Easy

by Donna Alam

  I’m still a teacher, only now I work in a private school here in London. An American based curriculum for children of wealthy ex-pats. What? You’re surprised I gave into Will?

  ‘Best be careful you don’t get spanked, then,’ she murmurs, shooting me a sly gaze.

  So I live in London now, more specifically with Will in his penthouse apartment, which was a better decision than his whole “I’m moving to America” plan. Let me tell you, three days of living with him in my tiny apartment were enough to make me promise myself as bride to Mo. Who is totally into beards and not babes, by the way.

  ‘Right. I’ll leave you now,’ Mary says, dipping the blinds closed in Will’s office. ‘Once he comes back, I’m away out the back door. You won’t be disturbed for at least an hour.’

  Nope, it totally doesn’t feel awkward as she sends me a bawdy wink before pulling the door closed.

  My fingers tremble as I slip my cardigan from my shoulders and begin loosening the buttons of my shirt.

  In the months that have passed since I’d handed in my resignation and travelled back to London to start a new chapter here, so many things have changed. I now wear Will’s mother’s antique emerald ring on the fourth finger of my left hand, the only thing he’d brought with him the day he followed me onto the plane. Yep, we’re totally engaged. No ifs not buts no questions. I think he would have proposed on the plane, if not for my heavily medicated self.

  And though we aren’t married, mainly because of my stubborn streak and his annoyingly tenacious one, I sense that’s about to change. I’m about to give in, though it’ll be no great hardship. Actually, it’ll be a bit of a relief.

  Will likes to tell people I’m like a rock in a riverbed and that he’s the river flowing around me. He’s right, partially. He is both the cool presence that feeds me, and the friction that wears me down. Okay, so that wasn’t a great analogy. Water wears over time, but it doesn’t cause friction, unless you’re having sex in the water. But then I suppose that’s drag.

  But I digress . . . as I undress.

  Will. What’s changed for him. Well, apart from my lord and master—and nope, I refuse to call him that in bed—gaining a fabulous fiancée, he’s also making great strides with his family affairs. Thanks to a deal with the trustees of some historic trust, he’s been able to pass on Travers Hall to be owned by the nation, sort of, as a piece of historic treasure. Even if it is falling down around our ears.

  This has eliminated some of his tax concerns, while still allowing him to retain a large apartment there for himself and his family. And as for the castle in the highlands, Keir has worked his business magic on the place. We’re expecting it to be used for team building weekends and the like quite soon. Captains of industry will take their teams for quad biking, shooting, roaring fires and good food and whiskey, all while paying a handsome sum.

  It might sometime in the future also lend itself to weddings. Following ours, I hope.

  The air in the room is cool, but I don’t think it’s quite that which causes my nipples to stiffen. I consider leaving on my lacy panties, slipping them down my legs in a fit of daring at the last minute. I do, however, leave on my heels.

  I hop up onto the examination table, the paper sticking to my ass as I try not to rip it before I work out which is the sexiest pose.

  Arms above my head, boobs thrust out? I guess it beats propping my feet on the stirrups which, thankfully, aren’t attached.

  That works, I decide, hiding the sliver of plastic in my hands as I arrange my legs in the make-my-thighs-look-slim-in-a-bikini pose which I’m sure I read in a magazine is called the half flamingo.

  I lick my lips and fluff my hair as the door to his office opens. Something papery lands on his desk with a little thump, his suit jacket coming into view as he throws it on to the chair across the room. Then his happy whistling stops abruptly.

  ‘Hello, what do we have here?’ he purrs, all low toned and sexual.

  The door lock engages. His shoes sounding against the tiled floor.

  My nipples are so hard as he steps into view, twirling my lacy panties around his long index finger. I feel his gaze like the caress of fingertips, sending all the blood in my body to thump and pulse between my legs as he brings the silver coloured lace to his face and inhales. I just about explode—implode? Melt all over the examination bed.

  ‘Have you been shopping, Lady Sadie?’

  He looks so proper, yet so devilish. Charcoal suit pants and a vest, a French cuffed shirt and a natty blue tie that draws the colour from his eyes. And my new panties dangling from his fingertip . . .

  In answer, I raise one shoulder slightly; it’s not an easy feat while trying to maintain an air of coquette.

  ‘To what do I owe the pleasure.’

  ‘How’d you know you’re getting any? Pleasure that is.’

  ‘It’s not often I find a naked woman on my examination table.’

  Laughter burbles from my throat. ‘This table has seen plenty pussy,’ I retort.

  ‘But none as delectable as yours.’ He stuffs my new La Perla panties into his pocket, as he stalks towards me. I think for a minute, he’s going to kiss me. Lay his body against mine and devour me, when he hooks a small stool from under a table and sits at the foot of the bed.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I ask nervously. Excitedly. Between my legs is as swollen and as heavy as the thing Will discreetly adjusts in his pants.

  The thing I crave right now.

  ‘I’m going to look at my pussy’

  ‘Yours?’ I quirk a brow.

  ‘Well, it’s on my bed,’ he replies sounding reasonable enough. ‘Should I get the stirrups?’ he says, making to lean away.

  ‘Not necessary,’ I say, stretching one leg out, placing my high heeled foot on his shoulder.

  Holding my ankle in his hand, he presses his lips to the inside, his dark eyes never leaving mine. Until I let my other leg fall open at the knee.

  ‘I didn’t even have to ask,’ he purrs.

  ‘I’ll even let you stick your fingers inside me.’

  ‘You’re a dirty bitch and I fucking love you,’ he says, all pillow soft lips and teasing smile.

  ‘And you’re easy,’ I murmur as he lowers his mouth. Kissing up my leg. His fingers finding me wet. My back arches from the bed as he thrusts with his fingers and his mouth loves my flesh.

  ‘I’m not so easy these days,’ he whispers, his wicked gaze flicking up from between my legs.

  ‘Only for me.’

  I cry out as his hand reaches up to tweak my nipple before sliding back between my thighs again. A carnality floods my bloodstream at the sight of his avid expression and the cadence of his voice.

  ‘I love this pussy,’ he growls. ‘Give it to me.’ The full flat of his tongue swipes my length, the tip following to flick my clit again and again. ‘Come on, plum. Get there for me.’

  I push into his face, bringing my hand to his head as he teases me again and again. I grip the sliver of blue and white plastic tight, keeping it from his reach and behind my head. But as his fingers spread and his tongue begins solidly fucking me, I forget everything.

  His movements are so rhythmic and his tongue so divine that I find both of my hands in his hair as I ride his chin and face, arching my back as I burst into a blinding flame of white heat and ecstasy.

  ‘Oh, God.’

  ‘Not quite,’ he says, smiling up from between my legs, circling my clit once more with his tongue. ‘But I love you just the same. Maybe with a little less benevolence and a lot more lust.’

  ‘Stop.’ Somehow, the word sounds more like a plea for more, but before my orgasm begins to climb again, Will leans down, grasping something from the floor.

  ‘Is this—’ he begins haltingly, his eyes flicking from my face to the blue stick in his hand. ‘You—are. We. Are?’

  I stretch lazily and smile. ‘Sounds like you’re conjugating verbs.’

  His stool slides across the floor as he sudden
ly jumps to his feet. ‘We’re having a baby!’

  ‘Certainly looks like it, Doctor Pussy.’

  ‘Get it right, darling,’ he murmurs, smiling. ‘It’s Lord Pussy.’

  ‘Or no pussy.’

  ‘We’re having a baby,’ he says again. ‘But, what’s this?’ he asks, turning the pregnancy test over to where I’ve written, ‘A date?’

  I nod happily, tears making my vision glassy.

  ‘On that date next month, in your favourite castle, I’m going to make an honest man out of you.’

  And that so isn’t . . .

  THE END

  Read on for some limited time extra special bonus reads, including Kallie’s story, and exclusive unavailable anywhere else, plus a couple of trips to The Den.

  You might also like to check out The rest of the Hot Scots crew, including Mac & Ella’s story in Single Daddy Scot, or burn your kindle up in Kit & Bea’s story in One Dirty Scot, where you can visit The Den again.

  Thanks so much for reading. It means more than words can say!

  Wee Scots Dictionary

  Auld - “Old” Often used to refer to older peole. See “ye auld bastard”

  Aye – Yes

  Bam – Uneducated delinquent

  Bampot – An idiot

  Bairn – A child

  Bahoochie - Bottom. Bum. Arse. Ass!

  Beasties – Bugs

  Bevvy – Alcoholic beverage

  Blether – Conversation, often long. “She was bletherin’ on and on”.

  Bide – Where you live. “I bide in Edinburgh.” Can also mean stay, ‘‘bide awhile’’.

  Bonnie – Beautiful, “She’s a bonnie lass”/Excellent. “He’s a bonny striker!”

  Braw – Good

  Burn – A stream

  Boabie – Penis

  Baw/ Baw bag – testicle/testes. A great insult!

  Boagin/Boafin/Minging – Dirty/smelly

  Cannae/can’nae – Can’t. “You cannae make it to the pub for pint?”

  Canny - Careful/cautious

  Clipe – tell tale. “You’re a wee clipe, so you are!”

  Crafty - Devious

  Deid – Dead.

  Did’nae – Didn’t

  Driech – Wet/miserable weather

  Eejit – Idiot

  Hogmanay – New Years Eve.

  Haud yer whest – Be quiet

  Havering – To talk a nonsense

  Jakey - A drunk

  Keek - A peek or look

  Ken - To know. “Y’ken?” = “You understand?”

  Lass - Girl

  Peely-wally – To be pale in colour

  Radge – Crazy.

  Messages – Shopping. Get the messages in = go shopping

  Sleekit - Sly

  Stoater – A great thing, as in cool

  Was’nae - Wasn’t

  Wee – Small.

  Ye – You.

  Scots Sayings

  What’s fur ye will no pass ye by. What’s meant to be will be.

  D’ye think ma heid’s buttoned up the back? Do you think I’m stupid?

  Givin’ it laldy. To do something with enthusiasm or gusto.

  Yer bums oot the windea! You’re talking rubbish. See also, talkin’ pure pish!

  Kallie’s Story

  By Donna Alam

  Copyright © 2017 Donna Alam

  Published By: Donna Alam

  Copyright and Disclaimer

  The moral right of this author has been asserted.

  All rights reserved. No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the express permission of the author

  This book is a work of fiction. Any reference to historical events, real people or real places are used fictitiously. All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 Donna Alam

  Chapter 1

  Kallie

  Going home for a funeral was never going to be nice.

  The last couple of years that my father was alive we didn’t see each other an awful lot, especially after I moved to California for college. Really though, it was to get out from under his influence. My dad was . . . how can I put this? Overbearing. Old fashioned. And unfortunately, not very nice to me. Oh, he provided a roof over my head and food in my belly, which he mentioned often enough. But he saw me as ungrateful. Too other. And he believed a daughter of his loins should be the paragon of virtue. A biddable child. She should go to university near home, and after a year or two in employment, she should dutifully marry. To a man of his choosing. That wasn’t going to happen. I’d known from a young age I wasn’t destined for his daughters future. I was living my life my way. Bugger what he said.

  Of course, that meant moving away from home. From London. From family. And I chose to move continents, not just states. I imagine the only reason I was allowed to go in the first place was because I’d be staying with distant relatives. No dorms for me. At least, to begin with. But moving away allowed me to create my own life. My father and I talked often, when he had some sermon to dictate, but that was the extent of our contact, save for the odd wedding or funeral when I could attend. Studies came first. He approved of that. Only now, I’m here for his funeral.

  It’s sad that we didn’t see eye to eye. Sad that we never had the connection. But that’s life, I suppose. Old grievances get in the way. Things that now seem petty and so insignificant now that he’s no longer here.

  I’m entirely unsure how I feel now that he’s gone. Obviously, I regret that I didn’t spend more time with him during his last years. That I didn’t try harder to be the daughter he wanted. But a piece of me is also relieved that finally, I can’t disappoint him anymore.

  I’d travelled back to London to support my mother, though my brother is already here, my sister, Dee, unable to travel from her home in the states due to a precarious pregnancy. He was as overbearing with her as he was me. And to our mother, too. As awful as it sounds, she might now have a chance to bloom, now that he’s no longer restricting her movements. I don’t know if I’m just being a bitch about it, but I couldn’t stay to watch her suffer. I suppose I’m bitter because I can’t have it out with him anymore.

  Not that I hadn’t tried.

  Addy, my brother, is three years older than me and the only one of our family who still lives in London. At thirty-one, he’d taken the bulk of the responsibility for dad’s passing; the legalities and practicalities, the temple arrangements; everything.

  ‘You should move back here, Kallie,’ Addy says, joining me at the window as I look out over the immaculate garden. The grass is perfectly cut. There are no weeds in the flower beds, just how dad liked it. His way. It seems apt that the house is in tip-top condition for his funeral. ‘You don’t have any reason to go back to Cali.’

  This isn’t the first time he’s mentioned it, but we can actually talk about it now that all the guests are gone and we are left to mourn in peace. Whatever that is. Mostly, I just feel empty.

  ‘Get lost,’ I say, taking a good look at him. He’s almost a spitting image of my dad with the same frowning countenance and brooding eyes. Fine lines are beginning to show around his eyes and I begin to wonder if he smiles much these days.

  ‘Come on, Kallie. Mum might need you. You can move home and help out.’

  ‘Around the home?’ I slide my hand onto my hip suddenly desperate to get into a pair of jeans and out of this sari. ‘How many college professors do you know who stay home to look after their mothers?’

  ‘She might want to sell the place, anyway.’ I don’t know if she’ll be able to maintain it the way dad would have wanted it, and I don’t know if she’ll have the heart to let it slide. There is so much of him in these walls, so much of the man that presided over us alll. I don’t know if she will ever feel free to do her own thing
without feeling like his memory was haunting the place. Looking over her shoulder, constantly telling her what she was doing wrong.

  Addy rolls his eyes. ‘It’s been in the family for years. You know she won’t.’

  I sigh, knowing that’s how it works in our family—we’re big on tradition and heritage. Obedience. Addy is the older brother, the first-born son. I want to tell him to sod off, but that’s not very seemly according to him. But if it’s so important to him, he can bloody well live here! Though part of me is superstitious. If he moves back in, he might turn into my father completely.

  It can be lonely in California, though I won’t admit it, even to myself. My bestie, Sadie, moved to London last year. Sometimes I feel like she’s taken my social life with her. But I am looking forward to seeing her this week. And meeting her hottie, Will. The James Bond type live-in boyfriend. Sometimes I hate being so far away from all my family and old friends. The people I grew up with. But I like my job and the people I work with. Plus, I’m building a life for myself out there.

  ‘Look, I might like being back in London now, but what about my life and job? Besides, I still have my PhD to think about. And what about Dee?’

  ‘You could finish that here. Schools are schools. And as for Dee, doesn’t she lift hours away, plus has a husband?’

  ‘And not all universities were created equal. I don’t want to lose what I’ve built. And as for Dee, I believe you were also at her wedding.’

  “You don’t have work, anymore, Kallie,’ Addy replies, ignoring the rest. ‘We’ll have so much money you can swim in it if you want to, after what dad left.’

  Even though it’s true, my heart sinks. The thought of not working doesn’t sit well with me. I don’t want to sit at home and do nothing with my life. I studied for a reason and I’m good at what I do. I prefer direction in my life. Besides, there’s no reason for me to come back to London. I can always visit, when it comes down to it.

  Dad had a textile factory which he sold last year, along with some other businesses. It’s sad that he didn’t really get a chance to enjoy his retirement.