Wed To The Warrior (Kilts & Kisses 3)

My blood turns to fire, and my jaw clenches.

“Or you could leave, right now, and I won’t tell your husband exactly how fickle the trash he married is.”

Indignation washes over her like a red tide, and she sneers, her lip curling.

“Try me, Lord Bruce,” she hisses. “I always get my way.”

“I’m very happy for you,” I spit back, sarcasm dripping from my words. “Because so do I. And what ‘my way’ is right now is for you get out.”

Darcy’s eyes narrow to slits, rage clouding her face before she shakes her head, spits on the ground, and whirls to storm from the tent.

I swear, growling as I knock back the last of my whiskey. I shake my head, and I’m about to go fetch more to try and get me through this night without Cat, when there’s another knock outside my tent door.

“Get gone, woman!” I bark savagely, whirling on the door. The flap rustles, and a pale-faced guard—one of Lachlan’s men—sticks his head in.

“My lord Bruce, a raven for you has arrived from Dungow Castle.”

The fury fades from my face as I grin. Dungow is my friend Hamish’s castle.

The guard hands me a note, bows stiffly, and turns to leave before I can ask him to get me more whiskey. No matter, though. I open the sealed note, and when I read it, my sour mood instantly lightens. It’s a note from Hamish and our other friend Malcolm, swearing to be there for my wedding.

My wedding, to her.

My thoughts drift to daydreams of Cat—lying there alone in that bed we almost made ours earlier today. I wonder if she’s remembering the feel of my tongue on her, and I hope it’s keeping her up.

I groan, clutching at the large table in my tent with a rough hand before suddenly, it hits me, and I know what I need to do.

The hell with traditions and superstitions. The girl up in that tower is mine—my bride. And traditions be damned, I will be seeing my bride tonight.

I storm from the tent in a daze, moonlight glowing over everything as I storm right for the tower,

…Right to her.

Chapter 8

Catriona

At first, I think it must be dream. A filthy, wicked, incredible dream, but a dream nonetheless. It’s still dark in my chambers at the top of Aerie Doon Keep, and silent but for the cracking of campfires down on the grounds below the window.

The feeling hits me again—pure, raw pleasure—and I whimper as I arch my back, gasping quietly as sleep fades away.

And its then that I know that this is no dream. I’m not imagining the feeling of heaven between my thighs at all, because it’s really happening to me. I moan softly, and when my hands slide down and run through Callum’s wild dark hair, I moan even deeper as his tongue pushes deeper.

His firm hands are gripping my thighs, spreading my legs wide as he crouches on the bed between them. His sinfully wicked tongue drags slowly up and down my slit, sending ripples of pleasure through my entire body as I gasp into the darkness.

“My lord…” I purr, moaning as his tongue flicks across my little numb, sending shivers up my spine. I coo quietly, my hips moving against his mouth as he sucks my clit between his lips and begins to gently swirl his tongue across it.

“Callum…”

“Lay back, my little love,” he growls into my skin, turning his head to nip gently at the inside of my thigh. He turns back, dragging his tongue oh-so-slowly from the very base of my lips all the way up to my clit. He moves low again, and this time, his tongue dances over my ass, making me gasp sharply in forbidden pleasure before he drags it up every inch of me back to my clit.

Pleasure melts through me, my entire body writhing on the bed under him. His fingers dig into my skin, making me whimper as I grip his hair tighter, pushing my hips against him. His tongue just keeps swirling and dancing over me, his groans rumbling through my very core until I’m clawing at the sheets and melting into the bed. I can feel my slickness coating his face and my thighs, and Callum only groans deeper as his tongue delves deep into my eager cunt.

My breath becomes staggered, my arm crossing over my face to stifle the cries of pleasure as he plays my body like an instrument with that wicked tongue. He moves faster and faster, and my hips roll more and more eagerly and wantonly against his face, until suddenly, as his tongue flicks over my clit, it’s like everything crashes at once.

I bite down hard on my arm, burying the cry of pleasure in my skin as my hips buck against his mouth. His tongue drags the climax from my body, sending me reeling as I come hard against his lips. My body shudders, hands twist the sheets in tight little fists, and my back arches clean off the bed.