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A Bed of Grass

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"Scoot forward, Sassenach." Jamie sounded distinctly uncomfortable.

"Forward where? There's nowhere to go," I pointed out. We were both mounted astride Donas, and unless I climbed onto his neck, I simply could not.

He made a disgruntled sound and tried to move back, but I kept slipping back against him with Donas's movement. Jamie squirmed and shifted until I asked, "What is it? Is there a problem?"

"You could say that," he grumbled, and I suddenly realized what was going on. We'd been pressed together, back to front, for the long ride to meet Lord Lovat. And unlike previous recent trips, we were alone. I couldn't resist wiggling my bottom against him, and I wished, not for the first time, that eighteenth century women’s clothing was not quite so padded. I couldn't really feel his reaction through my layers of dress and bum roll. Jamie, however, could feel me just fine, or well enough, at any rate. "Stop that!" he whined.

I couldn't help but laugh at his discomfort. "No," I refused, and reached back under his kilt to test my theory. Indeed, he was having just the sort of difficulty I suspected.

"What are you doing?" His voice held just the slightest hint of a squeak as he tried halfheartedly to bat my hand away.

I glanced at him over my shoulder with a little smirk. "Can't you tell? I should think it’s obvious, unless I’m doing it all wrong."

“No, you’re not… It’s just… We’re out in the open, and it’s broad daylight! Anyone could see!” This was true. We rode on a well-traveled road through a flat, treeless field, and while there was no one looking immediately in our direction, we had recently passed a farmer shepherding a flock of sheep, and there was a wagon ahead of us. "I already want to throw you on your back and climb between your thighs as it is, but there's nowhere to do it! Why are ye torturing me so, woman?”

I moved my hand a little and said, “For my own personal entertainment? And yours, for that matter.”

He whimpered a little, and his head tilted forward into my hair. “Is that what ye call this? Entertainment?” His hand shifted from trying to push me away to under my shawl, clutching at my breast through my dress.

“There’s not much else to do right now, and I know you don’t actually mind.” He didn’t argue, and I counted it as a victory. As I found a good rhythm, I noticed that Jamie’s breathing changed, so I experimented a little bit, listening to the sounds he made when I did different things.

“Ah, do you like that?”

“You know I do,” he choked out.

I shifted a bit and asked, more for my edification than anything else, “How about that?”

He replied only, “Ohhhh...”

I took this to mean that he did, and continued. Eventually I mused, “Mmm. Kilts are wonderful garments, aren’t they?” while I changed my grip. “So convenient.”

“C-convenient,” he said distractedly. I was quite certain he had no idea what he’d just parroted back to me. I felt one hand tighten on me and I glanced at the other. He was gripping the reins so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. When I added a particular twist of my wrist, he spasmed slightly, spurring the horse to lurch to the side. “ Ifrinn! ” He had to grab me tightly to keep me from toppling over the side.

After we’d righted ourselves, I tried to resume, but he pinned my arms at my sides. “Enough of that, now.”

“Really? I wasn’t finished, and I know you weren’t either,” I answered, amused with myself.

“Not here,” he said in a clipped voice. “We have to find a place.”

But there was nothing immediately near, not a single tree to provide shade, nor any bush large enough to hide us. Jamie clicked his tongue to spur Donas onward, aiming for a ridge in the distance.

After a moment, he instructed me, “Take the reins.”

When I did, he turned the tables on me. One arm secured me around the waist, and the other started to ruck up my skirts. Then I felt his thumb along the edge of my stocking. “Jamie?”

“Now it’s my turn, lass,” he murmured in my ear. “You're no’ the only one gets to have fun, aye?”

I twisted far enough for a rather delicious kiss. “I think I'll still enjoy myself.”

He pulled me back against him and said softly, “I'll make sure of it.” His fingers inched higher, and then he fulfilled his promise.

Some time later, he asked me, “How is it that your skin is so much softer than silk?”

It was a good thing he didn’t require an answer, because he had driven all thought from my brain. Now it was my turn to grip the reins like my life depended on it. I didn't pull on them, though, as I didn't have the wherewithal to do so, but simply let Donas carry us where he would.

All the while, Jamie narrowed my world down to the tip of one finger. Our position was a bit limiting, of course, but Jamie was nothing if not creative, not to mention dedicated. And over the course of our marriage, he had come to know my body better than I did. His touch alternated between light and firm, teasing and purposeful, delicate and deliberate. He made me forget where we were and what we were doing, and that was before he loosened the shawl around my shoulders, pulled free the cloth tucked into my bodice, and slid his hand to my breast. The fit was tight, as there was no real way to undress me, but he wasn’t trying to be gentle, and I surely didn’t mind.

Soon I fell back against him, too distracted by his actions to support myself. He hummed something in Gaelic softly in my ear. I didn’t understand the words, but the tone was clear, and the sensation of his teeth lightly sinking into my earlobe too much. “Jamie!” And then I was quaking in his arms.

The climax only left me wanting more.

Jamie was even more desperate than I, having had no release. He dug his heels into Donas’s sides, and we nearly flew over the edge of the ridge. Now he made no effort to separate us, but actually did the opposite. He held me tightly round the waist and ground into me, increasing the friction between our bodies.

Donas came to a halt next to a small, calm pool. It had formed in a natural valley hollowed out of the peak, and was surrounded on all sides by gently sloping, grassy walls. It was secluded and therefore perfect. Jamie practically dragged me off the horse, who trotted away to drink. My husband was desperate to slake his own thirst as well, and I didn’t even have a chance to spread my shawl on the ground between the tall teasel plants that dotted the area before he was kneeling and pulling me down with him.

Just as he’d said, he had me on my back and knelt between my thighs before I quite knew how to arrange myself on the ground. Thick grass formed a soft bed beneath me, which was just as well, as I didn’t think Jamie could stop if he tried. He barely managed to push my skirts round my waist before he lifted me by my buttocks and arrowed into me in one sharp movement. He let out a great cry at the contact, drawing my attention from the sudden heat filling my body, and I watched him toss his head back as he opened his mouth to gulp great lungfuls of air. His arms shook and his fingers tightened into my skin as he held still, relishing the sensation of our joining.

When his eyes finally popped open, I saw fire in them. This was not the gentle, sweet soul that had so recently held his infant niece like a precious piece of glass. This was the basic core of a man, a man who would take what belonged to him.

He fell upon me, shoving me into the ground with pistoning hips and his chest heavy against mine. His movements were rough and uncontrolled, his rhythm staccato and swift. I felt his breath hot against my neck as he groaned in Gaelic, his words sinking into my skin. He pulled back just enough so that I could see a frown of concentration marring his brow. He worked a hand between us to tug ineffectually at my laces, and he repeated the same words, which I still didn’t understand. He shook his head to clear it and switched to English. “Open,” was all he could manage. Then he sat back on his heels once more to allow me room to maneuver, but he didn’t break pace.

All I wanted to do was give myself over to the pleasurable oblivion his body offered mine, but I managed to loosen my laces and open my bodice. He snarled in frustration when he realized my stays were still in place underneath. There was no way to undress, not like this, not when he wasn’t willing to pause for even a moment, but he managed to work his hands under my back and pull free the knot holding them together, then yanked the stays and shift down to free my breasts to the cold air.

His hips stilled as he curled over me, devouring. The dry grass beneath me scraped the newly bared skin of my upper back, but I hardly noticed it, overwhelmed as I was by the delicious dragging of his teeth, firm laving of his tongue, and pull of his lips.

I tried to reach for him but discovered I was well and truly trapped. The shoulders of my stays were down around my upper arms, strapping them tight against my body. Jamie’s arms were wedged under me, his hands tightly gripping my buttocks to keep me where he wanted me, tight around his sex. I wanted to return his embrace, to hold him, but my hands were lost amongst the layers of skirts shoved between us. All I could do was call out his name.

He answered the call with a deep, guttural sound from his throat and began to move once more. This time there was no pausing, no hesitation, no turning back. He buried his face in my neck and slammed into me, hard, deep, and slow. Then he began to punctuate each thrust with a little grind of his pelvis, and that sent me over the edge. I lost myself to the sensation, to my husband, to my love. At my reaction, he jerked and bucked against me with a harsh cry, and he gave himself fully over to me.

After, Jamie rested his cheek on my bared shoulder and sighed in contentment. I watched the clouds pass above us and saw a hawk circle high in the sky. I tried to reach for him but was still caught by his heavy weight and my disarrayed clothing, and he chuckled at my efforts before finally helping me. But instead of pulling the stays up, he slipped the garment down farther and tugged free my arms.

“I think that’s the wrong way, Jamie,” I chuckled.

He pressed his lips to my breast. “No it’s not.”

I dragged my fingers through his hair, then realized that my own must be a mess of tangles, grass, and teasel heads. “I must look frightful.”

He pulled back far enough to look me in the eye, and with a blissful grin, said, “You’re beautiful. When I’m inside ye, Sassenach, I never want to leave ye. I want to burrow only deeper and deeper until I’m surrounded entirely. And since I canna do that, I want to stay within ye for as long as I can, to feel your body hold mine. But I canna hold still. I canna make it last. I want it to last forever, but it can't find a way.”

He stretched up to kiss me deeply, and when he paused to breathe, I whispered, “Then it’s a good thing we don’t get just one try.”

I felt his laugh more than I heard it, both in the vibrations of his chest and in the way his lips stretched wide against mine. “Again, then?”

“Again.”