Page 26 of Scandalous Passions

“Yes,” he echoed hesitantly. “How?”

Lady Janet caressed his chest. “I can teach my ward how to kiss, about the pleasures found in her own body. Alas, though, I cannot show her how to handle her future husband’s cock. How to kiss it. Suck it. Coax it to release seed. But you could, with my support.”

A dark thrill shot through him, and he barely suppressed a moan. How often had he dreamed of the woman he loved teasing him, ruthlessly using him for her own enjoyment? If he agreed, not only would he please his lover, he would be serving sweet Lady Marjorie as well. Two women—one he loved, one he unwillingly had tender feelings for—touching him. Instructing him.

Pleasuring him.

“Very well,” he said gruffly.

Marjorie clapped her hands together, the movement lifting her bared breast higher. “You will? Oh, thank you! I am so eager to learn. I know I’ve only a short time to learn a lifetime’s worth of knowledge before the king yanks…er, before I must leave…”

“Do not think of that, dear one,” said Lady Janet. “Think of today. Think of now. We must begin without delay. Sir Lachlan, if you would remove your clothing and place your hands atop your head.”

He’d never undressed faster in his life, and soon his doublet, shirt, shoes, stockings, and hose sat in a pile on the solar floor. The afternoon sun was sensually warm on his naked flesh, and he arched his back a little as he placed his hands on his head as instructed. He just hoped Lady Marjorie wasn’t a swooning virgin, as much like the rest of him, his cock was large, and it was already thickening and lengthening.

“So many scars,” said Lady Marjorie, biting her lip. “That fresh one…”

Before he could lower his arms and cover himself, Lady Janet placed a hand on the small of his back and rubbed in small circles. “Indeed. Each one a mark of courage, of bravery in service to the king. And the last in service to us. Each one is to be admired. Also to be admired is his exceedingly impressive cock. Take a cushion and kneel at his feet, Marjorie. Sir Lachlan has graciously allowed you to practice on him, but he may call a halt at any time. If he does so and you do not stop at once, my dear, it will be the last lesson you have. Understood?”

“Yes,” said Lady Marjorie softly as she gazed up at him with wide eyes. “May I touch you, Sir Lachlan?”

God’s blood, she aroused him—the curiosity, the innocence in that blue gaze, yet with kiss-swollen lips and that pretty pink nipple exposed to his avid stare. “Just Lachlan. Aye.”

Very, very tentatively she reached up and brushed her fingers along his length. At the heady contrast of her cool, smooth skin, his cock jerked against his stomach, and the young woman reared back in alarm.

“Such a rampant cock!” said Lady Janet, her amusement plain. “You must take it in hand, dear one. Be firm. Show that you are in command. By the by, it is highly unlikely your future husband’s manhood will be this large, so if you can master this one, you can master anything.”

Lady Marjorie nodded, a rather endearing expression of determination settling on her beautiful face. This time she wrapped her fingers around his cock and squeezed gently as she leaned in to inspect the full length of him, the coarse black hair surrounding it, his heavy balls dangling underneath. Inexpertly stroking, massaging, her touch becoming more sure as she grew in confidence. Lachlan closed his eyes and began to count backward. With both women touching him, this might well be the shortest lesson in history.

“What did you say, Lachlan?” asked Lady Marjorie.

His eyes flew open. “Uh…”

Lady Janet laughed. “He is counting in Gaelic. Which means you are doing wonderfully. Now you have learned his length and girth, you might learn his taste.”

Lachlan’s breath caught. He would not survive this.

But what a fine, fine path to his demise.

Chapter Seven

“How are you enjoying yourself, my Beast?”

Lachlan tried to answer Lady Janet’s query, but in truth he could scarcely form words. The illusion of restraint in having his hands atop his head, the sun warming his naked body, Lady Marjorie kneeling at his feet and eagerly teasing his engorged cock and balls, Lady Janet behind him, murmuring soothing words, her soft hand caressing his back in gratitude at his participation in her lesson…

Paradise.

As a young lad he’d seen the success of a dominant woman and submissive man as lovers, though his parents hadn’t been wed. Deciding then he wanted that for himself, he’d been disappointed time and time again by women who expected him to demand, to enforce, to take in the bedchamber as he did on the battlefield. They’d never cared enough to ask or even tried to see into his soul and discover his true desires.

Until Lady Janet, in the Stirling Castle hallway. Again by the campfire at Loch Leven, in his bedchamber here at St. Andrews. And now in this sun-drenched sanctuary, at her command, he had not one but two women pleasuring him.

A truly great time to be alive.

He grunted. All the speech he could manage.

Lady Janet laughed and trailed her fingertips down to the small of his back. “I believe that was an answer of sorts. Now, Marjorie dear, kiss his cock. Take the tip in your mouth and give it a little lick. Ah, yes, clever lass. That’s the way…”

He gasped, his hands tightening on his head as Lady Marjorie’s little pink tongue flicked back and forth across the sensitive head of his cock. “God’s blood…”