Page 8 of Her Magnificent Mistake (Surprised Heirs #1)

CHAPTER 7

H awk’s heart was slamming against his ribs as the pair of them tumbled into the cottage. Somewhere along the way he’d dropped his hat and the picnic basket—but to be fair, Marcia’s hat had also come loose and lost in their frantic clutching and groping and that kiss in front of the cottage atop the burn.

Dear God, that kiss.

A week ago, he’d come close to claiming her in the gazebo. That was the moment he realized that the time which had passed had no effect on his feelings for her. Not just his love—he’d known that—but his desire.

He would always desire her.

He’d been strong enough to pull away then, knowing there was no future for them.

He’d been strong enough…well, not to stop touching himself, but to prevent himself from marching into her guest bedroom and demanding she take all her clothes off.

Today, though? Now?

She loved him still .

She’d never stopped loving him.

She’d never abandoned their relationship because he was unworthy, she’d never run off to marry a man because her brother had touted his virtues. Bull had suggested Hawk as a suitor, and Marcia had agreed!

And she loved him! That, more than anything, made his cock throb in need.

“Hawk,” his woman gasped, arms around his neck, kissing his jaw, his lips, grinding her pelvis against his hardness, it was a wonder she had enough breath to speak. “God, yes , Hawk!”

With a groan of surrender, he kicked the door closed and fell against it, pulling her with him.

Marcia wore a light jacket over her cream blouse, with a wide belt and a skirt full enough to hike up the burn. It was a perfectly respectable, if informal, costume. Right now, though, all he could focus on was how much he wanted it gone .

As if she could read his thoughts, Marcia dropped her arms from his neck—without breaking the kiss—and shrugged her jacket off. It was a move full of wriggling and huffing, of breasts heaving against him and all thoughts leaving his mind, and when he peeled the garment from her shoulders and tossed it aside, she groaned in approval and snaked her arms around his sides to pull him closer to her.

With the door at his back, Hawk dragged his palms across every inch of her he could reach. Across her shoulders, down her arms, around to her arse to squeeze it. She gave a needy little whimper and ground her hips against him, cupping his hardness with her warmth.

And Christ, was he hard. It was as if finding out she still loved him was almost all that was necessary to make him come. They weren’t even naked yet, and he was in very real danger of soiling his drawers.

With that thought, he bent over her, kissing down her throat, as he went to work on the buttons on her blouse.

More nakedness, yes, that would help.

It wasn’t until she moaned and arched against him that he realized what he could feel, and why he could feel it—and froze. “Marcia.” He was all but panting for her now. “Ye’re no’ wearing a corset?”

Batting his hands away impatiently, she allowed her fingers to fly down her buttons. “I only brought my good corsets—I was trying to look sophisticated, seductive, remember? I thought that was what you wanted.” She smiled shyly at him as she tugged open her blouse. “I did not think to bring my sports corset, and I hardly wanted to hike Pook’s Glen in tight bindings.”

“Bless ye,” he groaned, reaching unbidden for her tits. As his hands closed around them they both groaned again, Marcia’s head dropping back in bliss.

Through the light cotton of her chemise her nipples tightened, and he brushed them roughly with his callused thumbs.

He was suddenly desperate to taste them.

Still holding her, he twisted them both, until Marcia was the one pinned to the door by him. In ten years he hadn’t forgotten what she liked—how could he?—and thank Christ she liked it as rough as he did.

Lady Marcia Calderbank was the only woman who could match his coarse tendencies in the bedroom. He liked to dominate, to pound, to possess, and she met him toe-to-toe, taking everything he could give and more.

Now Hawk used his strength to his advantage, lifting her by the waist and thrusting his hips forward, pinning her to the door with them so his hands would be free to caress, to squeeze.

Since she was now dangling from the door, her tits were closer to his mouth—and he wasted no time. He bent forward and captured one in his mouth, quickly soaking the cotton of her chemise and teasing her nipple.

With a thrumming whimper Marcia struggled to kick free of her skirts, then lifted her legs to wrap around his hips. This meant his cock, already throbbing against his trousers, was nestled right where it wanted to be.

Aye, there were quite a few layers of material between them, thanks to her petticoats, but right now, his cock didn’t mind. God, this felt good.

Unconsciously he flexed his hips, thrusting upward against her warmth, and she matched him with a welcoming moan.

Her fingers dug into his hair, holding his mouth against her, even as he switched to the other tit. Her chemise was soaked through now, becoming wonderfully transparent, and he scraped his teeth over her nipple once, twice, causing her to buck and moan.

And Marcia wasn’t a passive participant, och nay . She ground her cunny against him, her breaths coming in desperate little gasps. One of his hands reached beneath her thigh, holding her arse up…his fingers creeping closer and closer to that sweet warmth, despite the cotton between them.

He groaned against her tit, his cock desperate for release as she rode him. One thrust, then another, had her gasping his name. It was the sweetest sound he had ever heard.

“H-Hawk…oh Hawk…”

She gyrated, she rocked, she groaned, and only then did he realize how close she was to release. How incredible, for her to reach a climax so quickly with him! How incredible, that he could still make her feel this way!

And that’s when Hawk realized just how close he was. Because aye, Marcia was incredible, and his cock hadn’t forgotten the feel of her body against his, and the friction and the movement and the heat and her whimpers?—

“Hawk,” she moaned, eyes closed, head tipped back against the wood of the door. “My Hawk.”

The words reached down his throat and squeezed his heart in a way he hadn’t thought possible. He thrust against her again, breathless, as she tightened her ankles around him.

Time to end this.

He plucked her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and rolled it, and she released a keening sort of wail and went stiff against him.

He couldn’t feel her cunny spasming. He couldn’t taste the rush of liquid desire he knew just flooded her core…but he knew Marcia was coming apart in his arms, both of them still mostly clothed, up against the door.

And why was that so incredibly erotic?

Hawk held himself still, determined to maintain control, as she came against his cock.

As her little jolts quieted Marcia opened her eyes, caught his head between her palms, and pulled him to her, claiming his lips possessively with hers. It was confident. It was arousing.

It was all too much.

With a muffled groan, Hawk spilled in his drawers.

In that moment, it was as necessary as breathing. More so, even. With his lips on Marcia’s, he didn’t care where his next breath came from, but the bliss flowing through his veins was worth everything in the world. His body roared and it was sheer luck he could keep her upright as the climax shot through him, a bullet no shield could ever halt.

When the shock cleared, Hawk groaned and dropped his forehead to hers. “Fooook.”

Chuckling slightly, Marcia wriggled against him, sending all sorts of conflicting sensations through him. He was sticky and sated and far too damned sensitive.

“I thought it was remarkable. What is wrong?”

Without opening his eyes, he confessed, “It’s likely been twenty years since I last soiled my drawers like that.”

This time her laughter was far stronger, and Hawk retaliated by shifting backward. No longer pinned to the door by his hips, she slid down until she was leaning against him, her fingers still twined through his hair.

“Well then,” she announced, grinning up at him. “We ought to get you out of them and wash up. All your clothes, immediately. I…um, need to check every inch of your clothing for specks of dirt. If you can get a fire going, I will heat some water.”

Hawk’s eyes narrowed. “Dinnae think I’ve forgotten that ye spilled in yer drawers as well.”

“Yes, very good point.” Her eyes twinkled. “I suppose I should take all my clothing off as well.”

There was a very strong possibility this was just an excuse to get them both naked, but as long as she was joining him, he’d strip down. The cottage was private and cozy, and they had all afternoon…

M arcia would have never guessed how fun a naked picnic could be.

As Hawk started the fire in the grate, she found a bucket hanging from a hook outside the cottage. The building sat in a little clearing—obviously manmade—surrounded by tall fir trees and the one gnarled oak. A cliff ran around two edges of the clearing, dropping about thirty feet down to the boulders around the spring which started the burn.

She carefully picked her way back down the steps carved into the cliff, her legs still a little shaky from her orgasm. It had felt so forbidden, and oh-so-very good, to thrust against Hawk’s hardness like that. Knowing how aroused he was, knowing how he felt about her, feeling his strength wrapped around her, taking what pleasure she wanted and feeling him worship her…it had been awe-inspiring.

His strength had always been one of her favorite things about their love making. The way he used it, the way he lifted her as if she weighed nothing. The way he could pin her down and cover her with his body, making her feel safe and protected. The way he took his pleasure even as she squealed and squirmed, relishing every second of it. The way he could fook her against a wall or some other ridiculous position, just because he was that good .

Now that I think of it, his tongue was quite lovely too . And his fingers. The man was full of talent.

They heated the water, then removed the rest of their clothing with much teasing and laughter. Hawk had spilled in his drawers, which was incredibly flattering, and she told him so. Directly. Looking him in the eye. Enjoying the flush—the flush!—in his cheeks.

By the time they pulled apart, her blood was heated and she was ready to ask him to take her, hard.

But this needed to be slower.

It had been ten years. That first time, the desperate thrusting against the door, that had been enough to take the edge off their need.

Now they needed to make sure they did it right.

This meant caresses and gentle kisses, and feeding one another the cheeses and bread Hawk found in the picnic basket. He’d spread a blanket from the bed in front of the hearth, and they lounged there as they ate, comfortable in their nudity…though Marcia had to try not to continuously stare.

He was cutting slices of apple for her, using the scarred pad of his thumb to brace the blade, when she caught the speculative gleam in his eyes as his gaze stroked her.

Suddenly self-conscious, Marcia crossed one arm over her breast to take the fruit from him, despite her hunger being satiated. “I have changed.”

“What?”

She shook her head slightly, trying to make light of the topic. “The last time we were together, I was in my early twenties.”

His brow rose. “And now ye think ye’re…what? Auld and decrepit?”

His tone made her lips twitch. She knew she was still strong and agile. Her body had done amazing things in the last decade, but it had changed. As she chewed, she ran her palm down her side.

His gaze followed it. Inch for inch.

Finally, she shrugged. “My breasts are no longer so pert. My hips are wider. My stomach?—”

“Stop,” Hawk growled, rolling to his feet. Her gaze followed him, and when he offered his hand, she placed hers in it without hesitation.

Hawk tugged her to her feet, then moved her to the center of the room. Standing there, completely nude, with the sound of the burn below them and the summer breeze through the open windows competing with the warmth from the small fire, caused her to shiver in anticipation.

What was all this about?

Hawk dropped her hand and stepped back. Instead of meeting her eyes, he made a show of looking at her body, examining her. He stepped around her, humming thoughtfully, as if she were a work of art and he a judgmental collector.

This was not what she had in mind. Looking, yes, Marcia wanted to look. But to become the object of the looking?

Finally, he halted in front of her. “Aye, I can see the changes.”

The fact his cock was already semi-erect told her he didn’t exactly mind them.

Closing the gap between them, Hawk reached out to cup her breasts in his hands, his attention on her body. “Yer tits are heavier.” He hefted them. “Lower. I imagine if I put ye on yer hands and knees, they would hang down and give me something to hold onto as I rammed into ye from behind.”

Marcia sucked in a breath as the lewd image caused her core to flood with liquid heat. She pressed her thighs together to hold onto the sensation. Dear God, the man had a way with words.

Hawk’s hands moved to her waist, then her hips. “And these are wider, aye. Ye’ve put on more muscle. Ye’re stronger.” His fingers dug into the flesh of her arse. “Which is how ye were able to hold onto me so well as I fooked ye up against the door.”

She couldn’t help the little moan of need that escaped her lips as he dragged his palms up her body, brushing against her nipples, before he reached for her hair. With efficient movements, he pulled the pins holding her braid up, then untangled the plait until her curls hung around her shoulders.

“And yer hair, Marcia…Christ, yer hair,” Hawk groaned, threading his fingers through it, dragging it around to fall in front of her chest. “Yer hair is longer and thicker and still just as wanton, and I want to wrap it around my cock, use it to jerk off as I imagine yer lips on me.”

Oh.

Oh my .

Marcia was fairly certain she’d stopped breathing at imagining that erotic, completely depraved, act.

But before she could even think how to respond, Hawk had dropped to his knees in front of her. She blinked down at him, her hand falling to rest on his head as he reached for her thighs, spreading them, forcing her to shift her weight until she stood with her feet firmly planted, curls on display, moisture from his words threatening to drip.

“And yer cunny? Good God, Marcia, yer cunny must taste better than ever before.”

It was all the warning she got before he leaned forward and licked her.

Marcia gasped and tried to shift her legs closed, but he wouldn’t allow it, hands holding her in place with strong, eager hands. Again his tongue slid along her cleft, causing her to jump, then sink down into the sensation with a groan of need.

How had she lived without this?

Hawk hummed his approval, moving one hand from her thigh to her core. He hunkered down, kneeling at her feet, as he twisted his head to lick and suck and tease. Her core, already sensitive from the early pounding orgasm, responded immediately. She rocked her hips forward to give him better access, widening her stance, inviting him in.

His fingers, thick and scarred, played oh-so-gently with her cleft and the bud of her pleasure. His tongue circled her clitoris, again and again, until she was half mad with anticipation and half astonished she was still standing.

When he finally slid his fingers—first one, then two and three—inside her, she cried out with victory and rocked against them. Yes.

Her pleasure built as he worshiped at her feet, her hand on his head in benediction. He proved, with his tongue and lips and fingers and murmured moans, that he found her just as desirable as he had all those years ago.

Back before he was a murderer.

No, do not think of that. He loves you, and you love him, and he is showing you pleasure you have needed for so long .

Yes, Hawk knew her body, knew what she needed—and would give it to her.

He stroked and plunged and pinched in all the right ways. As he curled his fingers inside her to brush against the secret spot deep inside her core, his lips closed around her clitoris.

She knew what was coming, ached for it, and yet when it happened…

When he sucked hard , she jolted in surprise, and her release slammed into her unexpectedly. “Hawk!” she screamed, holding his head against her cunny as she bucked helplessly, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through her veins and muscles.

By all the saints! That was…remarkable.

As her climax faded and her knees started to suggest they could properly hold her weight, Hawk slid his fingers from her body, smirking slightly when he tipped his head back.

He looked quite proud of himself and made a show of licking his lips, gathering her dew into his mouth. “I think that proves exactly how desirable I still find ye?”

Grinning, she patted his hair fondly. “I suppose so.”

“Christ, ye dinnae have any idea how long I’ve dreamed of doing that,” he groaned as he pushed himself to his feet.

“Oh, I think I have a vague idea.” Since he now stood in front of her, his erect cock thrusting boldly from its nest of dark hair, she wrapped her fingers around it and grinned. “Likely as long as I have dreamed of you doing it.”

When she stroked him, he shuddered. “Lass, dinnae push me.”

“Or what?” She stroked him again. “Do you think yourself recovered enough to fook me, Hawk? I want to feel your cock in me.”

He stood there, allowing her to stroke him, for long enough that Marcia considered dropping to her knees to suck him to completion, the way he’d worshipped her. But he merely watched her, those dark eyes doing little to hide the desperation she saw on his face.

So, he needed more of an invitation.

She moved forward, allowing her nipples to brush against his chest. “What you said earlier. About holding my tits as you slammed into me from behind. Or my strength matching yours,” she whispered, running her palm along him. “I want that. I want to feel you claiming me. To know I am yours.”

“Marcia,” he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Please, Hawk,” she whispered, not caring in that moment what he’d done in the past. Knowing they only had this moment together. Knowing he would hate her when she found the evidence that would send him to prison—or worse. Knowing they had no future except this moment to claim what passion they could. “Fook me.”

His hands fell to her shoulders and he roughly pulled her away from him, spinning her about, then yanking her against him so her back was to his chest and her breasts untended.

Before she had time to react, he’d caught both her wrists in one hand and held them, forcing her back to arch, her head resting against his shoulder, her breasts on display as his cock probed at her arse.

“Ye’ve missed this, lass?” he whispered roughly, his free hand going to her breast to squeeze. “Ye’ve missed my touch?”

“So very much,” she groaned, wriggling her hips. God, could her body already be building toward another climax? Being held like this, being touched so roughly…

His palm climbed her chest to rest against the base of her throat. He wasn’t choking her, but it was a clear claim of power, domination. Yes .

Since her hands were held immobile her fingers scrabbled for him, trying to grasp his cock, trying to stroke him, even as she writhed in his hold.

He dropped her wrists to grab himself. Then, with her back still arched against him, his hand still at her throat, he parted her knees, slid into her wet channel, and she moaned in joy.

Yes .

It wasn’t the first time they’d fooked like this, standing upright, him holding her tight against him, but it had been so long. Was it possible he was longer, thicker? Had her memories done him such a disservice? Marcia had to push herself up on her toes to take him, even as he slid out and plunged back in again.

Yes .

After long last, she was where she belonged.

No matter who he was, no matter why she was here, they had this moment together. To cherish—before she reminded herself he could be a murderer.

He slid out of her again, then thrust forward, spearing her on his cock. She found herself rocking in place, trying to meet him, despite the fact he held her immobile. Her hands landed on his hips, trying to hold him in place.

And he growled, “Walk,” in her ear.

She didn’t think of disobeying.

On her toes, his cock spearing her from behind, Marcia took a tiny, tentative step forward, and he mirrored it. The sensation it caused—her thighs rubbing together because of the step, and him stroking from within—nearly sent her to her knees. Only the knowledge that he was holding her up, and that they could do that again, and again, and again, kept her upright.

Another step, another wash of incredible sensation she’d never imagined.

Yes .

Together, they shuffled toward the bed, each step sending her higher and higher. Her fingers dug into his skin, resisting the urge to reach for her own cunny and rub her clitoris, providing the pressure she needed.

“Good lass,” he murmured, his breath fanning the hair of her neck. “Such a sweet, tight little cunny. God, I’ve missed ye.”

Marcia could only moan, near breathless with desire.

When they finally reached the bed, Hawk halted their forward process. “Are ye ready to take me, love? Take all of me?”

“Please,” she whimpered, willing to beg on her hands and knees if it meant?—

He moved swiftly, his hand from her neck to the middle of her back, pressing her down. She caught her weight on her hands, her arse still high in the air, her core still riding his cock. But then he pushed harder, thrusting her against the mattress as he continued to stroke in and out gently.

Marcia didn’t mind; she merely tipped her face to one side so she could breathe, and reached for her crotch, using her fingers to spread her lips as he speared her from behind.

“Now, Marcia?” he rumbled.

She responded by thrusting her arse higher. “Now, love.”

He drove deeply into her, balls deep, wrenching a gasp from her lips which quickly turned into a groan. His thrusts were powerful and made it clear he’d been leashing his strength up until now.

Each plunge was accompanied by a grunt from him and a gasp or moan from her. Soon her pelvis was grinding against the mattress as he pinned her down, her fingers still stroking the bud of her pleasure. Each moment was a dance between pushing back to meet him as he possessed her and pressing forward against her fingers as she worked herself.

“Mine,” Hawk growled above her. “ Mine .”

Yes .

The muscles in Marcia’s thighs began to quiver and she knew she was reaching yet another climax. How had she forgotten how exhilarating, how perfect, her time with Hawk could be? How could she have forgotten how truly powerful the two of them were together?

Had it all been so painful that she’d even forgotten the pleasure?

His fingers traced down her spine. “Love ye, Marcia.”

And that was all she needed.

Her climax burst over her and she clamped her fingers tight around her clitoris, bucking against him as her cunny spasmed, tugging him deeper and deeper. Hawk froze, embedded deep inside her, allowing her to bask in the wonder that was coming around such a thick cock.

Yes .

Her climax seemed to go on forever, her entire body shaking as the tremors worked through her. But at long last, she released her tension and allowed her body to go slack against the mattress. Only then did Hawk begin to move again, with a soft growl.

He stroked out of her once, then back in again, then out again. Again. Again, and then he froze for a moment. Suddenly he reached between their bodies, pulled his cock from her, and thrust it slick against her arse.

She felt him spill, his seed sliding down the cleft between her cheeks, toward her cunny, heard his groan, felt him using the tip of his cock to paint her skin with his spend.

And while a part of her appreciated his forethought not to spill inside of her, she admitted to a brief disappointment he hadn’t claimed her in every way.

Likely for the best. The man could be a murderer, and you have been sent to find the evidence to punish him .

As perfect as this day was, the reminder was heavy.

With a sigh, Hawk collapsed on the bed, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her with him. He buried his face in her hair and inhaled shakily.

“Christ, Marcia, I’ve missed ye,” he whispered harshly.

There was nothing she could do except stroke his skin and push down the bittersweet thoughts. “I have missed you too, Hawk. Thank you for reminding me of how good we are together.”

“Good? Nay.” He kissed her head. “We’re fooking perfect .”

Yes, they were perfect together.

But they wouldn’t be when their secrets were revealed.