I flicked my gaze from the coated phallus to Ian's face and back. He was earnest about his intentions and not making light of it in any way. I'd mentioned anal once to a guy and he'd been all into it. When he called me a dirty slut as he was reaching for a condom, I kicked him out of my bed.
"Is this what you meant by being naughty?" I asked. Did he think I was a dirty slut, too? Surely Glynnis had, although I had to assume she didn't know the object had been given to me expressly for my ass instead of my pussy.
He must have seen the vulnerability I felt on my face because he placed his hand on the table beside my head and leaned down over me. With his free hand, he stroked my sweaty brow. "You're a naughty lass because you've bewitched me. I fell under your spell years ago and I havena been able to escape. I waited for you, Alexandra, and now you're mine. While this may be a verra naughty act we're going to do tonight, we'll do it together. It will make us one. I doubt anyone out there—" He canted his head toward the door. "—will think I'm naughty. Lucky, perhaps, but definitely bewitched."
I felt his words in my heart, down deep in my soul.
"You were playing with that rod for me. I asked you to use it, to ready yourself for me. I'd say you're a verra good girl."
I smiled brilliantly then, and gave him a slight nod.
Pushing off the table, he stood before me again. "Now, show me how you worked that rod past that tight entrance. It is smaller than my cock, so use this first and then you'll get my cock later."
Moving the dildo between my legs, I pressed it against my back entrance. My eyes widened at the slick feel of it. It was hard and unforgiving and I had to hope that I actually had been using it. I wanted to please Ian, even in this.
Taking hold of my knees, he gently pushed them back, lifting my hips off the table. He was allowing me easier access, but it certainly didn't allow me to hide my actions.
I couldn't hide anything from Ian. I knew that. Not only was my body spread open and exposed for him, but my heart as well.
Carefully, I pushed the dildo against my entrance, moving it around and trying to get it to push in. My body was fighting it, but I instinctively knew what to do. Taking a deep breath, I relaxed and pushed outward and somehow that made the tip of it go in. It made no sense, but it worked. It was uncomfortable, the stretching, but it didn't hurt. I lifted my eyes and watched Ian watching the dildo breach me. He was enthralled and aroused.
The idea of having the man Duncan marry me when it seemed Ian had wanted to do so must have been horrible for him. The guy obviously had taken my virginity, he'd taken something that would have been precious to Ian. For him, knowing that my ass had not been touched by Duncan was something he could claim, changed the idea of this kind of sexual play. This wasn't play, it was a connection.
I slid it in further, but when Ian's jaw clenched tight and his fingers gripped my knees, I stopped.
He took hold of my wrist and pulled back, slipping the dildo from my body.
"Enough. A man is only so strong."
Ian dropped to his knees at the foot of the table, grabbed hold of my hips and pulled me roughly to the edge. I was exposed and open, so close to his face I felt his warm breath on my inner thigh. My legs fell over his shoulders, down his back. His large hands grabbed my ass and held me tightly to his mouth while he lapped the full length of my slick folds. I tried to arch up off the table but he held me firmly in place. There was nothing for me to do but tangle my fingers in his silky hair and enjoy the torturous pleasure. His tongue swirled across my clit, his mouth sucked on it.
"Ian! Please."
"Please what?" he asked from between my thighs. His voice was husky and dark with his own desire. "Please lick your quim and taste you?"
Oh yes, I wanted him to lick and taste me. Just watching him lick my juices from his fingers had been hot, but his dark head at the juncture of my legs? I groaned again.
God, the man was skilled. He might be from a time when the word technology didn't exist, when electricity and cars were unheard of, but when it came to making love to a woman, he knew all the right buttons to push. Or lick. Suck. Fuck.
"Yes!" I'd had a guy or two go down on me, but I'd never gotten into it completely, never to the point where I lost control of my body. How my clit, something so small, so far south, made my scalp tingle? My toes curl?
My orgasm was building. Fast. It was like climbing a hill, steep and long, working, straining, sweating to get to the top. Then at the pinnacle, stars shined bright, the sun blinded, vertigo overwhelmed. All that was left to do was savor the ride back down.
But, no. The peak was out of my grasp because… damn him… Ian pulled away.
"No!" I called out, ready to cry. "Suck it. Lick my clit!"
Ian stood and leered, wiped my cream from his mouth with the back of his hand. It wasn't quite a smile. He looked thrilled to have me in such a state, the bastard. "Nay. I want ye to milk my cock when ye reach yer pleasure."
My lower legs hung down off the edge of the table, Ian's body positioned between them. I pushed up and grabbed hold of the front of his shirt, tugging at the fabric, pulling it free from the belt, the kilt. Inch by inch Ian's flat stomach was revealed before he lifted the garment up and over his head, dropping it to the floor. Dark, springy hair covered his abs, heat emanated from his skin, burning my palms. He didn't have a six pack. It had to be at least an eight pack, maybe twelve.
Wow. Shit. Or whatever was said in Scotland. Damn, he was one fine man, my husband. I leaned in and kissed his chest, licking over his pebbled nipple, one then the other. I felt, as much as heard, his groan against my mouth. See how he liked it! He tasted clean, his hair tickled my tongue. His scent wasn't anything I recognized except pure, raw male. No strong soap scent, no cologne. All Ian.
He held himself still, perhaps letting me continue to have my way. Letting was the key word for I knew he would take control back from me when he wanted it. My hands grabbed him about the neck and pulled his head down to mine for a kiss. An all consuming, tongue tangling, mind blowing, mouth fucking kiss. Without breaking the lip lock, I reached down and worked at the clasp on his belt. If I could undo that, hopefully he'd be naked. Fast. Weren't men supposed to be naked beneath their kilts? God, I couldn't wait to find out.
Ian shoved my hands away and took care of the archaic buckle himself. His motions, as well as the breath expanding his already broad chest, were ragged. The long plaid fell to the floor.
I broke the kiss to look at him. Holy shit, he didn't wear anything under the kilt. I couldn't help the way my eyes widened at the sight. I'd seen a few cocks in my time, but not like this. His was like the rest of him, big and broad. It was also deliciously thick as it curved upward and almost reached his navel. A pulsing vein followed up the long length to the wide head. Clear fluid seeped from the tip. Yum.