Free MacKinnons' Hope: A Highland Christmas Carol by Tanya Anne Crosby

his chest, pushing him gently away. “Alas, but we cannot, Iain. There are too many people. How can we?”
    Iain wiggled his brows. “Quite easily,” he argued.
    She gave him a lovely, chastening glance beneath hooded lids. Her cheeks bloomed with high color. But she nevertheless shook her head.
    Iain felt like a young lad who’d been shown a sweet tart and then had it ripped out of his hand. He pouted like a boy. “How about the tip … to whet my appetite for later?”
    Her shoulders shook gently, but this time with quiet laughter. “Only the tip?”
    Iain nodded quickly, excited by the prospect. “Only the tip,” he promised, “and then I will be a verra good boy and tend to all my guests.”
    “All of them? Even the wet nurse who came with Broc and Elizabet? The one who seems to be all eyes for the verra handsome MacKinnon laird?”
    “Nay. Well, not her.”
    Page smiled sweetly. Reaching down between them, she lifted her skirt, allowing him access, “Only the tip, and no more, Iain.”
    Iain nearly laughed, because she sounded like a mother rationing cookies to her son. But laughter was forgotten and his heart nearly leapt from his chest as he pushed his plaid out of the way, taking himself into his hands. They had not made love for days, and it was driving him mad. He could scarcely contain himself as his flesh touched her silky warmth and he shuddered savagely as her body welcomed him inside.
    “Only the tip,” she whispered against his ear, her breath hot and sweet. It gave Iain yet another shiver.
    “Aye,” he agreed with a guttural moan. “But how many times?”
    Her lovely brow furrowed. “How many times?” It took her a full moment before she realized what he was asking.
    She was silent so long that Iain made to withdraw, though she pulled him back, arching slightly, laughing softly. “Five,” she said.
    Relieved, Iain fell back against her, closing his eyes, savoring the feel of her soft skin melting around his cock.
    Intending to make the most of it, and savor every second, he withdrew the first time with a little shiver and then pushed himself back inside … only the tip.
    “One,” he said, and withdrew again.
    “That was two,” Page said firmly, although her breath now sounded labored to his ears.
    Iain groaned with pleasure. With careful control, still savoring the moment, the way her body stretched and closed about him, he withdrew once more, and Page said, “Two.”
    Iain tried not to laugh.
    “Three,” she whispered.
    “Four,” he said.
    “Five.”
    The tension in Iain’s shoulders was palpable. He froze, dreading the moment of separation. If she just let him do it a few more times, he would gift her with the seed of his love—and mayhap give her another child—mayhap a son.
    The stable went completely silent.
    It was dark now, the air musty with the scent of sex.
    “Six,” his wife said quietly, and Iain remained very still, not wanting her to claim he’d gone against his word. “Six,” she said again and moved provocatively against him, tilting her hips so as to give him better access.
    Iain pretended to resist. “But you said…”
    Her hand moved behind his arse, pulling him back. “Dinna mind what I said, now I want six,” she demanded.
    Iain laughed. “And now who is the insatiable one?” But he gave her what she asked for, pushing himself inside once more—this time much more than just the tip.
    He waited to see if it pleased her, and when she buried her lips against his neck and nipped his skin, lifting one leg about his waist, he knew he had.
    Page sighed contentedly. “You can have ten,” she offered, pulling him down toward the ground. Iain followed her down, covering her body with his own. He moved against her, worshipping her body, withdrawing and pushing back inside with arousing slowness, wanting to pleasure her first. Each time, she took him more fully, widening her legs a bit more, nibbling his neck a little harder…
    “Page,” he