Kiltless In Carolina

by Ashantay Peters

  Her throat was dry but she managed to squeak out an answer. “Promise.”

  Her limbs shook as her gently turned her palms to meet then rapidly tied them with her stocking. Then he straddled her. Tracing his fingers over her forehead, he smoothed one eyebrow.

  His fingers slid over her cheekbones and brushed across her mouth, leaving tingles behind. Her breath caught as he trailed fingertips down her throat and across the aching buds of her breasts. His slow touches torched her, reducing her to liquid heat.

  His hands smoothed across her ribs and spiraled across her stomach. Her pussy clenched. Her hips jerked in response. He placed his palm against her mound. “Bad, bad girl.” His soft voice flowed over her like a physical caress. “You broke your promise. Did I tell you to move?”

  “But I—” Couldn’t help myself. Good thing he didn’t feel her clit twitch.

  The look he gave her from slit grey eyes caused her toes to curl against his command and her wishes.

  Graeme switched to a lounging position on his side next to her, his head supported with one hand. His breath brushed her ear.

  “Spread your legs.”

  His husky rumble acted like a soft pinch to her rapidly contracting nipples.

  She swung her legs slightly apart, their gazes tangled.

  “Wider,” he said.

  She complied, her stomach fluttering.

  His eyes still on her pussy he said, “Open your mouth.”

  “What? Why?”

  His gaze cut to hers. “Open. Now.” His eyes glittered. “You promised to submit.”

  She took one look at his heaving chest and opened her mouth. He placed his finger lightly on her tongue. “Suck me.” She did and fought the immediate need to lift her hips. Wiggle her butt. Twitch her nose. Anything to release the sudden overwhelming tension.

  Removing his finger out with a popping sound, he quickly inserted his digit into her pussy. And sent her temperature soaring. Perhaps it was his injunction against her movement that made every muscle, every ligament scream in protest.

  She panted with the effort of remaining motionless while his finger pressed inside her. Perspiration dotted her forehead and moistened her chest and behind her knees.

  Shit. So much for the adage “never let them see you sweat.” Maybe he wouldn’t notice?

  He licked the sweat from her forehead. “Getting a little warm?” His deep twilight colored eyes turned to midnight. “I’m glad you’re hot for me.”

  Hot? Hell would be comfortable compared to the juices creeping along her crack. Her face heated in a way she knew probably made her skin look purple.

  His tone dropped into the basement. “You deserve a reward, baby.” He knelt between her legs. “Swing your calves over my shoulders.”

  Happy to be released from her promise, Isla followed his direction. She strained her wrists against the knot, relieved when the bond loosened immediately, though still constricting her hands.

  “Damn, baby. You glisten down here like a lake at dawn. Want me to take care of you?”

  “Um…whatever you say.”

  “You learn fast.” He smiled, and his fingers combed through her curls. He gripped her hips and bent his head. His tongue swept across her pussy with long sweeps. He didn’t rush, making each slow stroke long and intimate, targeting her clit.

  She flexed her fingers, her arms still posed above her head.

  He used one hand to spread her folds. She wiggled, feeling vulnerable. Afraid to lose the little control she had left.

  He stopped, raising his head. His eyebrows lowered. “Stop moving.”

  She stilled. Her eyes widened.

  “I’m in control, remember?”

  She cleared her throat, but her answer still came out in a squeak. “Yes.”

  Their gazes clashed until she lowered her eyelids.

  He drew his fingertip along her bud, and she tensed to keep from bucking her hips. His hands held her immobile as he nibbled and licked.

  Heat flashed through her, and she held her herself still with effort.

  He inserted a finger, massaging tissue deep inside with the side of his stiff digit. Withdrawing his finger, he rubbed his fingertip across her folds, then nibbled and sucked her nub.

  Her heart pounded against her chest. Her muscles tightened with the stress of remaining still when she wanted to do anything but. Heat built and slashed through her in a wave.

  He fingered and tongued her pussy, massaging her inner walls. His other hand grasped her ass, and his finger vibrated while pushing against her anal ring.

  She let out a long moan. Her hips bucked against his invasion, even as her orgasm began in an intense pool of heat. Her pussy muscles contracted as she shuddered in release. She went limp, struggling to inhale.

  ****

  The blood in Graeme’s dick pounded along with his heartbeat. He’d gone into the role play not sure where it would lead. He’d easily fallen into a domineering role. Unsure what Isla really wanted, he’d decided to make this experience all she desired.

  He nuzzled her curls and licked her upper thighs. She shuddered again. He lowered her ass to the bed and gently removed her flaccid legs from his shoulders. Hands still tied and above her head, legs akimbo, and skin flushed, the picture provoked heart palpitations and hitched breath.

  He tried stuffing down the compelling image of seeing her sated this way in the future. His heart whispered, Why not? His brain chimed in with, She could be what you’ve needed.

  Untying her hands, he noticed she hadn’t made a move to shake off her binding. She opened her eyes, the green obliterated by enormous pupils. “Wow. I’ve heard about fucking someone’s brains out, but never knew what the words meant before. You were incredible.”

  See, he told his heart and brain. She’s only looking for a few thrills. I’m nothing more than a handy, randy dick. Fine. He’d take his fill and send her on her way.

  Chapter Nine

  “You’re welcome,” Graeme said.

  Isla knew from his cool tone she’d said something wrong. But what? Didn’t all guys want their prowess complimented?

  “’Scuse me a sec.” He rolled off the bed and sauntered to the bathroom.

  Her gaze followed the fascinating movement of his tight ass. Figured she’d screw her chances with the best man who’d ever tempted her to leave her morals—and her brains—behind. Really? Like you think he wants anything more after this weekend? Daft woman.

  He emerged rubbing his hand over his mouth. “I’ve got an extra toothbrush if you want. Blue.”

  She didn’t know why she thought he’d hurried to wipe her taste from his mouth, but that’s what came to mind. Combined with his continued chilly attitude, she figured he’d either gotten what he wanted or hadn’t, and couldn’t wait to get rid of her. Maybe he didn’t like women with kinky fantasies. Well, she could brush him off, too.

  Making her way to the sink, she shut the door with her foot and studied her reflection in the mirror. “You’re a chump,” she said softly. “Brush your teeth. Find Gran’s pin.” She forced down the tears filling her eyes. “You don’t need the heartache.” Brushing her hair back from her face, she added one more directive. “Get dressed and go. Even if you have to walk all the way to the campground.”

  Mind made up, she rinsed off and wrapped herself in two of the small rectangles of rough material the hotel called bath towels. When she reentered the main room, Graeme had slid on a pair of boxers and sat in a chair sucking his index finger.

  “Found your pin.” He opened his fist and gran’s gift lay on his palm.

  “Really?” Her heart flopped. “Where was it?”

  “My sporran. I saw a reflection glinting off the horsehair.”

  She dropped to her knees in front of him and took the jewelry. “Thank goodness. I didn’t know what I’d tell Gran if she asked again.”

  His proximity and essence was overpowering. Heat spread in a flash, jumping the narrow space between them. His pupils turned
black. The heady scent of his sex reached her nostrils. She felt her resolve to leave weaken. Her hand inched toward his waistband.

  He caught her wrist. “I’m tired. Not up for another round right now.”

  Her face heated but she felt cold inside. His words were fine on the surface, but like a glacier, a larger mass existed unseen. Whatever she’d said, meaning to give him a compliment, had iced whatever they had going for them.

  She stumbled to her feet without touching him or the chair he inhabited. “I…ah, thanks for the toothbrush. I hope I used the right one. Blue, you said?”

  He nodded, his jaw tight. Make that one up-tight muscled body slanted away as if her contact would defile him. Chin up, his glance slid to the side.

  She sensed an invisible gulf and mentally grappled for a reason their intimacy had eroded. Abruptly, she sickened of trying to read him. He’d made it clear he wasn’t looking for anything other than a night or two of jungle jumping sex. They’d played out a few fantasies. Their escapades were mutual. Why should his sudden iceberg impression hurt her feelings? Make her feel a little dirty? Better to get out now before the scene deteriorated further.

  “Would you prefer me to leave? If you don’t want to drive me back, I can catch a cab. I might meet someone headed back to the grounds in the bar downstairs.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Sure. I’ll give you a ride.” He snorted. “Another one.”

  Her breath stuck in her throat. She considered asking him for answers, but did the stick up his ass really matter? He was right. They’d both gotten off. Time to leave.

  ****

  Shit. Did she have to look good even while getting dressed? Removing her clothes and tossing her onto the bed again held way too much temptation.

  He bit his lip. He’d been burned by a user before. No sense letting Isla get close. She’d use him and lose him. Hell, she already had, sounding cool and composed after he’d fulfilled her fantasy. The fantasy that had left him simultaneously aroused and drained. He’d planned to lay her as often as he could get it up, but the effort of pretending he wasn’t pissed off was beyond him.

  Shaking his hair behind his shoulders, he found his leather tie and restrained his wavy mop. Returning her to the grounds then hitting the hotel bar sounded like a plan.

  If she’d started a conversation, asked him what bit his butt, he’d answer. Any indication she cared about more than his prick and he’d explain. Sure, they wouldn’t see each other after this weekend, but he liked her enough to want a better ending to their time together.

  Isla’s cynical sounding comment about their bed play smacked of his ex, except Cait wanted to use him for his connections, his status as a musician or anything else he could offer, rather than his sexual abilities. Cait would have preferred to avoid sex altogether. Well, at least sex with him. He’d seen too late that she used intimacy as a tool, a way to reel him in, keeping him jumping to serve, worrying he’d never deserve her favor. Meanwhile, she’d fucked the ginger haired bastard in at least one linen closet.

  Yep. Should have followed his inclination to avoid the Games and any girl with Mc or Mac in her family name. What a fool, getting suckered by a feisty, dark-haired witch with a body a Sidhe Prince would crave.

  He waited for her approach, even slowing his motions as he dressed. Nothing. Tugging his shirt over his head, he stuffed it in his waistband and snagged his keys. “You ready?”

  “Yes.”

  Jesus H. Had she answered in a more clipped voice, he’d be checking his balls to ensure they remained attached.

  He held her door, watching as her long, slim legs disappeared inside his vehicle. She’d felt so right wrapping her limbs around him. Heat slid up his spine.

  “Are you feeling all right? You don’t have a fever, do you? If you’re sick, I’ll take a cab.”

  Oh, he was sick, all right. Sick of picking the wrong damn women. “I’m fine.” Rounding his vehicle, he slid in. He played with his keys for a moment, looking for a way to salvage a scene he wasn’t sure he wanted to save.

  “Who was she?”

  Isla’s quiet inquiry shook him. “What?”

  “The woman who stomped your heart. Don’t think I’m the one. We haven’t known each other all that long.”

  He knew she was right, but in a sense also wrong, and felt his anger build. Who did she think she was, to assume she could read him so easily? Sure, the woman next to him had captured his imagination, and he’d thought he’d begun to know her, too. Well, at least he’d thought he’d understood her personality until she’d made clear her sole interest in him was the things he could do for her body.

  Shit. Men did the same to women every day. He’d told her he wanted a hook-up for the weekend. Nothing more. Not her fault he’d started rethinking their connection. He must be off his head, thinking he could be something more than her rebound guy just because he’d sensed a link. They’d had sex so of course they’d had a bond of sorts. Why read anything more, like trust and respect into an interaction limited to the physical? Screw this.

  Time to stop whining, take her back to her family and find something else to do until he left tomorrow afternoon. Now that he’d slaked his sexual edge he could take his time and find a woman who didn’t mash all his buttons. Until then, perhaps he should enlighten Ms. Fire and Ice.

  “Why should I tell you anything about my past?”

  “You mean you heard me? You took long enough to answer.” She snorted and then looked out the side window before turning back. “Forget I asked.”

  His temper flared. “The woman your ginger-haired bastard left you for is Cait. My ex.”

  She stared. “Damn.”

  Yeah, damn.

  ****

  His revelation about their mutual exes tossed her for a loop-de-loop big and twisted enough to headline any amusement park. Had Graeme deliberately targeted her to get back at the blonde skank? Or for some other obscure reason known to him alone? No, he’d come on to her before knowing her ex’s identity.

  “Where were you? She was at my party but you weren’t. I’d have remembered. Why didn’t you accompany her? Maybe she wouldn’t have seduced my fiancé.”

  He stared straight ahead, his jaw resembling the granite making up the mountains behind them. “I’m sure that wasn’t their first night.”

  “Oh.” She reviewed the way Scott and Cait had looked when she’d found them together. He was right. They’d looked practiced, in sync.

  Her thoughts skittered from that sorry night, turning to the persistent mystery of Graeme’s behavior shift, and her instinctive need to escape his presence. Cripes, could this ride take any longer? She didn’t know if she should ask Graeme for clarification or leave the wounded bear alone. Her palms itched to soothe his anger but her brain said “hands off.” Given her anger had continued building, she decided to stay quiet.

  When they arrived at the grounds, she unbuckled her seat belt and turned. Tucked her hair behind her ears and sighed. “Look, I—”

  “It’s been fun,” he interrupted.

  His tight jaw and narrowed eyes gave her an answer, though not to the question uppermost in her mind.

  “Yeah. Thanks for, uh, everything.”

  He shut off the engine and reached for his door handle.

  Oh, no. Him making like a gentleman was the last thing she needed. She opened her door and placed one foot on the pavement before he could get out. “You don’t have to worry about seeing me again this weekend, or ever, really. I’ll stay out of your way.”

  She disembarked and leaned in preparatory to shutting the door. Their gazes tangled. “I meant what I said. You were incredible.”

  Shutting the door, she turned and hurried away without looking back. She walked with her head held high though her throat was sandy and her vision blurred. Assholes. Men were all freaking, unintelligible assholes.

  She heard his vehicle drive off and allowed her shoulders to slump. What had gone wrong? They’d had a fragile connection, a bond
that may have developed into something more than sex. And then what? She didn’t even know where he lived. He could be an itinerant musician. A user.

  Her mother would be all over a tear-stained face. She had to pull herself together. Isla stopped at the bathhouse and rinsed her face with icy water. When she turned onto the narrow road leading to their camper, she stopped dead. Two security officers stood next to her dad’s car. Lights from their vehicle spotlighted her father running his fingers through his hair.

  Had something happened to Gran? She’d lost the damn pin and who knew what bad something had happened. And all her fault. Further thoughts were eclipsed by panic; she ran to the small group.

  “Dad, what’s wrong? It’s not Gran, is it? Tell me everyone is okay?”

  Her father wrung his hands, and the gesture gave her pause until he said, “Not Gran. Officers, this is my daughter. You’ll want to speak with her about the theft.”

  “Theft? I don’t understand. Was my car broken into?”

  “No, miss. We’re here about the camper.”

  “Camper? I don’t understand. Dad?”

  He looked at her with a mixture of chagrin and distress on his face. “Sweetie, I’m afraid someone’s taken your camera.”

  Her stomach rolled so strongly, she thought she would vomit. One of the officers supported her with an arm around her waist. “No. The camera is my livelihood.”

  “Sweetie, I’m insured. We’ll get your camera replaced.”

  “You don’t understand.” She noted his increased anguish and shut her mouth. He’d never comprehend that while the equipment could be replaced, she’d never get the photos back. Normally she ejected the photo card before stowing the camera, keeping the card in a separate, safe place. She hadn’t removed the card before her parents had grabbed her bag tonight. The photos of Graeme piping in the mist, of her Gran marching in the Tartan Parade, her parents exchanging a fond look over breakfast. Gone. All gone.

  Worse, the opportunity she had of winning the annual Highland Games Photo Contest had disappeared with the thief. She couldn’t enter the contest, meaning no free advertising for her business if she’d won or even placed as a finalist.