Kilty Plea (Kilty Pleasures Book 2), page 10
“Well, I had a meeting with some new men in Oban.” The older man shrugged good-naturedly. “And I thought I’d stop by MacIntyre Castle to see how married life was treating my favorite King’s Hunter.”
Payton shook his head, keeping his voice low. “Ye ken as well as I, Flora and I arenae truly married.”
“It hasnae stopped ye from fooking her up, down, and sideways, eh?” The Abbot winked lewdly. “I did ye a favor, and I want ye to remember that.”
Christ, Payton could barely think over the pounding of the blood in his temples. “What?” he snarled.
“A favor.” Grinning, the Abbot winked again. “An easy way to wet yer wick, as I said, and she’s a fine one. I did ye a favor, and I’ll need one soon enough.”
A favor? “I killed yer bandits!” Payton blurted incredulously. “As ordered by the King himself.”
“Aye, a man with the King’s ear is a powerful friend.” The Abbot winked yet again, but this time ‘twas not vulgar. More…cheerful. “There might be more little tasks I could use a friend for, and ye owe me a debt now.”
What had Flora told him, all those weeks ago when he’d found her waiting for him on the roadside?
That’s why we were there—to be useful to him. To be given away…gifted to his friends or used to pay debts.
In order to stop his fist from slamming into the holy man’s face, Payton whirled, searching out Flora.
She wasn’t on the bench, and his frantic gaze didn’t see her.
Stalking away from the Abbot without a word, he reached his brother. “Daniel,” he demanded, latching onto his brother’s arm. “The Abbot of the Abbey of the People is over there. Do no’ let him leave, aye?”
He waited until Daniel nodded in excitement and began to push his way through the crowd toward the Abbot, and then Payton turned for the stairs, praying he’d guessed correctly.
When he pushed open the door to his chambers, he blew out a sigh of relief.
Aye, there she was, standing with her back to him, staring into the fire. Her arms were wrapped around her middle, and her shoulders were slumped. Payton took the time to latch the door, so they wouldn’t be interrupted.
“Flora?” he asked quietly.
When she glanced over her shoulder at him, he saw the tear tracks, and his chest suddenly tightened.
“Flora!” Chest tight, he lunged across the room to her. “What is it, lass?”
But when he reached for her, she ducked out of his hold, silent tears still rolling down her cheeks.
Seeing her like this—and unwilling to accept his comfort—damned near broke him. “Flora?” he whispered, reaching out again, and she flinched away.
Nay.
Nay, no’ Flora.
Payton was used to flinches, used to people winces and looking away from him…but not from her. She hadn’t, not once.
And he wasn’t certain why that was important, but it was.
He stood there, in the center of the room, listening to her sniffles, and feeling useless. Useless and helpless, and not certain he should even be here.
Flora had her arms wrapped around her middle, her shoulders hunched. She stood beside the bed, her back to him.
She’d heard what the Abbot had said, obviously. ‘Twas terrible timing, for the man to say such hateful things in her hearing.
“Flora?” he whispered yet again, begging her to speak to him.
She sniffed. “Why—” When her voice cracked, she swallowed and tried again. “Why did ye no’ fook me last night, Payton? Why have ye no’ yet—” A sob interrupted her.
Suddenly wide-eyed, Payton stared at her back.
What?
That hadn’t been what he’d expected her to ask, not at all. Was that why she was crying?
She was waiting for an answer, and he wasn’t certain he could give her one. Not without baring his soul.
“Because,” he finally admitted. “I didnae want to fook ye.”
With a gasp, Flora whirled around, her hazel glare half-hurt, half-murderous. Payton’s lips twitched ruefully, and he shrugged.
“I want to make love to ye, lass,” he said quietly. “Can ye no’ understand the difference?”
Her anger had turned to a wide-eyed look of wonder, and when he asked that, she stared at him for a long moment before finally nodding.
“I—” Flora began, before being cut off by another sob.
Payton held his arms out to her, praying she’d accept his comfort—accept him. With another sob, she flew to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek to his chest.
She cried, but not for as long as he thought she might. Och, aye, she soaked the front of his shirt, and he resisted the urge to tease her, the same he’d teased her about drooling on him. Payton stroked her back, and occasionally pressed kisses to the top of her head, and just willed her to take his strength.
At long last, she sniffed. In a muffled voice, she asked, “Fine. Why did ye no’ make love to me last night?”
Payton snorted. “I wanted to.”
“Ye didnae.”
“Och, I did, lass. Trust me.”
She pulled away to frown up at him. “Then why…?”
Why didn’t he?
With a sigh, Payton pulled her toward the room’s single chair. The bed was closer, and likely more comfortable, but this conversation wasn’t the kind he needed to have on the bed. Or anywhere near the bed.
Not if he wanted to get through it without kissing her again.
But he wasn’t going to survive without touching her, so when he sat, he pulled her into his lap. Just like atop the horse, only this time she could turn toward him and wrap her arms around his neck.
“Last night, Flora…” he began, then trailed off, because he wasn’t certain how to finish that thought. He tried again. “Last night, ye were obligated. I brought ye pleasure, aye?” he asked gently.
St. Bart’s left elbow, he knew he’d brought her pleasure. If he closed his eyes, he’d still be able to taste that pleasure, remember the way she’d felt, squeezing him…
She was staring at his chin. “Nae man has ever cared about my pleasure,” she admitted in a whisper.
“I care about naught else, love.” Once ‘twas said, a weight lifted from Payton’s shoulders. He’d admitted how he felt about her, and the castle hadn’t come crashing down around his head.
“Then…” Gray-green eyes flicked to his, then away. “Why did ye no’…”
Payton sighed and shifted his hold on her. “Because, love. Last night was about ye. Ye didnae have to do aught for me.”
“I wanted to,” she sniffed.
That sounded like a weak argument to him. She peeked up at him again.
“What about the other nights, Payton?”
Every night since they’d arrived and told his family they were married. Every night since he’d kissed her again.
“Ye…were tired?” he tried.
Flora frowned. “I wouldnae have been tired if ye’d been kissing me.”
Och, she was likely correct. He sighed again, hating that he had to spell this out.
“Because, Flora, ye didnae want it.”
She suddenly stiffened, her arms falling away from his neck. “W-what?”
“Ye only offered yer body to me afore because ye needed something from me.” Payton scrubbed his hand over his face. “Do ye no’ understand? ‘Tis the only reason any woman would offer herself to me! Whores want money, ladies want influence…”
“And I wanted to find my brother,” Flora finished dully. “That’s what ye think, aye?”
Payton’s arm tightened around her for a moment, before relaxing. He had her in his lap now, aye, but he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. “The abbot offered ye to me, as if ye were some kind of chattel, because he wanted me to be obligated to him. Do ye understand, lass? In my world, fooking is about obligation, and I didnae want that.”
She was staring at the fire again, and he could see the tears in her eyes. Finally, she said quietly, “Nay.”
Nay?
When she turned back to him, her expression fell into a scowl. “Nay. When we’re together, Payton—and we will be together—we will nae be fooking.” Anger charged her tone now, and she pushed away from him. “Last night…”
She shook her head as she stood, and he had to curl his hands into fists to keep from reaching for her, pulling her back when she clearly didn’t want to be with him.
But to his surprise, she turned and placed her hands on his shoulders, bending closer. “Last night was the first inkling I had that a man could be aught other than painful.”
His heart clenched at the thought of a man touching her with something besides reverence, but she went on.
“Last night, ye taught me I was worth caring for. I was worth pleasure. I was worth…” She shook her head, then took a deep breath, holding his gaze. “And I ken this.”
Instead of continuing, she leaned forward and kissed him.
Not on the lips, but on his brow.
Then, her lips dropped to the bridge of his nose, which had been destroyed years ago. Then she kissed the scar under his left eye. She used her fingertips to turn his head so she could kiss what remained of his ruined ear.
And each touch of her lips…was like a brand.
He could feel her in his skin, in his soul. He could feel her breath, taste her heart, close his eyes and still see her brilliant light.
‘Twas a benediction.
“Last night, Payton,” she whispered, “I wanted to bring ye pleasure. No’ because ye brought me pleasure. No’ because I was obligated…but because yer pleasure would bring me joy.”
He was having trouble taking a breath, but he understood what she meant. “’Twas why I did it,” he admitted.
“Aye.” Her lips curled into a grin, and her eyes, so close, suddenly sparkled. Not with tears, but with something else. “And ye must concede it could be the same for me, aye?”
His response was an immediate shake of his head. “Nay.”
“Nay?” She frowned, but teasingly. “Why no’? Why could I no’ want to bring ye pleasure?”
“Because ye are beautiful, Flora, and I’m…” A monster. He shook his head. “I’m no’.”
“Oh, suck a duck!” She blew out a breath and straightened, her hands going to her hips as she shook her head. “Suck a duck, Payton.”
His lips twitched at her language. Even when she was being difficult, he loved this woman!
Flora was scowling for certes as she stared down at him. Finally, she reached for his hands. “I’m no’ beautiful,” she said, pulling him to his feet. “But ye’re the only man who’s ever said that to me.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Shut up, Payton, and take yer clothes off.”
He blinked. “Why?”
“Because, ye dobber.” Flora reached up, clapped her hands on either side of his face, and drew him down to her. “I’m going to show ye how beautiful ye are.”
Chapter 9
Unresisting, Payton allowed her to push him down to the mattress. They were both nude now, although he’d offered little noises of protest throughout.
The silly man still didn’t understand, did he?
“Flora—” he began, but she straddled him, and he nearly bit his tongue off.
“Last night, ye showed me my pleasure was important,” she whispered to him, moving up his body until her hands were pressed into the bed on either side of his head. She could feel his cock, already stiff, brushing against her arse. “And I want more.”
“Aye, lass.” His voice was raspy as he settled his hands on her hips. “Aught ye want, I’ll give it to ye.”
‘Twasnae I love ye, but ‘twas close enough. Flora grinned.
“Good. I was hoping ye’d say that.”
Then she kissed him.
It wasn’t a desperate sort of kiss, nor a gentle one. More…teasing. She teased his lips with hers, and then with her tongue, wondering if he could taste how much she wanted him.
The ale is making ye bold.
Nay, whatever effects the ale might’ve caused had dried up when she’d seen the Abbot. Hearing his words, hearing how he’d manipulated Payton, and expected to continue to manipulate him…it had made her want to attack the man; to hurt him for the way he’d hurt her, the way he was trying to hurt Payton.
Then she remembered Payton didn’t belong to her, not really. Ye ken as well as I, Flora and I arenae truly married. Payton himself had said that.
But she wanted to be. Running—and the tears—had seemed natural, and until he’d found her, she hadn’t been really certain why she was crying. But then he was there, and she knew; she was crying for what she’d lost with him.
And now, after hearing his stupid reasoning, his attempts to place his own fears in her mouth…Flora knew she’d have to show him the truth.
So, this kiss…’twas all about drawing him out. Showing him how much she loved him.
Her lips trailed over his scar, his brows, his hairline. Really, she’d only bothered making that move because it moved her breasts into his face, which turned out to be quite a lot of fun. His tongue found her nipples, and a giggle escaped her lips before she could control it.
His hands had slid around to her rear end, his fingers kneading the flesh there. She knew she’d put on weight since arriving at MacIntyre Castle, but would never be curvy.
He didn’t seem to mind.
She reversed direction, kissing him down his neck again, biting him gently on his collarbone, then licking the spot to soothe it. His groan was barely audible, coming more from his chest than his throat, and when she peeked up, she saw his eyes were tightly shut, his head thrown back.
Oh, did he think this was torture? She’d show him.
Flora shifted her weight down his body until she straddled his thighs, then straightened. His member—jutting tall and proud—rested against the front of her mound, and she sat back so she could peer at it.
His fingertips dug into her hips, but he still wasn’t looking at her. Could he feel her gaze? Feel how wet she was for him already?
His cock jumped, and she grinned. Mayhap he could.
After only a heartbeat’s hesitation, Flora wrapped her fingers around it, and this time he exhaled his groan.
Twas thick, aye, but she hadn’t expected otherwise, because Payton was a big man. What surprised her was the feel of it—hard, aye, but yet…somehow soft. The tip was darker than the rest, and as she dragged her palm over him, she felt a bead of moisture seep from it.
She smiled in delight.
“Christ, Flora,” he rasped. “Ye’re killing me.”
“No’ yet.”
Her experiences with sex had been violent, angry—not something she’d been allowed to explore. But this man? This man was lying there, allowing her to touch him as much as she wanted.
And she did.
She studied him, she felt him. She suspected she might be teasing him, but she was too delighted by this freedom to worry about that.
His cock felt…right.
Last night, he’d touched her, he’d put his mouth on her. And she wanted to do that, but not right now. Right now, her core was aching, weeping…all over his ballocks.
And she knew what she needed to do.
Still holding him, she shifted forward, lifting her weight onto her knees, grinning wickedly. She waited until he met her eyes, then she sat back again…
Only this time, she pressed his cock against her core, sliding her lips over him, and slicking him with her desire.
His eyes widened on a hiss, and her grin grew.
“Beautiful, Payton,” she whispered the reminder, and did it again. And again, until his hands rose to her hips, then brushed up her sides. Caressing her, cherishing her.
His breathing was as unsteady as hers.
Finally, deciding they’d both been teased enough, Flora reached for his shoulder, steadying herself. Holding his gaze—and his cock—she sank back down atop it.
‘Twas thicker than she expected, but also…perfect. She took her time, allowing her body to adjust, while Payton’s fingers dug into the skin of her arse, his breathing shallow. He was watching her, aye, but making no move.
He was allowing her the freedom to do as she wanted. Needed.
After a moment, she felt…itchy. As if she needed to move. So, she did, rocking forward just slightly, allowing his skin to slide over hers in the most wonderous way. He made no reaction, but the skin around his mouth and eyes tightened, and she knew he was struggling to maintain control.
So, she did it again, this time rocking further before sitting back. Still no response. Again.
Each time, the sensation caused her to catch her breath, her focus on the pressure building between her legs, the pleasure mounting there.
And then, she sank all the way down atop him, so that the head of his cock seemed to brush against the deepest depths of her, and she whimpered.
“Flora,” he rasped, pulling her toward him. “Jesu Christo.”
‘Twas like some spell had broken, and with that, she began to move. She moved, and each time she rocked back against him, they both hissed out a breath, until the rocking—the thrusting, the plunging—was too fast, and she could barely do more than gasp occasionally.
The pleasure built and built, and his hands…oh God, his hands were everywhere. Cupping, holding, tugging. He played with her nipples, he found her arse. And then he tucked his fingers between them, his thumb finding her little nub, and brushing against it gently.
“Pay—” she gasped, not able to finish the rest of the word, as her body convulsed.
She rocked forward, placing her hands on the mattress above his shoulders, leaning toward him…giving him control.
Payton understood. With a growl, he slammed upward, his hips bucking beneath hers, his movements almost frantic. One hand held her hip, and the other continued to torture her with the gentle touches.
Her breasts were close enough for him to put in his mouth, but he didn’t.
“Look at me, lass,” he rasped.
And as her hair fell down around them, blocking the outside world, she did.
She looked deep into his fascinating brown eyes, and she fell.
