Free Shooting Stars / Bound by Love by Bella Andre Page A

t feel more strongly about Jake, she thought, as she bucked her hips into his gifted hands and mouth. After all, he used just the right pressure on her clit, just the right amount of tongue as he lapped at her, and he even slipped his fingers into her cunt at exactly the right time.
    Which was, she mused, precisely the problem. She didn t want a guy who did everything just right.
    Christina had always dreamt of a man who would, without a word, press her against the wall, spread her legs and fuck her long and hard. He would ignore her cries of protest, refusing to be swayed by her tears. Big and rough, yet totally committed to her every sexual desire, he would pleasure them both with his ramrod huge cock. The prison scene with Mel Gibson and Sophie Marceau in Braveheart played vividly in her head. Her DVD copy was almost worn out from all the times she had watched it, dildo in hand.
    Why , she wondered silently as Jake s smooth cheek slid against her slick thighs, can t modern men be more like the warriors of the past?
    Holding Jake s head in her hands to keep his mouth steady on her clit, she stared up at the black night through the skylight above his bed. A shooting star raced across the sky.
    On the verge of a powerful orgasm, her heart cried, Take me to my warrior .
    Everything went black.
    * * * * *
    Scotland, 1320

    Christiania trembled beside Marcus, Laird of the Gordon Clan. Proving a keen eye for even her slightest movement, his steely gaze met hers. The hardness in the man who was to be her husband sent a gasp from her lips. Christiania dropped her gaze to the floor, but not quickly enough to miss the irritated tic in his cheek.
    Already she was proving to be a less than satisfactory wife. She hoped he would not beat her too hard. Or, perhaps, that she would at least pass out after the first several blows and be blessedly numb to the pain.
    Earlier that morning as the sun had risen orange in the sky, the nuns had come for her. A white beaded gown was draped across their sturdy arms. The whitest white of the gown against the blackest black of their robes seemed to Christiania a dire prediction of the changes she would be facing as the wife of a Laird.
    She would be the wife of a legendary warrior. Christiania shivered at the thought. Most women would have been thrilled to be a warrior s woman. She knew that with utter certainty and yet she was afraid. Afraid of her husband to be. Afraid of the life she would now be expected to lead. Afraid of everything, really.
    A thick, jeweled band would be slipped onto her finger and she would have to leave the safe, quiet haven of the nunnery behind forever.
    4
    If she could have run, she would have. Running, alas, was not an option for Christiania. The bars of the nunnery were thick iron, but even had they been made of air she would not have turned her back on her responsibilities.
    Her father, her mother, her people, were counting on her. Or rather, they were counting on the coffers of gold and silver that her marriage would bring to their fire-ravaged town.
    Her own life was but a small price to pay for the renewed vigor of her birthplace, a once thriving land. It was her duty to sacrifice herself to the needs of her family. Just as it was her duty to sacrifice herself to the needs of her husband. Again she shivered with fear. How she dreaded the moment when he pressed his body against hers. She prayed for the strength to fight her tears when he rended her in two, as he would again and again until she had given him a male heir. She begged the Almighty to grant her a strong and healthy son and quickly, but Christiania was very much afraid that her prayers would go unheard.
    Christiania had been groomed from the cradle to be the virgin wife of a great man. During all her years at the nunnery, where she had been pleased by the silence rather than dismayed by it, she knew that one day she would be marrying.
    Today she would fulfill her ultimate purpose to her family.
    If only she