The story itself which was inspired by the song "Marco Polo" by Loreena McKennitt. The sensuality of the tone tickled my muses into happiness. LOL!

James Fraser awoke just before sunrise, not an unusual trait for a warrior who was always ready to protect those he cared for.

She had emitted a very soft cry in her sleep. Many people of the modern century would have likely slept through the sound, but not Jamie. His sapphire gaze studied the sleeping woman in the dim light. Even in sleep, her brow was furrowed with worry and fear.

The Scotsman ran his hand, gently, along her cheek, a faint smile on his lips when he saw that she relaxed under his touch. Sunlight crept into the room, encouraging the redhead to pull the blanket off his wife, to gaze upon her nudity.

His breath caught in his throat. Out of respect for her modesty, Jamie had been very careful not to gaze at her nudity until they had made love. His eyes narrowed with silent rage when he saw the thin white and pink scars that covered various parts of her anatomy.

Why? He questioned silently. He knew most were the result of a sharp objects. They had healed well. What disturbed him were the small circular scars burned into her shoulder blade, waist, arms, and one just above her right butt cheek.

“Sae young,” Fraser whispered softly. “Sae fragile...I vow tae take care o’ ye, m’ Lady Tracy....I dinna care how angry ye get ...how much ye fight me...nor how much m’ hand might ha’ tae converse wi’ your bum. I will protect ye, and keep ye as safe as I can,” he promised before kissing her hairline.

I awoke with a start. Jamie’s face was just above mine, his intense blue eyes gazing at me. For one wild moment, I thought he was reading my mind, but then, I pushed away such nonsense.

“Good mornin’.” He smiled down at me, his eyes twinkling merrily.

I reached up a small hand and touched his unshaven cheek as if it were something I did every morning. “Are you for real?” I queried softly.

“Aye,” he murmured huskily, his index finger trailing down the valley between my breasts. “I could ask the same o’ you.”

I shuddered, his touch had an intoxicating effect on me and I wondered, briefly, if he were a magician. He was larger than life to me. A raw man, powered by human need and passion.

I finally answered him. “I’m real. All too real.” I grimaced when I felt his gaze slide along the scars of my past. Would he question them? Would I have to confess, that for a time, I was little more than a teenager trying to act like an adult, living on the streets and in the parks, trying to survive?

“Where did this one come from?” He probed gently, his index finger touching the small circular scars below my right breast, close to my waist.

I closed my eyes, drawing in a ragged breath, I could feel the flames of need licking along my inner core. “Ci...cigarette. An angry foster father.” Ignoring the despair I felt as I stated the truth.

“Ye like m’ touch, aye?” Kindly, he changed the subject, his fingers caressing the soft skin of my stomach and waist.

“Uh huh,” I managed. “But...uh...CC and Vin are probably wai--”

“They’ll wait!” he growled in my ear, pinning me to the mattress. “I think they’ll have fun doin’ sae!”

“Are all men of your time this lusty?” I grinned, realizing that a blanket separated us from being one flesh. “You cannot have me. The blanket is in the way.”

“Mmmphmmm!” He sat back on his heels and grabbed the blanket.

With a laugh, I rolled to the edge of the bed and stood. “No loving yet. I’m hungry,” I declared with a wicked grin. I discovered that I found pleasure in watching those sapphire, cat-shaped eyes narrow at me. “I am! Really, Jamie. You want me to eat, don’t you?”

He grunted and glared at me. “Call the room service people then.” He began muttering words under his breath. The only one I could decipher was cock stand.

I suppressed a giggle as I picked up the phone and ordered room service. “They’ll be up shortly.” I look towards him, wondering if he was truly angry with me for my play. Suddenly, I felt remorse. Was it wrong for a woman to tease and play with her husband after they’d had sex the night before?

“Lass, ye look ill now,” he observed, stretching his long naked from as he moved into a lying position.

“I’m not. I just need to use the can.” Quickly, I fled to the bathroom.

He raised both brows as he watched her rush from the bedroom and into the adjoining bathroom. She reminded the laird of a nervous rabbit. “Are ye all right, Tracy?” he called out, concerned.

“Yeah, fine. Thanks!” she shouted back, though he could hear a slight tremble in her voice.

What made a woman go from silly play to such a sad expression? he wondered. He enjoyed her playfulness, it was something they shared in common. “Hurry,” he told her, wanting that small warm body near him again.

“A person cannot rush these things!”

James Fraser snorted with laughter. Had his first wife Claire been so amusing?

His new wife was several years younger than he. Despite the scars and her pain, she was fresh and new, like spring. “And a virgin...” he mused aloud. He felt ridiculously happy about being her first and only lover. He’d learned already that the twenty-first century had very little sexual morale. Tracy had told him about little twelve year old girls with more than one sexual partner and teen pregnancies. It boggled his mind. Everything about it went against all he had learned growing up. He himself had remained a virgin into his adulthood. He waited until he was married.

When Tracy stepped out of the bathroom, she was wrapped in a black silk kimono, embroidered with small, pink and lavender flowers. “You look serious, Jamie,” she observed, sitting beside him, toying with the silken belt of her robe.

“Hmmph. I was thinkin’.” The Scotsman studied his wife intently. “D’ye fear me?”

She looked startled. “Why should I fear you?” Her gaze shifted to the lush carpeting.

“That isna an answer. I want honesty between us, no’ evasiveness.”

The amber eyed woman looked up. “I do, then I don’t, and then I do again, then I don’t. Does that make sense to you?”

“What is it ye fear most?” The tone was mingled with curiosity and concern.

She opened her mouth to speak, but, to her relief, a knock sounded at the door.

“Who is it?” Fraser demanded.

“Room service!” came the answer.

“I’ll open it, you can cover up.” Quickly, she leapt up and headed for the door.

I allowed the room service man entrance, thanking God silently for the timing. I wasn’t eager to answer my curious husband. I was also very hungry.

“Look at all the food!” I enthused after the man left. “Pancakes for breakfast, fruit with whipped cream...muffins...I don’t usually eat so well.”

“Is there any oatmeal?”

I laughed at him. “Eat some pancakes,” I told him as I stuffed part of a muffin into my mouth. “Mmmmm......” I rubbed my stomach. The berries had the perfect amount of sweetness and tart and the muffin had just enough butter to make me happy.

As I watched my husband serve himself a few pancakes and scrambled eggs, I began to feel mischief nibbling inside, then my gaze fell on the many fruits that held whip cream.

All my life, despite all the bumps and bruises I had taken, I always had to test my boundaries. I was afraid of Jamie to an extent, that alone, fueled the need to do boundary testing. My friend Johnny had always claimed that I was cheeky. He was correct.

I picked up a cream puff, studying it for a moment before lobbing it at Jamie’s head.

He looked at me with wide eyes. Slowly, they narrowed. That was the last expression I saw before my vision was filled with sticky peaches. “You bugger!” Wiping my face with the arm of my kimono, I grabbed a bowl filled with crushed bananas. I grabbed the goo and tossed the mess at him. SPLAT! It hit his face. I burst into a fit of giggles as it dripped from the tip of his nose. “Oh, lass,” his tone was grave, “I must punish ye now.”

I was about to panic, but then I saw the twinkle in his gorgeous blue eyes. My relaxation was cut short when he seized my wrists in one hand while he cheerfully dumped maple syrup over my head. “You bugger!” I squeaked.

With a great amount of agility, I silently raised my foot and buried it in a heap of whipping cream. Using his hold on me for balance, I stretched and presented his face with le crèmé dè foot.

Surprised, he spluttered and released his hold on me. “How’d ye do that?” he demanded.

Before my red haired husband could retaliate. I scooped up more whipping cream in my hands and launched them at his person.

“Ye’ll pay for this!” He charged forward, grabbed me about the waist and set me down, right in the center of the cart. Pancakes, fruit, and who knows what else made a disgusting squish underneath me. I squealed and tried to free myself, but my husband had other plans. He yanked open my robe. With a serious expression, he rubbed cherry juice all over my breasts.

I uttered a soft moan, looking down at his large arousal. That too, was covered with whipped cream. “Jamie,” I gasped.

“Hm?” He lowered his mouth to my breasts, his tongue laving along my flavored flesh.

I squirmed as he licked me clean, my body was growing hot, my innards twitching with undeniable desire.”God,” I rasped, my hands sliding along his warm muscular shoulders.

Gently, he pushed me away. “Nay....Clean me, lass.”

“Huh?” I asked through my euphoric stupor.

He lifted me off the cart, kicking the contraption away after he set me on my feet. “Kneel lass...And lick me clean.”

Heat flashed through my temples as my knees threatened to buckle underneath me. They way he said it, with that Scottish burr of his, it reminded me of any good historical romance I had ever read, but once I kneeled, I clutched. He pulled up a chair and sat so my eyes were level with his huge cream covered penis. “I....uh....” Didn’t know if I could fit a quarter of it in my mouth.

“Lips and tongue,” my lover whispered. “Ye will be rewarded tenfold.”

My tongue darted out, just touching his overly warm flesh. I drew back with surprise when I saw it flex.

“It willna bite ye,” he chuckled softly.

I whimpered softly, trying not to focus on my hormones which pleaded for Jamie’s sex. I rested my hand on both his muscular thighs, slapping his maleness with my tongue. I could smell a faint musky smell, not at all unpleasant to the nostrils. As a matter of fact, it was the scent of him which made me grow bolder.

I took the uncircumcised head into my mouth, pressing my lips tightly around his fullness. I could taste a slight saltiness with the last of the whipped cream. A small vein pulsed against my upper lip, it made my private place pulsate to the rhythm of his.

I’d always been told that performing oral sex would kill the mood, that women gained no pleasure whatsoever in it. They were wrong, oh so terribly wrong. I had never felt such deep felt arousal.

I nibbled and licked the whole length and girth of him clean, relishing in every gasp and moan I heard. I was about to take him into my mouth again, but he stopped me. “How oft have ye done this?”

“This is a first...” I gazed up at him, his jaw was taut, his eyes dark with passion.

“Go lie on the bed,” he commanded, his voice strained.

I stood, unsteadily, and walked to the bed, blushing when I felt my own wetness as I strode to the bed. I settled on the bed, looking up at the ceiling as I wondered what my Scotsman would do next.

I did not have to wait long, Jamie strolled up to me, a small bowl in his hands. He lifted my leg, slipped underneath, and made himself comfortable between my thighs.

I drew in a ragged breath as his fingers deftly spread whipped cream all over my secret place. “Oh!” I cried out, moving against his touch. “Please...”

He did not give me any vocal response, instead, he buried his face between my legs. I uttered a soft scream as my fingers dug into the sheets and blankets. I closed my eyes, a helpless heap of sensations as his tongue pressed against my love nub.

I felt as if I were given a drug, each sensation sang together, yet separate. The feel of his rough calloused hands on my hips, squeezing gently as I writhed desperately, begging him to make love to me. His soft red hair, tickling my thighs, and that expert tongue that seemed to seek out and find each little spot that drove me to a higher axis of nirvana.

And then it happened, that explosion of release. It consumed every molecule of my being. I was vaguely aware of my own screams as one of my own hands raked through my long hair, the other hand was tangled in Jamie’s. My body trembled in its own cadence, and again, I was barely aware. My mind had reached such a high level of bliss, that nothing mattered, only the feeling of absolute fulfillment.

Slowly, the intense feeling subsided, leaving me drained yet deliciously happy.

My husband gathered me into his arms. “Sleep for awhile, love...Let me hold ye....”

I fell asleep in his arms, thinking there was no other place where I would rather be.

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