhood.
She shoved her arms in the sleeves and eyed him. “Not that pole, we dinna have time. My uncle is waiting. I mean the sheets…Walter.”
He was instantly contrite. Having made love to his wife countless times during the night and early morning, the taking of her maidenhead seemed eons ago. He took her into his embrace. “I’m a typical Highlander,” he confessed, “a thoughtless ravisher who cares naught that he deflowered a maiden and hasna even asked if it was painful.”
Desire flared when she pressed her mons to his arousal. “The pain was fleeting,” she whispered. “The ecstasy went on and on.”
“Are ye sure we dinna have time…”
Shaking her head, she pulled away. “Come, Laird Ewan Mackinloch. Yer people await. But best ye put some clothes on first.”