by Anna Durand
Rory stood behind me, completely nude, his swollen cock waving.
"Time to play?" I asked.
"Aye."
He yanked my lace panties down to my ankles.
I kicked them off. Desperate to get started, I ripped my shirt off over my head and thanked the stars I'd gone bra-less.
"Palms on the desk," he said, his voice low and deep and resonating with need.
"Yes, my lord." I slapped my hands on the desktop and wiggled my ass. "I live to serve."
"Like hell you do." His lips ghosted over my behind, then his tongue traced the upper curve of each cheek. "You're obstinate and independent, and I wouldn't have you any other way."
He raked his hands up my sides, around to my tummy.
I spread my legs, excitement sizzling on my skin.
"You are so beautiful, so perfect," he said, his hands traveling up to fondle my breasts. As he plumped and kneaded them, scraping his thumbs over my nipples, he pressed the hard length of his erection against me. "You are the most precious gift I've ever received."
"You're so sweet," I said, and moaned when he slid his shaft between my thighs. "But for heaven's sake, say something dirty."
He chuckled, the sound soft and darkly erotic, as he shifted one hand to my mound. Two fingers dived between my folds. "Ahm going to fuck ye, Em, until my cock is slick with your cream and ye beg me to make ye come. Is that dirty enough?"
I opened my mouth to speak, but his fingers plunged down my cleft and inside my entrance. His thumb stroked my clitoris, and all I could do was moan.
Oh those fingers, those strong and agile fingers, they strummed my body like a virtuoso playing a Stradivarius. He swept his fingers up and down my cleft, settled the heel of his hand on my clitoris, and worked me into a frenzy of need. I bucked my hips forward and back with each stroke of his fingers, swirled my hips in a frantic attempt to rub my clit against his hand, but the pressure of oncoming ecstasy escalated higher and higher without release. I whimpered and dug my nails into the desktop. He kept me balanced on the edge of climax, teetering but unable to tumble over, and I loved every second of his delicious torture.
"Please, Rory," I pleaded. "Please."
He nipped my shoulder. "Cannae resist a warm, wet lass who begs."
He grasped my hips and drove his cock deep inside.
The bliss of penetration, the fullness of him buried within me, forced a breathless string of words from my lips. "OhGodyesohyesthankyou."
My orgasm rocketed through me, searing and convulsive. I cried out as my body clenched around his shaft, again and again, the pleasure so intense I finally lost my voice on a strangled scream.
He held onto my hips as he pumped in and out, his balls slapping on my ass with each inward thrust, and my wetness making a sucking sound with each withdrawal. I rocked my hips back to meet his thrusts, crying out every time his hard length sank into me. As the pace quickened along with our breaths, I threw my head back and plastered my body to his, lashing my arms around his neck while his grunts and groans reverberated in the room.
I came again, with a burst of pleasure that made my heart pound so hard it almost hurt. My sex clenched around him over and over until, with a vigorous thrust, he found his release.
"Oh God, Em!" he shouted, punching into me once, twice more. His body went still. He enfolded me in his arms, his hands over my belly. Gasping for breath, he murmured into my ear, "I hope our bairn is just like you."
I reclaimed my breath enough to say, "I hope our baby's like you."
He peeled his body from mine, leaving me aching from the loss of his hot shaft filling me. He turned me toward him. "Our baby will be the best of both of us, and better than either of us because our love made this bairn."
"This is one lucky baby." I looped my arms around his waist. "And the first of several, I hope."
"Several?" He smiled with a heat that reawakened my desire. "Best keep practicing for the next one, then."
By the time we finished practicing, we'd made our way up to the third floor and collapsed on our bed, satiated more than any living thing had a right to be.
Sprawled across my husband, I traced lazy circles on his chest. "In a couple months, we'll have our first Christmas together."
"Can't think of a blessed thing I need or want." He kissed the top of my head. "You've given me the two best gifts — your love, and our baby."
"I think we should throw a big holiday party."
"Anything you want, m'eudail. This will be the first Christmas in years where I've had something to be grateful for."
I lifted my head to gaze into the warm amber eyes of the man I loved. We would celebrate our first Christmas, our first New Year's, and soon our first child.
"Our life is amazing,” I said. “Now, if I could just help Jamie and Gavin…"
"Matchmaking?” Rory groaned. “What can I do to dissuade you from that course?”
"It might be hard…" I glided my hand down to his groin. "But I’m sure you’ll think of something."
Rory's Version
Scandalous in a Kilt, Chapter One
I took one last look around the main bar of Pat O'Brien's, half hoping and half dreading I'd find a woman with a body made for slaking my lust. A one-night stand in New Orleans would hardly become the highlight of my first visit to America. Studying this country's legal system with a friend aroused my intellectual passion, but none of the women I'd come across in the past week aroused my sexual passions. Maybe I'd grown jaded about sex, the way I had about love. My third and final fling, thirteen months ago, had put me off one-night stands. Sex without names, without sharing a bed for more than an hour, had lost its appeal.
What did I need? Or want? Got no bloody clue, MacTaggart, do you?
Swigging the last of my whisky, I pulled a face at the subpar quality of the drink. American single malts couldn't compare to the genuine Scottish variety. I set down my glass and strode out of the main bar into the carriageway between the sections of Pat O'Brien's. A small group of people rushed past me, their laughter a bit too loud and their smiles a bit too exuberant. Buckled, they were. If I'd gotten intoxicated, maybe I would've enjoyed this night more.
Not likely.
The group moved off down the carriageway, and I glimpsed the doorway on the other side. Soft lighting and soft piano music emanated from the adjoining section of this establishment. I considered walking into the piano bar, but I'd lost my enthusiasm for… everything. My thoughts traveled back to Scotland, to my home in the Highlands and my family there, brothers and sisters, parents and uncles. A pang ached in my chest. I should go back to my hotel room and call the pilot to inform him to get my jet ready so we could head home tonight.
I started to turn away from the door, but movement snared my attention.
A blonde woman perched on a wooden stool, her curvaceous body twisting and turning as she sought the perfect posture for a self-portrait. She held a phone above her head at arm's length, rotating and tipping it until she seemed satisfied with the angle. A broad, brilliant smile lit up her stunning face.
Had I found an angel in disguise? No, I wasn't that fortunate.
No room in my life for an angel, anyway. No room for any woman, for longer than a night.
The blonde snapped a picture, then stuffed the phone in the back pocket of her jeans.
I stared at the angel, frozen in my fascination with that lush body bound in jeans and a short-sleeve shirt.
She bit her lower lip and glanced around the bar. Satisfied with whatever she saw or didn't see, the lass shoved a hand inside her shirt to root about in her bra.
My lips began to kink into a slight smile, but I flattened it out. Tilting my head to the side, I absorbed the sight of this beautiful woman and her bizarre task. She peeked inside her shirt, where her hand remained lodged inside her bra, and then whisked her hand free. She patted her chest and clasped her dainty hands around a tall, curved glass that held
red liquid. The bonnie lass gulped down a long draft of the beverage.
A wistful smile curled her delicate mouth.
I marched into the piano bar, headed straight for her.
What force compelled me to move, I had no idea. Something about this woman lured me to her, inexorably, inescapably. Her pensive expression a moment ago seemed a contradiction to her usual demeanor — or rather, the way she'd behaved for all but two seconds of the time since I'd first seen her. The woman possessed an inner light that poured out of her in every smile and glance, in the way she moved and in her complete disregard for decorum.
I'd become mired in a need to control my emotions, my expressions, my behavior. And all for what? I wanted what this woman exuded from every pore of her enticing body. I wanted freedom.
For one night only. Aye, one night.
Perhaps if I buried myself inside that little body, I might absorb a hint of her… essence.
Ridiculous. I should walk out the door and head home as I'd planned. I shouldn't keep striding toward this woman. And I absolutely should not speak to her.
She'd closed her eyes, relishing her drink. Her lips parted slightly, and her head slanted back a wee bit, accentuating her slender neck.
Turn around, man. Leave now.
I stopped behind the empty stool adjacent to hers. "May I take this seat?"
The lass jumped, snapping upright, her eyes wide and blinking furiously. She moved a hand as if to touch her hair, then clamped both palms around the glass.
She was… exquisite. Her shirt clung to her full breasts and highlighted the curve of her waist, drawing my gaze lower to her curvy hips and shapely legs. I couldn't see her erse, since it was parked on the stool, but I knew it would be as delectable as the rest of her. When I finally settled my gaze on her face, I froze. She looked so young. Should I, a man approaching forty, proposition a bairn? What if she was underage?
Dimly, I noticed the words printed on her shirt — ComicCon. Whatever that meant, I didn't give a shit.
As she admired my body with unabashed interest, my cock pulsed.
I wanted her with a scorching lust, but I had to make certain. "How old are you?"
She tore her focus away from my lower body. Her lips ticked up at the corners. "You must not get lucky very often if you ask women that question."
A feisty one. I liked it. Feisty women made the best lovers.
"You look young," I said, tilting my head left and right to appraise her, "but your manner is mature."
"Oh, I get it. You're worried I'm jailbait. Relax, I'm thirty-four." She lifted her glass. "Ask the bartender. He carded me."
"I'll take your word for it."
My cock wouldn't let me wait for the bartender's confirmation or think about the ramifications of what I intended to do with this woman. To her. For as long as it took to satiate this need for her incredible body. I'd never reacted to a woman this fiercely in my entire life. It was more than her body, though, more than those breasts I longed to knead and suckle or those hips I hungered to grasp and lift as I plunged inside her wet sheath. She had an indefinable air about her, one I couldn't understand or describe. Her pale hair shimmered in the muted lighting, like a halo around her beautiful face, and her hazel eyes sparked with an inner fire whenever she smiled.
I eased between her stool and the vacant one. "Well, would you mind having me?"
Her eyes had gone soft, her pupils blown, and her breasts lifted with each breath. Her voice grew breathless when she murmured, "Have you?"
"As a neighbor," I explained, since she seemed confused. Patting the empty stool, I gave her the smile I reserved for seduction. "May I?"
"This is a free country. Be my guest."
I settled onto the stool, sliding in until my erse bumped the back, and laid an arm atop the copper bar. "Being the guest of a bonnie lass appeals to me."
Everything about her appealed to me.
Once I'd fed my lust with her pleasure, I could leave her without looking back. I would have gotten her out of my system.
She tipped her head to the side, studying me with keen interest even as desire ignited in her eyes. "Are you Scottish?"
I rarely smiled, except to seduce a woman into my bed, but her straightforward question coaxed another smile from me. "What gave me away?"
"Can't fool a college graduate." She leaned forward to wrap her hands around her drink again. A natural blush rouged her cheeks as she gave me a teasing smile. "You have a kilt and an accent. Even if I were stoned, I could've figured that one out."
My God, she was enthralling.
I slanted forward a touch, my body seeming to crave her proximity. "College graduate, eh? I found an intellectual woman to bide my time with. What was your field of study?"
Stop asking stupid bloody questions. You don't need the woman's CV in order to fuck her.
The American angel fixed me with an assessing look, then sat up straight and slapped her hands on her thighs. "Computer programming."
"Ah," I purred, captivated by her pale, golden eyes. "You expect me to be less than impressed."
"My occupation isn't the stuff of men's wet dreams, now is it?"
To my surprise, a throaty chuckle rumbled out of me. When was the last time a woman had made me laugh? She was bonnie, aye, but also full of a fire I longed to devour, even if it burned me to ash. "I prefer professional women. And anyway —" I bent closer to her, so close her breaths whispered over my lips. "You'll be featured in all my dreams tonight."
Her lips parted, her eyes went glossy.
My mouth watered. I needed to taste her, to ravish her with a kiss of raw, animal hunger. I needed to strip her naked and consume her. I needed to possess her.
She stared at my mouth, her lips parted, her tongue whisking along the bottoms of her top teeth.
Bod an Donais. All the blood in my body rushed to my groin.
"Tell me," I said, "what is a beautiful, intelligent woman doing all alone in a bar? You should have a horde of men slavering to do your bidding."
"I got into town this evening. Haven't had a chance to drum up a horde." She wiggled her lovely bottom on her seat, swiveling toward me. Crossing her legs, she draped an arm on the bar while her other hand rested on her thigh. "Would you do my bidding?"
"Ah, lass," I said, fingering a lock of her hair. Our faces lingered tantalizingly near each other, and her feminine scent drugged me. "For you, I'd go down on my knees and do whatever is necessary to make certain you feel nothing but satisfaction."
She aimed her luminous eyes at me, her mouth open far enough I could've plunged my tongue deep inside.
I groaned at the thought, shifting my mouth to her ear, that silky hair brushing my lips. "I love your eyes. They sparkle like topaz dusted with emerald flecks. A man could drown in those eyes of yours, and he'd never want to come up for air."
When I slid my hand onto the back of her stool, she froze.
Take her, have her, for one night only.
The scent of her hair, the way it grazed my skin, drove me wild with a reckless hunger for her. "Let's go somewhere more… intimate."
"I'm not that easy." Her voice was low and sultry, decadent beyond belief.
And I chuckled, again. "I am."
"Telling me you're a man-whore is supposed to turn me on?"
"You are aroused," I said, my own voice turning husky, "I can see it. We're adults, and I willnae do anything without your consent."
"Damn straight you won't."
She couldn't see my smile. I couldn't contain it, faced with this fiery, sensual lass. In the back of my mind, a voice whispered to me. You can have her for more than a night, for more than a week, for a lifetime.
I did not want that.
Even if I did, in some deeply buried part of myself, I had no right to drag this sweet and sexy woman into the tangled web of my life.
One night only.
I nuzzled her throat, just below her
ear, savoring the way her breaths quickened. "I want to kiss you."
She hesitated, swallowing audibly. "I'd like that."
"Good."
A ridiculous sort of relief flooded through me. I needed a good shag, nothing more. This was nothing more than relief my cock would soon be sated and quit throbbing every time I inhaled this woman's scent.
I skimmed my lips along her delicate jaw, then dragged them across her cheek to the corner of her tempting mouth. My tongue flicked out to sample her skin.
She sucked in a sharp breath.
While I fought to keep my own breaths even, I explored the seam of her lips with my tongue and then repositioned my mouth over hers. I kept the barest distance between our mouths, not quite touching her though desperate to claim her mouth and brand her with my kiss. Her lips parted, begging me to take her, and her body sagged toward me. Her palms floated up to my chest. The light pressure of her hands, the whispers of her breaths, all of it spun me down and down into a black hole of lust. I was helpless to resist the gravity of her.
I skimmed my lips over hers.
She let out a breathless moan.
A need seized me, an irresistible impulse to take her moan into me. I pressed my mouth to hers, those lips soft and yielding.
She clenched my shirt in her fingers, opening her mouth as if pleading for more.
I licked at her tongue in delicate, teasing laps that had the lass dissolving into me, our bodies stretched across the distance between our stools, our knees grazing each other. My free hand found the elegant curve of her back and glided upward until my palm landed on her nape, and a shudder rippled through her body. I slid my fingers into her hair to cradle her head.
No turning back. I would have her tonight, for hours and hours, until we'd both satisfied our thirst for each other completely.
I plunged my tongue inside her mouth. The brazen lass met my every thrust with matching swipes of her own, our tongues tangling like we couldn't bear to sever the contact. When she moaned into my mouth, I thrust my tongue harder and deeper.
My balls pulled back into my groin, a sign I was far too aroused for a public venue. If I didn't unhand this woman, right this instant, I'd caith here in the middle of a crowded bar.
