My Savage Laird – Sexy Scottish Read Online M.K. Moore

Categories Genre: Alpha Male Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 10
Estimated words: 8504 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 43(@200wpm)___ 34(@250wpm)___ 28(@300wpm)
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I was wholly unprepared for the day that disease came to our lands. I had ne’er seen anything so terrible in all my days. First, it affected the villagers and merchants. Then it moved into Cadleigh Keep, my home. Servants were dying all around us; our parents were sick. Only Islay and I were not affected by whatever this plague was. My sister did everything she could think of with her medicants, but naething worked. Everyone died. Everyone but Islay and I that is. Villagers thought we were witches bringing this down upon them, but we arenae —at least, I doona think we are. For months, it was just Islay and I. It was too much work for the two of us to handle the upkeep of our home, ne’er having done that, but we downgraded and learned.

We learned how to cook and clean. For me, I learned how to be humble. I wept like a child when Islay said she felt she had to go to the Stewart. She felt that we needed to honor our father’s agreement, and if didnae do it, she would. I didnae really think she would do it, but she left on foot, and I havenae seen her in the weeks since. Being alone with yer own thoughts for this long isnae something I would wish on my worst enemy, not that I have any. I was alone for the first time in my life, and I took advantage of that. I stopped dressing. The freedom I felt the first time I went starkers cannae be repeated. Remembering music from the many feasts I’ve been to over the years, I started dancing about my room. It was probably a bit insane, but there was no one there to see me until him. The relief I felt when I saw him inside my room was immense. The unfamiliar feeling of fire and what I assume is desire swept through my body and woke up parts of me that I didnae ken I had.

I doona ken who this man thinks he is, but He is kissing me in a way that stakes a claim. One that cannae be refused. Not that I would or could. As soon as I saw him, I thought something was wrong with my body. I have ne’er reacted like this before. My breasts feel heavy, and the space betwixt my thighs is suddenly alive. I doona ken why all I want to do is touch myself to alleviate the pressure that has suddenly built up.

When his lips move down my neck, a moan escapes me. I have ne’er made a sound like that before. I lose my mind when he pulls one of my nipples into his mouth.

“Culloden, please,” I beg him, but I doona ken what for. All I ken is that I want more. No, I need more.

“I’ve got ye, love,” he murmurs, and for some reason, I believe that he does. I donna ken him from Adam, but I do believe He is mine. I canna explain it; I am not sure I want to, but he is mine, just as I ken that I am his.

Then his fingers trail down my belly, and he parts my folds, gliding his fingers through my sudden wetness. I donna even have time to be embarrassed before he shallowly pushes that finger inside me.

“I doona ken what is happening to me,” I whisper as he pulls his finger from my body and brings it to his mouth, sucking on it. “I…” I begin, but he silences me with a finger —that finger —on my lips. Something new goes off inside of me as I feel my eyes widen.

“Do ye trust me, lass? He asks, and I nod. “Good lass.” What is he doing to me? My insides turn to liquid at words of praise, and I am his for the commanding and the taking.

“Despite my wanton behavior, I really have ne’er done this before,” I tell him. My hands reach for him. His tunic is in my way. I want to see him and touch him as He is touched me.

“Neither have I, leannan.” His voice is huskier than it was a moment ago. Despite being a man and a war chief, I have no doubt he is telling me the truth. Deep down in my bones, I ken he wouldnae lie to me. I also doona have to be jealous of his previous women. I ne’er kenned that would be important to me, but it is.

Boldly, I reach for the tie at the front of his tunic and pull it open. Trailing my fingers down his torso, I pull it from his kilt and over his head. He is covered in scars of varying depths and thickness. There are some that are stark white and fully healed, while others are still angry and puckered. Leaning forward, I place kisses on them. He growls and pulls me backward by my hair.


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