by Dana Delamar
Chapter 4
RILEY
A breeze blew over my legs and under my kilt, tickling my balls. I felt half-naked, but given the fact that many of the men around me were in kilts, I didn’t feel alone. And I had to admit, I was enjoying the novelty of letting it all hang out. I’d certainly gone commando before—it drove Carter wild—but always in pants or shorts. Letting my tackle swing free under a heavy kilt? That was something else altogether. I was supposed to be wearing something under it, but fuck that. When in Scotland… pretend you’re Jamie Fraser.
I really had to hand it to Paige—Total Indulgence definitely knew what they were doing when they put a tour together. Today we were in a small town north of Inverness to see the Highland games. Total Indulgence had even arranged for a local costumer to provide us all with appropriate attire—thus my kilt and the traditional dancing costumes the women were wearing. Paige looked like a sweet country maid crossed with a Catholic schoolgirl. The combination was enough to keep me at half-mast every time I saw her.
It seemed that every person in the area was at the games, which were a combination of country fair and sporting event, where the men and boys got to show off their skills. Not to be left in the dust, plenty of women and girls were participating too, especially in the lively dancing competitions.
Although it was July, the day was cool, and clouds scudded across the sky. Everyone joked that it would probably rain (it was Scotland after all), but I didn’t care. The grass was green, the beer was flowing, and fuck it, I was wearing a kilt, and not much else.
I’d watched a few competitions, marveling at the brawny souls who dared to toss the caber, essentially a tree-sized log. I’d been offered a chance at it, but didn’t dare try. I’d make an ass of myself and/or break something, and I didn’t want to risk the latter. I had a mission to accomplish. I was getting Paige in bed before the day was through.
True to form, she’d stayed out of my orbit for the first part of the day, but we were all meeting at 6 PM for a special dancing class that Total Indulgence had arranged just for us. And I was determined to have Paige as my partner.
I showed up at the open-sided tent where we were to meet. A wooden dance floor had been set up for our use. I spotted Kenji and we traded nods. He was deep in conversation with a couple of the women, so I let him be. I scanned the group, looking for Paige, my heart giving a funny little flutter every time I caught a glimpse of sandy-blonde hair, followed by a pang of disappointment at each false alarm.
And then I saw her, and this time my stomach flipped as well. I felt like a teenage boy at my first dance, afraid to approach the girl of my dreams.
But I was no teenager. And this wasn’t my first dance.
I cut through the crowd and reached her side just as Kenji approached her on the left. “Fancy meeting you here,” I whispered in her ear.
She reddened then touched her neck, shyly meeting my eyes. “Having fun?” she asked.
“Very much so,” Kenji said before I could open my mouth.
A smirk played around his lips. That fucker! He knew exactly what he was doing.
“Me too, Paige,” I said, then inwardly groaned at how lame I sounded.
“Of course Carter’s enjoying himself,” Ken said. “All these men… in kilts.”
I was going to punch him. That’s how this was going to end. I stepped forward, and Kenji burst out laughing and put up his hands to ward me off. “Just kidding. Couldn’t resist.” He winked at me, then gave Paige a peck on the cheek. “It’s really amazing what you’ve done.”
“You organized all of this, personally?” I asked.
She blushed again and nodded. “This tour is my baby.”
“Well, it’s freaking fantastic.”
“Thank you.” She met my eyes for a moment, then looked away when Ken touched her arm. “Do you have a partner?” he asked.
Fuck being Mr. Nice Guy. “She does,” I cut in, putting a hand on Paige’s waist. “Me.”
“Ah,” Ken said and raised a brow, nostrils flaring with barely repressed laughter. “I guess that’s my cue to leave.” He winked at me again and leaned in. “I’ve got some kilts to peek under. Enjoy.”
I watched him wander off until I was certain he wasn’t coming back. When I turned to Paige, she said, “Now what was that about?”
“Ken’s trying to keep me from what I want.”
“Why?”
“It’s payback. And trust me, I earned it.”
“That sounds like an interesting story.”
“I’ve got a story that’s even more interesting.”
“Oh?”
“My blue balls have blue balls.”
She chuckled. “Sounds painful.”
God, she was cute. I resisted the impulse to grab the thick French braid hanging down her back and twist it around my fist. I wanted to pull on it, to make her arch on all fours beneath me while she moaned my name. Riley. Not Carter. Riley.
My cock sprang to attention and I thanked God that the sporran and heavy kilt kept it weighted down. Still, if anyone paid close attention… I stepped behind Paige and pulled her to my chest, pressing my cock against her ass. “Feel what you’ve done to me.”
She subtly rubbed against my kilt, and I had to stifle a moan. Good Christ, this woman didn’t appreciate her power.
Our dance instructor, a trim redhead around thirty, clapped her hands. “Claim your partners.”
Total Indulgence had arranged for a number of male dancers to act as partners for the women and assist in their instruction. The women and men paired off; I kept a tight hold of Paige’s hips all the while.
“How do you know I didn’t want to dance with someone else?” Paige asked.
“You’re dancing with me. End of story,” I growled in her ear.
She grinned, turning toward me a bit. “You are far too demanding, Mr. Templeton.”
“I’m at the end of my rope,” I said and touched her cheek. “And you know why, you little minx.” I whispered the next words. “Kissing me, and turning me down. Kissing me, then avoiding me for days.” A tremor coursed through her, a tremor I could see and feel. “That running ends tonight, Paige.”
“We’ll see,” she said, a challenge in her eyes.
Challenge fucking accepted.
The instructor called us to order. “We’re going to learn a traditional ceilidh dance. I’ll call out the steps, and you follow your partners.”
My possessiveness was for naught. The ceilidh (kay-lee) resembled a square dance in many ways, right down to the called out dance moves, such as “swing your partner” and “do-si-do.” Although I had plenty of opportunities to touch Paige, I often traded her off to other men. And yet, every time we touched, electricity flowed between us. I could sense it in the way she’d drag in a breath, her cheeks flushing, her eyes widening, a smile lighting up her face to match my own.
By the end of the hour, we were both breathless and laughing, and when I asked her to accompany me to get a beer and cool down, she didn’t argue.
We got our pints and found a bench under a tree. I pulled her onto my lap, and she shrieked in protest, but I muffled the sound with my lips. She let out that breathy little whimper again and shifted in my lap, her thigh rubbing against my aching cock.
“Let’s go back to the hotel,” I whispered.
“I can’t. I should stay in case anyone needs anything.”
I kissed her neck, then licked the spot I’d kissed, and this time her whimper turned into a moan.
“You have to stop that,” she said, her voice husky.
“I think I need to keep going.” And I did, kissing down to the notch at the base of her throat, my hand creeping under the hem of her plaid skirt.
She took hold of my hand, forcing it back to her knee. “I need to get off your lap. And we need to stop kissing.”
As if to make Paige more embarrassed, Ken walked up to us. “Get a room already!” he said with a laugh, then walked away.
“See?” she said and shifted onto the bench. She was breathing hard, her face red, and I knew she was thinking of running off.
I took her hand. “We both want this. Why fight it?”
She met my eyes, some old hurt flashing through hers. I wanted to strangle the guy who’d wronged her. “I don’t know how else to be,” she whispered.
“I won’t hurt you, Paige. I swear it.” I kissed her palm and she shivered.
“You won’t?”
“I won’t.” I crossed my heart. “Shall we get that room?” My pulse pounded wildly in my ears, and I fought to keep my grip on her hand light instead of tight and desperate. When was the last time I’d wanted anyone this much?
She squeezed my hand, her trembling voice betraying her. “Oh God, yes. Let’s get that room.”
PAIGE
My fingers wouldn’t stop shaking as I let Carter into my room at the hotel. Dear God, did I even remember how to do this?
Recalling my conversation with Ari before I’d left Miami, a giggle rose in my throat. It was like riding a bike, right?
I just hoped I didn’t fall off. Carter stepped up behind me and swept my braid to one side. Then he kissed my nape, and I swore every inch of my flesh broke out in goose bumps. He kneaded my shoulders lightly, and I moaned softly. When was the last time anyone had touched me like that?
“Relax, Paige,” he murmured. “I don’t bite.” He chuckled, the sound dark and wicked. “Well, not hard.”
I laughed and turned in his arms. “That’s better, and”—he touched my lower lip with his thumb—“you have the prettiest smile.”
“Thanks.”
I threaded my fingers together, trying to keep them from shaking.
“Look at me,” he said. I took in his dark hair, his beautiful brown eyes, the neatly trimmed beard and mustache. How was it a man that gorgeous was interested in me?
“Stop worrying, Paige. Relax and enjoy yourself.”
“I’ll try. It’s just… been a long time.”
He smiled, one corner of his mouth quirking up. “I promise not to break out the Olympic scorecards.”
I laughed again. “Okay.”
He leaned in and kissed me, his hands cupping my cheeks, and I opened to him with a sigh. He licked along the inside of my top lip, and I shivered. Then his tongue stroked mine, sending sparks between my legs.
Why had I resisted this for so long? It felt damn good to be kissed like this. Carter smelled so incredible, a mix of spices, the outdoors, and something that was his alone.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer. Something hard pressed against my belly. “Is that your sporran, or are you just happy to see me?”
It was his turn to laugh. He removed the sporran, and his cock tented the front of his kilt.
“Swinging free?” I asked.
“It’s not every day I’m in Scotland. If it works for Jamie Fraser…”
I reached out and caressed him through the wool. He groaned in my ear. “I swear I’ve had a hard-on from the first time you kissed me.”
“You flatter me.”
“It’s true.” He started unbuttoning the red vest I wore over the short-sleeved white blouse underneath. “Let’s see what’s got me so inspired.” One of his hands crept inside, cupping my left breast, his thumb finding my stiff nipple and stroking it. When I opened my mouth to gasp, he latched onto my lips again, and I threaded my fingers through his thick hair, pouring all my excitement into the kiss. Carter’s hands made quick work of the blouse and my red and white tartan skirt, until I stood there in only my bra, panties, and the argyle knee socks I’d been wearing. “Did I tell you how unbearably cute you are in this getup?”
I tugged at the black vest he wore over a long-sleeved white shirt. “And you, Mr. Templeton, are incredibly hot in this kilt. But now I’d like to see you out of it.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice.” He yanked at the blue tie that matched the blue and green plaid of his kilt, then untucked the shirt and unbuttoned it as quickly as his fingers would allow, bearing an impressively lean and toned torso.
I touched my own belly, lightly silvered with stretch marks from my pregnancy. Would he notice? Would he ask about it? What would I say if he did?
Clad only in the kilt and black socks with matching swatches of plaid, he toed off the black dress shoes he was wearing, then flexed for me. “Not quite Jamie Fraser, I know.”
“I’m not complaining.” I stepped closer. “Besides, Carter Templeton looks damn fine to me.”
He reached behind me and unhooked my bra. I caught it before it fell, holding it in place like a shield, then laughed and let it drop with a nervous thrill running through me. “You’re a lovely lass, Paige,” he said, putting on a thick Scottish brogue. Then he bent down and took one of my nipples in his mouth, drawing on it gently, before biting down. I cried out, the mix of pleasure with a hint of pain making my knees weak. He switched to the other nipple, using his fingers to tweak and pinch the one he’d abandoned.
“Oh Carter,” I gasped.
Each time he sucked hard on my nipple, a wave of heat tore through me. His hand left my breast and slid down to cup my sex, his thumb stroking over the fabric, grazing my clit when he pressed between my lips. “Oh God,” I whispered, not sure I could stay upright much longer. My thighs quivered, and my legs seemed made of Jell-O.
Carter yanked the fabric covering my crotch to one side, then plunged his fingers in his mouth, slicking them up before finding my clit again, and this time I tilted my hips forward, giving him better access. He supported me with one hand across my back, his mouth still on my nipple, his fingers stroking between my legs.
I moaned and twisted in his arms, widening my stance, and he worked a finger inside me, the invasion making me pant unashamedly.
Carter’s hard cock pressed into the flesh above my waist, and I reached for it, fumbling around with the kilt until I found the opening at his hip. Snaking my hand underneath, I took hold of him, delighted to find that he was well-equipped. I stroked him lightly, and he groaned against my nipple, then released it. His hands went to the belt at his waist and unbuckled it, the kilt falling to his feet. He stripped off his socks and made swift work of the rest of my clothing.
He knelt before me and kissed my belly. “Let down your hair,” he said, his voice husky with desire.
I reached up and unfastened the tie at the end of my braid, then loosened the twisted strands and let my hair tumble around my shoulders.
He smiled up at me. “You are a fucking goddess. When I first saw that braid, I wanted to wrap it around my fist while I was fucking you from behind.”
The words were low, his voice filled with grit, and I shuddered, the image he’d conjured in my mind flooding my sex with moisture. The idea of being taken, roughly, seared through me.
“Get on the bed, Paige, unless you want me to fuck you on the carpet.”
I went to the bed and threw the coverlet back while Carter rummaged around in his sporran. He held up two foil-wrapped condoms and came to join me. I leaned forward to get onto the bed, and he placed a hand on the small of my back. “Stay there.”
I wondered how much he could see of me, bent over the bed, my legs spread. I arched my back like a cat in heat, pushing my bottom out, letting him see me, offering myself shamelessly.
“Fuck,” he murmured. “You have no idea how much that turns me on.”
I looked at him over my shoulder, watching as he licked two fingers, then slid them inside me.
“Oh,” I moaned, pushing out to meet him, chasing his fingers when he withdrew them before plunging them back in.
“Jesus, Paige, you’re so fucking tight. I can’t wait to get my cock in you.”
“Then don’t wait.” I couldn’t believe I’d said it. Then again, I couldn’t believe I was doing any of this. Me, staid Paige Sutherland, single mom, hard worker, woman who hadn’t had sex in five years. Having a casual fling with a man eight years my junior. A man
I barely knew.
But somehow I trusted Carter. And this was just a fling after all.
“Get on your back,” he said, plunging his fingers in again, making me moan. I was so close already, and we’d barely started.
I climbed onto the bed and rolled over. Instead of entering me as I’d expected, Carter hauled my hips to the edge of the mattress and knelt beside the bed. “What are you doing?” I asked, propping myself on my elbows to look at him.
He grinned up at me. “Something you’re going to like.”
Was he really going to…? I’d barely formed the thought before he nipped at my inner thigh, his beard caressing the soft skin and making me shiver. I tried to close my legs, but he pushed them apart. “Don’t move,” he said, his voice low and commanding.
Heat bloomed in my belly, and I tried not to squirm when he ran his tongue along the seam of my sex, parting me to reveal my swollen clit. He blew on it, and I twisted away, then reminded myself to lie still.
“That’s better,” he murmured. “You taste so good, Paige.” He dipped his tongue inside me, penetrating me gently with it, and I arched to meet his mouth. Damn, he was good at this.
His tongue replaced his fingers and he concentrated his attention on my little nub. My breathing came hard and fast, and I knew I was getting close.
He withdrew the two fingers inside me, then his hand came back, and something felt different. He’d split his fingers apart, two inserted inside me and the other two caressing my other hole. I stiffened in surprise. Did he want that?
Pulling back, he looked up at me. “Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen that you don’t want. Just indulge me here. It’s called the Venus Butterfly, and if you don’t like it, tell me to stop.”
“Okay,” I rasped and let out the breath I’d been holding. Lying back, I closed my eyes. Relax, Paige, and go with it.
He resumed sucking on my clit, his fingers at work inside me, the other two he’d added circling my pucker, gently pressing and sometimes tapping on it, then finally penetrating it. The sensation was strange, but exciting too. I’d never tried anything anal, but clearly I’d been missing something, because this felt… great. And kind of overwhelming.
