Naked Vows

Rowena sat back on her heels in the secluded glade, surrounded by dense bushes and tall trees. The woods provided a natural wall, hiding her from anyone who might wander by. She looked at her basket of herbs, her mind still chewing on the strange dynamic between her husband and his brothers. Lorne had once explained his philosophy with a simple shrug. If he bought something at the market and a brother remarked on it, he gifted it to them. When Alasdair found a favorite horse, and Stellan expressed interest, it belonged to him just as much. If Stellan cared for a particular blade, Lorne received a similar one. There was no possession they would not hand over if a brother wanted it. She asked Lorne about it after he gave his prized hunting dog away. Lorne just pulled her close and told her they shared everything. They always had, and they always would.

The memory of his rough voice sent a sudden shiver through her. A heavy warmth settled low in her belly. Sitting alone in the quiet woods, her breath grew shallow. She glanced around the clearing. No one was here. The sheer isolation fueled the pulse beating between her legs. She untied the strings of her bodice and loosened her stays to let the cool air hit her skin. Reaching down, she gathered her wool skirts and pulled them up, baring her thighs. She slipped one hand down to part her soft folds, feeling the slick wetness gathered there. Her other hand crept up to cup her breast, her thumb rubbing a hard nipple through the linen chemise.

She closed her eyes, panting softly as her fingers slid into her wet pussy. She stroked her clitoris, her mind flooded with Lorne. The thought of his large hands squeezing her breasts, or his stiff cock plunging deep inside her, made her rock her hips. She dragged her fingers through her slick juices, shuddering as she remembered how he turned every moment into raw physical pleasure.

Her wet fingers slid in and out of her opening, pulling her back to her wedding night. She had come to her marriage bed a terrified virgin. The village women had warned her about the tearing pain of surrendering her maidenhood. She remembered Lorne leading her up the stairs while drunken guests hooted and hollered below. Men shouted lewd jokes about what was going to happen to her, making her face burn. Lorne only laughed, taking their ribald comments with a good-natured grin as he pulled her away.

Inside their bedchamber, a fire crackled in the hearth, throwing warm light across the walls. The heat made her wedding clothes feel suffocating. Lorne stripped off his coat and tossed it over a chair. He walked her to the edge of the four-poster bed, pressing her down to sit on the mattress.

He knelt in front of her. His hands slid up her calves, unlacing her shoes and pulling them off. He rolled her stockings down, his rough palms dragging along her bare thighs. Standing up, he pulled her to her feet. He turned her to face the hearth, the firelight catching her hair.

Slowly, he began to undress her. He unfastened her overdress, letting the heavy fabric pool on the floor. He unlaced her stiff stays and pulled the underdress over her head. Finally, he lifted her thin linen chemise and tossed it aside. She stood bare in the firelight. The glow illuminated her pale breasts and the dark patch of pubic hair between her thighs. Panic seized her. She crossed her arms over her chest and pressed her thighs together, trying to hide her exposed sex.

Lorne wrapped his big hands around her wrists and pulled her arms down to her sides.

"Let me look at you, my beautiful wife," he murmured.

He stepped back, letting his heated eyes travel over her bare skin. She felt her cheeks flare. Her fingers curled into tight fists against her thighs, fighting the urge to cover her pussy. This was the first time she had stood naked before a man, and the bright firelight left no shadows to hide in.

"Nae, lassie," Lorne said, his voice a thick rumble. "You're wonderful. Take no shame in your appearance. You're as god made you, and no finer creation on all the earth has he made. I'd hold to it."

Rowena swallowed hard. She had just turned twenty. She was small, a slender hundred and twenty pounds, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulders. Her breasts sat high on her chest, pert and full. Lorne placed his large hands over her breasts, weighing them in his palms, squeezing the soft flesh. She gasped as his calloused thumbs dragged across her tight nipples, making them pebble under his touch.

His hands slid down her ribs, gripping her narrow waist before smoothing over her hips. He traced the flare of her thighs, feeling the soft skin leading down to the thatch of hair at her cleft. Lorne dropped to his knees. He ran his hands down the back of her legs. As he brought his hands up the front of her thighs, his knuckles brushed lightly against the wet slit of her pussy.

Rowena sucked in a sharp breath and squeezed her eyes shut. Was he going to take her virginity right here? Before they even reached the bed?

Lorne stood up. He hooked a finger under her chin and tilted her face up, forcing her to look at him. The firelight danced over her pale skin and dusted freckles. He stared at her lips, his eyes dark with hunger.

He leaned down, his mouth brushing hers.

"Perhaps you could help me take off my things?" he asked, his tone a low invitation.

Rowena blinked, her hands shaking as she reached for his clothes. She unpinned the shoulder cloak of his tartan and let it fall. She reached for the leather laces of his linen shirt, fumbling with the knots. Once loose, she grabbed the hem and pulled it up over his broad torso. She dragged the shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor.

She had seen men's chests before. Field hands often worked shirtless in the summer, their bodies covered in thick hair. But Lorne had a smooth, muscular chest with a fine dusting of soft hair trailing down his stomach. She felt heat creeping up her neck, a blush staining her cheeks as she wondered what that hair would feel like rubbing against her bare breasts. She lowered her head, too shy to meet his gaze.

Lorne smiled, amused by her modesty and the pink flush on her skin.

"There's still more to go," he murmured.

Rowena’s face burned hotter. He reached out, his knuckles lightly stroking her warm cheek. She took a deep breath, looked down, and reached for the heavy silver pin holding his kilt in place. She tugged the pin free and unraveled the yards of plaid wool wrapping his waist. The heavy fabric dropped to the floor.

He stood naked before her, wearing nothing but his knee-high wool socks and leather shoes.

She took his hand and guided him to the edge of the mattress. He sat down, the bed creaking under his weight. Rowena dropped to her knees on the rug between his spread legs. She reached for his boots, tugging hard to pull them off his feet. As she tossed the shoes aside and grabbed the cuffs of his woolen stockings, her eyes darted upward, stealing a quick glance at his crotch.

She was not ignorant. She had grown up in the country and watched farm animals mate. Her mother had tried to prepare her for this night with an awkward description of male anatomy. But knowing it in theory and seeing a naked man were two different things.

At first glance, his penis rested against a heavy pair of balls, measuring about four inches long. But as she kept her head down, slowly rolling the wool socks down his calves, she noticed a change. Every time her gaze flicked back up, his cock was growing. It was lengthening, expanding with thick blood, pulling away from his balls.

She finished pulling the last stocking off and tossed it onto the pile.

Lorne stood up.

Rowena stayed on her knees, the firelight catching the sweat on her brow. Now, she was at eye level with his groin. The moment of truth.

She stared, breathless. His fully erect penis was massive, far larger than her mother's warnings had prepared her for. It was thick and long, standing straight out from his body. Bulging veins ran up and down the rigid shaft, pulsing with a steady rhythm. The thick muscle twitched and bobbed slightly with every beat of his heart. The foreskin was pulled tight, exposing the swollen head of his cock, glistening in the firelight.

She stayed kneeling on the rug, her eyes locked on his twitching penis, her mind racing with the realization of what was about to happen.