Ravished by Redcoats (Highland Heat Book 1) (3 page)

“Yes, I suppose I can guess what has you in a state,” he admitted. “But I admit to being curious as to whether or not you’re short of temper because of what I might be here to ask you or because I’ve taken so long to ask it.”

Unaccountably, my eyes filled with sudden tears.

I didn’t know why.

I wasn’t sad, not precisely. I suppose it was because I was shamed and frustrated and filled with desires that had been denied me so long that I couldn’t hold them back any longer. Because I scarcely knew myself or what I was about anymore. Because I’d never thought to be any man’s mistress, but I somehow now wanted to be. Everything was in turmoil inside me, and came out in a tiny sob that I stifled with the back of my hand.

“Oh, dear,” Major Anderson said, his grin disappearing. “Oh, no. There, there, Mrs. Darrow, please don’t cry.” With that, he found a handkerchief within his coat and extended it to me. And to his credit, he looked genuinely distressed.
 

I dabbed at my eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know the cause of it.”

A pained expression touched his features. “My dear lady, this is not the kind of cry I want to elicit from you. Do not feel forced to something you don’t want.”

“I
do
feel forced.” I sniffled into the kerchief. “But not by you. By whatever sin I was born with in my blood. Because I…I want…”

I couldn’t say it, but he didn’t make me. Instead, he grasped hold of my wrist and pinned it to the butcher block table, as if he feared I might take flight. And he wasn’t wrong to fear it. “You want to be wanted. You want to know how much pleasure you can give a man. You want to feel your body as an object of worship and satisfaction. You’re a blossom in a field waiting to be plucked, and these idiotic Scotsmen have somehow trampled right past you. You want to be a woman now, don’t you?”

I nodded, quite incapable of speech. Feeling as if he had somehow reached into my heart and plucked upon every raw nerve.

“Well, then,” he said, tracing my lower lip with his thumb. “I think I can remedy this for you. But first, I must know the truth. Is it me that you want, or just any man?”

My eyes widened at that question, because I had no idea how to answer it. I knew what I
should
say—what he wanted to hear. But all I could do was sob out a little, “I don’t know.”

And to my surprise he said, “How refreshingly honest…I can see that we’ll get on together very well, you and I. It’s quite alright that you don’t know.” With a slight glance over his shoulder at the open door, where we could see some of his men enjoying a meal, he added, “I’m certain we will get to the bottom of it, one way or another. But in the meantime, I’d like to know if you will consent to become my—”

“Yes,” I whispered, before he could even finish the question.

~~~

It must’ve been the eagerness of my agreement that drove his passion. My reckless surrender. I know now that it was like the scent of blood to a predator. Whereas he’d been quite the gentleman a moment before, extending to me a cloth to dry my eyes, all traces of civility quickly fell away.
 

He’d said that if I consented to be his mistress, he’d take me on the spot, and he obviously meant to be good to his word. I’d thought he might take me to his bedroom. That he might even carry me there. Instead, he swept the clean pot and a parcel of herbs from the butcher block table, then pressed me down onto it, his mouth crushing mine in a kiss.

It happened so swiftly, the air whooshed from my lungs and left me gasping.
 

Knowing his soldiers were just a room away, I pressed my palms to the flat of his chest, but he was already working at the laces of his breeches with one hand, and tugging up my skirt with the other.

 
“
Oh, God
,” I cried, wondering what I’d done. What I’d unleashed. Did he really intend to take my maidenhead, here, in my kitchen, in such a mad rush?
 

I had never thought for my first time to be this way!

And yet, truth be told, my body was every bit as frenzied for him as he was for me. Sexual need is a prisoner we keep caged, and the moment it sees an opening to escape, it does. It
runs
, because otherwise it might never get free.
 

So even though I was straining to push him off me, my thighs also parted for him and my teeth eagerly nibbled upon his hot lips—experimenting and delighting in the differences.

We broke apart from the kiss only long enough for him to maul my breasts, and draw my hands down to feel him bare.
Oh!
The weight of his erect shaft in my hand was a thing of delirious mystery. I wanted to touch it, and stroke it, and study it, but there seemed to be no time. What Major Anderson needed was too urgent.
 

“Put my cock at your entrance,” he said, staring hard into my eyes, his own cheeks flushed, his pulse thumping on the underside of his sex organ.

“Yes,” I whispered. “Take me upstairs. I want to feel you inside me.”

“You will. Right here. Put my cock where it belongs.”

Every time he said the vulgar word, I throbbed anew with lust for him. But some part of me still protested, “But your men will see!”

“Yes. That is my intention. Now don’t make me tell you a third time or there will be an unpleasant consequence.”

His
intention
? My eyes widened. What kind of devil was I giving myself to?
 

I didn’t know. And clearly I’d lost my wits, because I didn’t care.
 

With another little sob, I squirmed a bit from my perch at the edge of the butcher block table and drew him between my legs. The velvet heat of him touched the wetness of my slit and I hissed from the pleasure of it. I should be ashamed of myself! Truly, I think I was ashamed. But it somehow didn’t matter.

I just wanted him.

And I got him.

All of him. In one hard, rough, intent thrust.

I screamed. And not with pleasure. The invading force and swell of his hard tool as it opened my virgin passage was a hot, searing pain. A tearing. I screamed again, this time to stop him in earnest, but he kissed me hard, smothering my protests.

He didn’t move inside me. He held still, just pressed himself inside my tightness as if to make me feel very ridge and pulsing vein. His groin pressed to mine, our wiry hairs tangled together beneath my bunched up skirts and his opened breeches. We were
joined
and he wanted me to know it. This English officer had taken me. He’d made me his. He’d claimed me. And in spite of all the pain, I felt taken. I felt claimed.

He’d done it as if he knew how to do it. As if he’d taken virgins before.

And while I sensed that it gave him pleasure—he never closed his eyes or looked away. Instead, he stared down at me with a feverish intensity. With one hand, he brushed away the tears of pain that coursed down my cheek, then whispered, “I mentioned that it would be a bit of a nuisance, my dear. You’re sore, and likely bleeding, which means the only way this can be pleasant for you is if you give in to the utter baseness of it.”

He put my arms around his shoulders, and I clung to him as he began to thrust inside me. I was wet for him, which made him slide easily. But I was very tight and it seemed possible that he’d split me apart with his cock.
 

That’s why, trembling with agony, I forced my mind to concentrate on the baseness of it, just as he advised. I was a Scotswoman being swived in her father’s kitchen by an English officer…whose men looked on.
 

I don’t know when they noticed what was happening in the kitchen. Perhaps it was when I first screamed. But as Major Anderson pumped himself between my splayed thighs, forcing the table to slide slightly with each stroke, a cheer of encouragement went up from the room beyond.

Dear God
, it wasn’t enough that I was now this man’s whore—but they all knew it. And it was so much more shameful than I thought it might be! The hoots of the soldiers, the vulgar things they shouted, made my cheeks flame.

But it also eased the pain between my legs, and…caused a sensation that made me moan. My grip tightened on the Major’s shoulders, and my knees gripped harder around his waist. “Very good,” he said, encouragingly, a bead of sweat on his upper lip as he worked over me. “You must let the arousal outpace the pain.”

He began to press against me in a grinding way. A way that pressed his pubic bone to mine, mashing the little spot I would have liked to stroke. But this was different, and better, in every way.
 

Oh, oh, oh, it wasn’t possible that I could reach climax this way, was it? Just from…

“You like getting fucked, don’t you?” the Major asked, yanking my head back by the hair so he could see my face while he pounded into me.

“Oh, God,” was all I said, my eyes fluttering closed at way his cock seemed to press in all the right places on the upstroke, as if driving me toward completion. I wanted to touch him. Undress him. Run my fingers under his shirt and feel his skin, but first…

“You’re going to come for me,” Major Anderson said, panting a bit as he put his back into fucking me harder. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes!” I screamed.

Then I screamed it ten more times as the orgasm exploded through me, setting off burst after burst through my womb, my belly, my breasts…

So caught up was I in the overwhelming feeling of my body convulsing around his cock, as if it were the whole purpose of my existence, I was almost deaf to the cheers of the soldiers now crowded in the doorway to watch. Not deaf at all, however, to the grunts that came from my lover as he spasmed and jerked his seed deep into me.

He held me down hard by the waist, then pressed me back to the butcher block as if he was afraid I might get up and run—or was determined to make me a receptacle for every last drop.
 

The warmth of his seed was both soothing to the pain between my legs, but also, a terrifying reminder of what I’d just done. What I’d risked. I knew a child could come of this. I knew it. But he knew it too. Perhaps that’s why he said, “Now then, who else would like a turn with her?”

~~~

“No!” I cried, though I was throbbing with my lingering climax. Tears flooded my eyes. “This wasn’t what I agreed—”

“This is exactly what you agreed to,” Major Anderson said, without the slightest bit of contempt or hostility in his voice. Only firmness. “I told you that I’d ask you to perform certain acts for me and that I’d expect your obedience. This is our first test of that. Besides, it’s for your own good.”

“
My
good?” I shouted, beating on his chest, trying to make him let me up.

“Of course,” he replied, easily pinning me down. If he was panting, it was only because he had just finished fucking me. Not because it took much effort to restrain me under his steely arms. “I asked you if it was me you wanted or just any man. You said you didn’t know. I said that we’d get to the bottom of it. So we shall. Trust me when I say that it’ll be better for you to be overwhelmed with new sensation than to feel the soreness that comes of having lost your virginity. Besides…you liked it that my men were watching you. That they want you. I felt you get wetter every time you heard them cheer.”

“No!” I cried, in denial, but it was true. And at the sight of them, all of them, feasting hungry eyes on my body, I felt renewed hunger that I wouldn’t thought myself capable of.

I didn’t really know these men, and what I knew of them, I didn’t like. They were English soldiers. Some of them officers, but most of them not. They were all shaved, and one had his back against the wall, his eye wide with something that might have been fascinated fright, but the rest were rough looking fellows. And I was afraid to be touched by any of them, much less all of them.

So why did that make me want them more?

“What’s your given name?” Major Anderson asked me, withdrawing from my body, then softly stroking between my legs, as if to gentle a spooked stallion. I was wet and sticky, both with my own desire and his flood of seed. And I was fascinated by the feel of him trailing it down my thigh.

Then I realized the question he’d just asked me and was overcome with shame!
Christ
, he didn’t know my name. He’d taken my maidenhead in a wicked and sinful manner, made cheaper and more tawdry by the fact that he didn’t know my name nor did he need to know it.
 

“Sorcha,” I whispered, tears on my lashes from the humiliation.

“Well now, my dear Sorcha. I’d like you to service my men. As many as you’re able. And if I have gauged you correctly, you will do me proud by taking them all. But why don’t you choose two to start with?”

If I’d been humiliated before, I was twice as much now. How could I choose? I couldn’t. I shook my head, not even daring to look at these men. “Choose for me,” I said, turning my head in a way that he must have known was surrender.

I closed my eyes, not wanting to know which man would have me next.
 

But Major Anderson seemed intent upon an improper introduction. “Spread your thighs wide for Captain Howard, my dear and give him a little kiss.”

Captain Howard stepped forward with a wide and lusty grin. When he bent forward for a kiss, he tasted of grog and his chin was a bit stubbly. But when I spread my thighs for him, I was rewarded not with pain, but with a surprising pleasure as he slipped the dripping purple head of his cock over my slit in such a way as to make me moan.
 

Another surprise was that my reaction delighted the Major, who squeezed my hand. It also encouraged the men, who all began to chant encouragements to the captain. “Give it to her hard, Captain Howard. The curvy wench can obviously take it.”

“Get the dress off her, I want to see her tits when you fuck her.”

These and a hundred other things were shouted as the men crowded into the small kitchen to watch. Leaning over me, one hand upon my waist, the other upon the table, the captain nudged his thick member against my opening.
 

No, no, no,
I thought with a shake of my head
.
This couldn’t be happening. I couldn’t be allowing it. It wasn’t enough sin that I’d given my maidenhead to a man who wasn’t my husband. Wasn’t wicked enough that I did it while English soldiers stood around and cheered. No. I was to take another lover. And not in a year, or a month, or even a day…but within moments.