“I have a cow for your family, and a job offer,” he said. “Impress me, and they’ll both be yours.”
A cow’s milk would feed the Scot’s children, and her calves would be a source of income or meat. The job offer would ensure he could care for the animal, as well as give his family a steady diet and keep a roof over their heads. Evan saw disbelief replaced by calculation, and then sheer determination.
Nakedness didn’t hamper him. The man had pride, but it wasn’t wasted on modesty. He charged out of the water like a rutting stag, and Evan was pleased to note adrenaline had already made him half hard, despite the cold water. Ready for the initial grapple, he let Niall take him to the ground, but after that it was a simple matter of breaking the grip, working the man out to his full capacity, testing his holds, his strength, his staying power. Given his physical state of near starvation, it was more than impressive. It was bloody phenomenal.
The Scot had tremendous heart, which just made the picture grow in Evan’s mind as they grappled, dodged punches, broke holds. He could see the way he’d paint the stark lines of this man’s body, portray the character and perseverance in his face. Noble desperation, honor without hope, the most miraculous type of honor there was. This man was all of that.
He was capable enough to land a few good blows. Evan had to focus now to avoid dislocated limbs, a crushed rib. Having his balls kneed into his throat. The bastard would pay for that one. He could feel the tide turning, though. The Scot had been given something tangible to fight, something that understood his rage . . . and with understanding came a different sort of reaction.
This time when he flipped him, Evan unleashed his vampire strength. He made Niall fight harder and harder, until his breath was sobbing in his throat. It took longer than expected, but Evan finally had him down on his knees, face to the muddy bank. Niall heaved, but couldn’t buck him off. He tried a couple of times, but then he had to take a breath, and when he did, Evan slid his hand beneath him, closed it around the fully turgid cock. Holy blessings of God.
The man went utterly still. Disbelief emanated off him, a protest dying on his lips. As a vampire, Evan detected the sexual preferences of humans as easily as the rush of blood through their veins. This man had his wife regularly. He was a generous lover, giving her pleasure as well. Evan had been outside his tiny sod house, heard her bitten-back cries, inhaled the gush of her orgasm and the spill of her man’s seed. The Scot had given her the side of his hand to bite down upon as he pushed her to climax, and she’d broken the skin, bringing Evan the sweet smell of passion-fired blood.
So yes, Niall enjoyed women, but there was that within him that also enjoyed males. His ass was provocatively virginal, given that there was no acceptance for sodomy in his world. Beyond that, he was the type who would be faithful to his wife, no matter the temptation provided by man, woman or fetching sheep.
He wanted that cow, though, and Evan knew if he was ruthless enough, the Scot would allow himself to be used to get it. He explored the feeling, pushing his own hard arousal against the bare, wet backside. The muscles flexed in apprehensive anticipation.
“We’ll leave that alone for now, I think. I don’t fuck with a man’s honor unless it serves a better purpose than my cock.” Tightening his hand in Niall’s long hair, he enjoyed the thickness of it. “You impressed me, Scot. Get your clothes, and we’ll get your cow.”
As he eased off, Niall slammed his elbow back into his face, knocking him to his back and straddling him. Evan could have put him back down, but he was curious. Niall was panting, staring down at him in confusion. Blinking through the agony ricocheting from the bridge of his nose, Evan let his gaze slide down the bellows of his chest, to the shaft jutting over his bare rib cage. “Wouldn’t mind a taste of that. Now that you’ve washed it off.”
A muscle flexed in Niall’s jaw. “I’m no whore.”
But Evan could easily make him one. That wasn’t his intent, however, so he pushed the shallow temptation aside. “No. But you’re interested in how my mouth would feel. Bring it closer.”
Niall swallowed, shook his head, stood and offered his hand. “Your mouth’s bleeding.”
He’d love to see Niall taste that blood, but he’d scrambled the poor chap’s brain enough. So he licked it off himself, suppressing another surge of desire when Niall couldn’t take his eyes off the movement. “I gave you the one shot, but if you take another, you’ll have the broken nose. I only tolerate so much.”
“You’re nae English.” Niall yanked his shirt over his head, rewrapped his plaid around waist and shoulder. Evan catalogued the graceful power for later replay and sketching as he retrieved his own shirt.
“Raised in Italy, with my great-grandparents coming from Spain. My home base now is in the Colonies. I have some property there. Since I’ve traveled most my life, most people assume I’m English when I talk. It seemed intelligent to cultivate the accent of the currently most powerful nation. You have a good ear. I’m impressed.”
“If that’s all I had to do to impress ye, we could have skipped the wrestling match.”
Evan lifted his head from the laces of his shirt, gave him a slow smile. Niall was braced on the bank with one knee bent to manage the incline, a hand on his belt. It was a solid, thick thing, quite capable of striping those taut buttocks. “Yes. But that would have deprived me of the pleasure of handling your cock.”
Niall shook his head. “I’m no sodomite.”
“Only for lack of opportunity.” He’d love to bind Niall over the edge of a bed and rut on that fine “arse” until the man came against his belly a dozen times, wrung out like a dishrag. He’d fight being fucked at first, but then he’d give himself to it with shameful pleasure. As Evan adjusted his erection, he was pleased to see Niall unable to look away. “But you like women too. As do I.”
“What’s a landowner from the Colonies doing here?”
Evan decided to let him change the subject. It wasn’t his main reason for following him, anyhow. Just a pleasant fantasy. “Painting.”
At Niall’s perplexed look, bordering on astonishment, Evan managed not to bare his fangs in a grin. Instead, he clapped him on a tense shoulder. “I need a scout.”
Not every man born into mean circumstances realized there was more and longed for it. Niall did, but his world had little room for such things. He’d pushed it down as something of no matter, knowing he’d live and die at that croft. But it would churn in his gut like a poison.
On those surreptitious nighttime visits, Evan had sometimes come inside, blending in the shadows as vampires could do. He’d seen Niall make love to his wife, taste her everywhere. They explored each other in the uninhibited way only sexual innocents could. Nothing was considered taboo, but even so, Evan sensed the Scot holding back with her. He had a savage hunger for a rougher, more demanding sexual desire. During their wrestling match, Niall had recognized a match for his true needs. He had enough sorrow and fury to take pain, respond to it with rage, and release it through passion.
As Evan let his hand linger on Niall’s shoulder, slide down his back, possessive desires dug into him like thorns. He wanted this one, and it had been a while since he’d wanted one for more than food.
However, vampires observed certain inviolate rules when it came to taking servants. This man wouldn’t abandon his family, and Evan would respect that, help him if he could. As for the rest, he’d channel the fantasy into his canvases and move on.
Unless Fate decided it had different plans.
Meeting him was like that first kiss. A delicious energy sweeps through the muscles, makes the heart leap, brings to life a special kind of hunger where the mind isn’t a part of it. You wonder when you’ll next get to touch him that way again, and how quickly you can make it happen. But there were things that had to heal first. We had to get to know each other. We shared women during that time, but they were a buffer between us as well as a passing pleasure. Not kissing him, not claiming his body for my own, for all those years, was hellish.
Alanna nodded against Niall’s chest, hearing his steady heartbeat. She’d been stroking her hand across the muscles of his stomach for a while now, tracing that silken arrow of hair that pointed to the groin area. She felt it beneath his shirt. His arm tightened around her again, but this time the movement was more deliberate. When Niall put his other hand over hers, he slid it down, making her wet her lips as she covered a cock experiencing the hardness men carried out of dreams. He pushed against her, like a man stretching the rest of his body after a good nap.
“Aye, that’s nice,” he murmured. “Nothing like pressing against a pretty lass’s grip when waking. Though ’tis even nicer to press against her arse. Unless of course, she puts those fingers tae guid use.”
“I’ve a better idea.”
Evan was standing above them, with a glint in his gaze that suggested her two hours of “free time” were over. “Roll over, Niall. On your knees, over her.”
When Niall met his gaze, she anticipated conflict between the two. Hoping to head it off, she wriggled to give Niall room to obey, tugging on his arm, showing her desire that he follow Evan’s order and prop himself over her.
“Kiss her senseless, Niall. But stay on your hands and knees, your knuckles pressed into the ground on either side of her. Alanna, you can touch him however you desire.”
“Evan, what the hell—” Niall grunted as Evan leaned over him, stripped the belt out of his pants, reaching under him to open them. With the familiarity of long practice, he reached in, gripped Niall’s cock, making him groan. “You were having good dreams, neshama.” His other hand slipped into Niall’s side pocket, coming out with the lubricant oil most male servants, especially those serving male vampires, carried with them, knowing the carnal nature of their Masters.
“Alanna?”
Her view was incomparable, seeing the vampire take hold of the rigid cock at close range. But at Evan’s admonishment, she snapped out of her distraction to place her hands on Niall’s strong face. Bringing him down to her, she pressed her lips to his. She’d been studying his mouth for an hour, so deep pleasure thrummed through her as she kissed him deep, teasing his mouth. Triumph surged when he growled against her lips. He took over, pressing her back to the ground, his elbows bending so he could devour her lips, tangle with her tongue.