Cait and the Devil

“Well, then, she shall wake. Let me by.”

Henna put her hand on his arm.

“You’ll not take her to that woman. Mother or not, I don’t trust her. I didn’t like the look of her.”

“I assure you I have no intention of that. Let me pass.”

“Why? What will you do to her now? She cried herself to sleep after you sent her away.”

Duncan gathered his last hold on his temper to speak civilly. “Henna, I love you dearly, but I promise if you do not let me pass to my wife at once you will live with regret.”

Henna set her face and stepped aside. “What is it?”

“It cannot wait, Henna. Not any longer. I’m sure you’ll be pleased to hear that.”

“You’ll have her tonight?”

“Yes, right now.”

“In this temper, this agitation? My lord—”

“Henna, I beg you, please. I don’t wish to hurt you in anger,” he said, pushing her from the door.

“Better me than her. You’ve made her cry enough already!”

Their escalating voices roused Cait, who sat up in bed in alarm. Duncan pushed past Henna and lifted Cait from the nest of rumpled bedding, carrying her over to the door between their rooms and kicking it open with a bang.

“My lord—” Henna pleaded.

“Good night, Henna,” said Duncan before slamming the door. He dropped Cait on the bed and began to shed his clothes. She watched for a moment in wary confusion before standing to take off her own clothes. Before she could fall to her knees he took her arm and led her back to the bed.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a whisper. “I’m sorry, Duncan, for whatever I did.”

“Hush.” He lay down next to her on the bed. He traced her arm, looking down at her black curls, her striking pale blue eyes.

Little priestess. It was all explained. No wonder she cast such a spell on him.

She peered up at him nervously. “What can I do to make things better? Tell me. I’m sorry. Earlier tonight—”

He put a finger to her lips. “Hush. Earlier tonight was an eternity ago. You’re forgiven. Now, you must forgive me for being untruthful to you.”

“You were untruthful to me?”

You have no idea how terribly untruthful I’ve been.

“There is another way to...to make a baby come,” he said, “but I...I haven’t wanted to use you that way because...it will hurt the first time.”

He looked down at her to gauge her reaction to his ridiculous excuse. She was not an idiot. She knew as well as he that he hurt her, at least a little, every time he forced her from behind, or made her lay over his lap, or stand against the wall to be punished. She made the obvious assumption, that what he was talking about would hurt even worse.

“I...I...” she stammered bravely.

“It will not hurt as much as you think. It will hurt just a little in the beginning and then it will feel fine. Quite wonderful actually. I’m not sure why I waited so long to show you this.” Perhaps because I was afraid you might die.

“Will it feel good for you too?” she asked, no doubt because of the scowl on his face.

“Yes, dearest, it will feel good for me too.”

“Then why do you look so sad?” She reached up to caress his face, soothing him with her soft, warm touch.

“I just feel anxious. Anxious to get it over with.” He parted her legs, reaching between her thighs to caress her center. How many nights had he lain awake dreaming of this? Even now he was so hard it was painful.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I won’t be mad if you hurt me.”

He couldn’t help but smile as he nuzzled her.

“God forbid I would hurt my precious wife.”

“Oh.” She sighed as he found her sensitive button and pinched it, then stroked it lightly. “That feels good.” She arched against him. It was an invitation he would no longer deny.

He nudged his cock into her slit slowly, feeling its wet welcoming heat.

“Oh, that feels...different,” she breathed.

He sighed, arching over her, sucking her nipples into his mouth gently, then biting just enough to make her gasp. “Oh, please!”

“Please what?” he asked, finding it difficult to speak.

“Please hurt me now. I’m ready,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Oh, it felt good, but she knew something painful was coming. He’d warned her. She just wanted to get it over with. His strong arms cradled her and she knew it was coming. She tensed as he rose up between her legs. He drew her thighs farther apart, positioning herself with a low moan, and then he thrust in her, rough and deep.

She tensed and gasped at the pain of it. Her nails dug into his back, but he didn’t move, he didn’t release her.

“Be easy, Caitlyn. That’s the worst of it.”

She lay very still under him.

“All right? It will start to feel better in a moment.”

“I’m fine,” she said, but she was anything but. He had forced her open with a terrible sharp pain she’d never felt before, as if something had torn. “I think...I think I’m broken.”

He chuckled softly. “I promise you’re not.”

He nuzzled her for a moment, easing in and out of her with shallow, slow movements. To her surprise, it did begin to feel good. Exceptionally good. The sharp, jagged pain of his entrance eased into something much more exciting and deep.

He seemed to sense the moment she relaxed, the moment her sigh signaled the desire for something more. He thrust in her deeply then, to the hilt, cradling her, pulling her closer, closer still. Her bottom was still painful from the punishment she’d had earlier. She felt his fingers grasp her welted buttocks, adding an edge of sharp sensation to the liquid, shapeless pleasure overtaking her, washing over her. He was so close to her, so very close.

This was nothing at all like when he’d taken her with his mouth, not at all the same, and it was strikingly different from when he’d taken her in her bottom. Then, he had been slow, careful, deliberate, bent over her back, taking her with tense and measured strokes. Now, he almost lifted her from the bed with his powerful thrusts, and she arched to take more and more of him. Each time he filled her, exquisite, beautiful sensation warmed her entire pelvis and shot up to her tingling breasts. His lips were buried in her neck, in her hair, next to her ear.

“Oh, Cait, Cait, Cait...” he whispered as he took her. She could only moan in reply. She was so full, so warm, so completely close to him. She could see now how a baby might come of this. There had to be an extra power, an extra potency to this kind of joining. She had never felt something so magically akin to love. “Duncan, please,” she sighed, pulling him closer.

“Yes,” he agreed. “Yes, yes, yes.”

He loved her until she almost sobbed from the arousal that gathered at her core. With a flash of white heat, she came, molten love and lust overtaking her body, and shuddered through a long, glorious orgasm in his arms. He came too, arching over her powerfully and grunting as he emptied his seed inside her. With a long, drawn out sigh, he came to rest.

He collapsed beside her, then stroked her arm and shoulder thoughtfully. Cait looked up at his morose expression in puzzlement. She had greatly enjoyed this joining, even considering the initial pain. It had been a small price to pay for the pleasure that followed, but Duncan looked down at her as if he mourned.

“Are you sad?”

“No.” He forced a smile, with effort, to his face.

She wished she knew why he was so unhappy. Ever since their trip to the lake, ever since she’d written in the sand...

“Duncan, if you wish it, I will never read and write again. If it displeases you... I do not care if I do it or not.”

He shook his head. “Cait, no...I don’t care either. Listen, I wish I could explain... Things are just complicated now. Things grow more complicated by the day. But it’s no fault of yours, I promise you. My happiness does not hinge on whether my

wife can read or write, but on whether or not she is safe.”

“Am I not safe?” she asked. “I stay with my guards, Duncan. I won’t stray into town if you don’t wish me to.”

“You are safe. There is no need to worry if you continue to follow my rules. Now, you must be tired, dearest,” he said. “Close your eyes and sleep.”

“I’m not tired,” she said, but she knew her limp, relaxed body cradled against his said otherwise.

“Oh, aren’t you?” His fingers began to move lazily over her belly. “My little reader. Let’s play a game. I’ll trace letters on your skin, and you tell me what I write.”

“Okay. But what if I am wrong?”

“Then there will be a forfeit to pay. So listen well.”

“Listen? As you trace on my skin?”

“Listen. Concentrate with your body. I won’t repeat any letters,” he warned.

“Okay. I’m ready.”