by Anna Durand
He eradicated my thoughts with his supple lips on mine and the velvety swipes of his tongue. Determined fingers kneaded my ass, pushing me forward into his waiting erection. I hooked a knee around his thigh, desperate to expose my flesh to him. He rubbed his hard-on into my cleft, and shocks of pleasure ricocheted through me, propelling a rush of cream that soaked my sex and my panties. My jeans, his kilt, they barred me from what I craved with a blistering need.
The Scot dipped his head to my breast and swallowed my nipple through my clothing, sucking it hard and fast. I bowed my back and clutched his head to my chest. My head lolled against the cool wall, and I reveled in the sensations, in the natural high brought on by hormones and lust and the dampness of his mouth saturating my shirt and bra.
"More," I pleaded, my voice so throaty I hardly recognized it as my own. "Oh God, please, more."
With a raspy growl, he gathered me in his arms and carried me into the living room. With heavy-lidded eyes, I glimpsed a pool table upholstered in crimson felt and a sofa with chairs arranged in front of it, one of the chairs upholstered in the same crimson as the pool table. I caught sight of French doors and a terrace outside, but then my Scot set me on my feet behind the red armchair and, with his hands on my hips, urged me to lean back into the chair.
A gauzy white curtain shielded a floor-to-ceiling window in front of me—until he moved between my body and the wall. His erection tented his kilt, though dammit, not enough for me to see what lay beneath it.
He caged me to the chair's back with his hands at either side of me, kissing me again, kissing me like he'd die without my breaths feeding into him through our fused mouths. His hands on my hips, he tugged me into his hardness and compelled me to arch into him. I clamped my hands on the chair, in need of an anchor, my knees wobbly and my tummy fluttering even as the weight of desire settled low in my belly. He nibbled at my lower lip. I went boneless against him, grateful for the chair that prevented me from falling to my knees at his feet.
An image flared in my mind, of me kneeling before him, naked and willing. Heat lightning ripped through me, and my knees threatened to buckle.
He skated his lips along my jaw.
"Want ye naked," he breathed into my ear. "Need to bury myself inside yer sweet little body."
Oh yes, please. I couldn't utter the words, speechless from a heady rush that overpowered my senses. Maybe I should've been shocked by how badly I wanted to do this, but I'd skidded straight past reason into a crushing need for his cock inside me.
His tongue penetrated my mouth, hot and deep and demanding, while his hands worked at his shirt, fumbling to unhook the buttons. I pushed his hands away to take over the task, frantic to speed through this part and get to the good stuff. With my eyes closed, mindless from his kiss, I freed the buttons without any conscious thought for what I was doing. When I'd freed the last button, he shrugged out of the shirt.
Both his hands lunged under my shirt, whisking it up my skin. Cool air set off a flurry of goose bumps as he peeled his lips away for only a second to pull the shirt over my head. He unzipped my jeans and stripped them off me along with my panties, without even a hesitation in his ravishing of my mouth—until he inclined his head, as if to latch onto my nipple.
His brow furrowed, then smoothed out, his attention riveted to the twenty-dollar bills sheltered between my breasts, inside my bra. A slight smile curved his lips as he hooked one finger inside my bra to pull it out a smidgen, peeking into the valley between my breasts. He raised his head to lift one brow at me.
I shrugged. "Don't like to carry a purse in crowded places."
Amusement crinkled his eyes and dimpled his cheeks. He plucked out the wad of cash and tossed it onto the table beside the chair, then looped his arms behind me to unhook my bra.
The last shred of my clothing crumpled to the floor. I stood naked before a stranger, my ass against the back of a plush armchair, every inch of me exposed to the air and his molten gaze.
He took one step back. His eyes drank me in, his tongue moistened his lips.
My gaze landed on his chest, and my jaw dropped. Holy mackerel. Acres of mouthwatering male flesh had been sculpted into rigid lines of muscle, from his impressive biceps and pecs down to his exquisite six-pack abs. A trail of fine, tawny hairs dusted his skin, tapering down toward his groin. And there…
The kilt still obscured my view.
He unfastened the leather belt that secured the kilt. With a swift tug, he shed the garment. The plaid fabric fell into a heap on the rug.
I pulled in a shaky breath, my legs trembling again at the sight of his nude body, the full expanse of him revealed at last. Darker hairs dusted his powerful thighs, but my gaze inexorably gravitated to the region between his thighs.
Oh. My. God.
His engorged penis swayed in front of him, curving up toward his belly, the head glistening with a rosy blush. I marveled at the long, thick shaft and the sleek skin unblemished by even a single vein. His cock jumped, as if my attention excited him. I envisioned his length impaling me, filling my body to the hilt, and the thought of it stole my breath. Had I picked the right guy for a one-nighter or what?
The Scot stretched out his hand, fingers bent into his palm, and hovered it an inch from my chest. He touched his middle finger to my breastbone. His tongue darted out to lick his lower lip, and his dick twitched. With that solitary finger, he traced a line down my breastbone onto my belly.
My breaths shortened into soft pants.
His gaze snapped to mine, pupils blown. His breaths grew labored.
That finger dipped into my navel, then moved downward until it grazed my mound.
Clinging to the chair, I bucked my hips toward his finger.
He groaned, long and low and carnal, then scooped me up and strode back to the hall, through a doorway into a spacious bedroom. With amazing strength and dexterity, he hugged me to him with one arm while he tossed the covers off the king-size bed with his other hand. He laid me down on the mattress on my back, my head cushioned by a fluffy pillow.
I couldn't resist frisking my palms over the satiny white sheets. My motel was decent enough, but this place was a whole other universe. Gossamer curtains veiled the windows, and a tall mirror showed me a full-frontal view of my own body sprawled across the length of the mattress—as well as a side view of the highly aroused man beside the bed. I got a peek at his backside, at his taut buttocks and the flowing lines of his back muscles.
Seeing myself in the mirror, I had the inexplicable impulse to rearrange my body so my Scot could get a better view. The impulse proved irresistible, and I stretched my arms above my head to caress the wooden headboard. I sloped my back up just enough to boost my breasts, with my nipples jutting toward the ceiling. My knee bent, I spread my thighs.
He hissed in a breath, his eyes narrowed to slits. A drop of moisture beaded on the tip of his penis.
I writhed on the sheets to make my breasts jiggle.
The Scot ripped open the top drawer of the dark-wood dresser beside the bed. He snagged a condom packet, slammed the drawer shut, and sheathed his length faster than I'd ever seen a man accomplish the task. Dressed in nothing but a condom, he towered over me with his lips parted and his erection waving.
Wriggling my butt, I laid my hands on the sheets at either side of my body.
He scraped his tongue across his bottom teeth, inside his lip.
I gave him my best seductive smile. "Come and get me."
The man growled the way he had earlier, eying me like a predator sizing up his prey. "Yer the finest work of art I ever laid eyes on. A masterpiece of sensual beauty."
Work of art? Masterpiece? Man, this guy knew how to talk to a woman.
And I wanted him like I'd never wanted anyone.
He climbed onto the bed on all fours to position his body over me, our faces aligned.
I fanned my palms over his broad chest.
Arms bent, he devoured me with his mouth, his tongue raking over
mine, licking at the roof of my mouth, swirling around my tongue until I was breathless and burning for him. Each greedy swipe of his tongue wound a coil of need tighter in my belly. Though we'd kissed and kissed and kissed for the entire ride to his hotel, that experience paled compared to this moment. Possessed by a wild urge, I closed my hand around his shaft.
He choked back a groan, his mouth glued to mine, his tongue faltering only for a second.
I lost myself in the sensation of tongues on tongues, teeth gnashing against lips, his hand on mine as it palmed his cock. He grasped my hip, pulling me closer, and still our mouths ravaged each other.
I stroked my hand up and down his shaft.
Propped on one arm, he grasped my hand and eased it away from his erection. While I made a disappointed noise, he lowered his body onto the bed to lie on his side with an arm above my head and his front snug against me. His hard arousal prodded my hip as he laid his free hand on my belly, skating his palm down, down, down to the thatch of hairs between my thighs. I clenched my fingers in the sheets as he toyed with those hairs, making me squirm. The second my legs opened, he delved his fingers between my slick folds.
His fingers glided up and down my cleft, while the heel of his hand settled over my clit. As his gaze pored over me, the golden glow of the bedside lamp transformed his eyes into a shade of dark honey. His fingers tormented my swollen flesh, and the heel of his hand chafed my nub. I clenched his biceps. His fingers began to pet me with sure strokes, faster and harder, a relentless onslaught of pleasure that had me digging my nails into his arms.
"Ah!" The exclamation burst out of me as I bucked my hips up, half-crazed for the release building inside me, the pressure almost unbearable. "Please, oh God, please."
He thrust one finger inside me, then another.
My sex tightened around his fingers, as desperate for him as I was, and my body tensed.
The heel of his hand kneaded my clit in quick, rough circles. His fingers burrowed in and pulled out, scraping my cleft with each movement. He sank his fingers inside me to the last knuckle, kinking them to caress me in a secret spot.
I cried out, thrashing under his hand.
He forged his tongue deep inside, its thrusts synchronized with the motion of his fingers.
An orgasm detonated inside me, stunning in its power, robbing me of my voice. I clung to him, my mouth wide on mute cries, my nails scratching his skin as I clawed for an anchor amid the crashing waves of ecstasy. He watched my face, his features tight, shifting his fingers to rub my clit mercilessly, milking every last ounce of pleasure from my body.
He brushed stray hairs from my face. "Ye come like a volcano, so wild and explosive. It's…maddening."
I felt my brows scrunch. Maddening?
He withdrew his hand, wiping his fingers on the sheets, and smiled at my confusion. "I meant it's maddening how much it arouses me, seeing you come this way."
"Oh." I couldn't muster any more words than that. What he'd done to me, the sheer power of my climax, it had vaporized my ability to think.
He ran his tongue over my bottom lip. "We're not done yet."
Chapter Three
Not done yet? I'd realized as much, but the thought of what he might do to me next set my head to spinning again. Already, he'd rendered me defenseless, a willing slave to his desires.
Reclined on his side, he raked his gaze over my body, admiring me with an intensity that made warmth bloom in my belly, sliding lower and lower. He rested his hand on my collarbone, his fingers fanned over my throat.
Eyes half-closed, I absorbed every sensation. The silken texture of the sheets. The weight of his hand. The draft kissing my skin.
He smoothed his hand down my breastbone, over one breast and then the other, rolling my nipples between his thumbs. Goose bumps dappled my arms, and a delicious shiver sizzled along my skin. He frisked his hand down to my belly and circled his palm around my navel. I fought to catch my breath, my tummy rising and falling with every labored inhalation. His eyes followed the path of his hand, and his lips had compressed with a deep concentration on his task. That hand ventured lower, but when it dipped within millimeters of my mound, he diverted his track to my hip and cupped it, his thumb massaging the hollow.
My lids flickered and closed. I wanted nothing more than to immerse myself in the feel of his hand exploring my body and the lazy arousal it engendered in me.
Sighing, he skated his hand down my thigh, over my knee, along the side of my calf and down past my ankle. His fingers danced over the top of my foot and around to the sole. The delicate touch of his fingertips tickled in the most erotic way, and I squirmed with pleasure. He rubbed my sole with deft yet leisurely strokes, as if he planned to spend all night on this languorous exploration, as if he planned on memorizing every contour of my body.
He shifted his hand to my other foot, lavishing the same attention on its tender underside.
I exhaled a breathy moan, every muscle in my body slackening, even as my body readied.
The lusty man beside me coasted his hand up the inside of my leg until he reached my inner thigh. His longest finger grazed the outer folds of my sex.
He pulled in a long breath, groaning with profound satisfaction. "Yer scent drives me mad, it's like whiskey and honey and musk." He combed his fingertips through the curly hairs of my mound. "The scent of lust."
The hunger in his voice made me open my eyes.
His head poised over my sex, he swept his hand down my leg and glided it back up slowly.
I fisted my hands in the sheets.
With his hand curled around my thigh, he pressed his lips to my belly. His mouth left a damp warmth on my skin as he kissed his way up to my breasts, where he paused to nuzzle my cleavage.
I flattened my hands on his back, where the muscles rippled beneath my palms.
He darted his tongue out to moisten the peak of one nipple.
"Yes," I murmured, my fingers sinking into his flesh.
My Scot swallowed my nipple and swirled his tongue around the tip. A jolt of pleasure shot down my body, from my breast straight into my sex. He released my nipple, only to latch onto the other to repeat his ministrations. The cool air on my damp breast made the nipple pucker, and combined with his mouth on the other breast, worked me into a fervor once more. I plowed my hands into his hair.
He let go of my nipple and lay beside me as he had before, his head near mine and his hand on my hip. He drew me snug against him, rolled me onto my side, and tucked my head under his chin. He slid his hand off my hip, down to my thigh, lifting my leg to expose my core.
I stretched my arm over his torso to hold him close.
He hooked my leg over his, spreading his palm on my ass, and pulled me toward his erection. His shaft brushed my flesh.
My pulse thundered in my ears.
He penetrated me with one slow, smooth stroke, consuming me with his cock until it seemed I couldn't stretch any further.
"All right?" he rumbled in my ear.
I buried my face against his neck. "Yes. Don't stop."
"Willnae."
He gripped my behind as he began a measured rhythm, his pace unhurried, his shaft plunging inside and then abandoning my body, over and over until I was clinging to him and whimpering against his neck. His muscles rippled around me in time with the movements as the firm length of him glided in and out of my swollen flesh. He blew out a breath with each thrust and sucked in air each time he pulled out.
I locked my leg tighter around his, pawing at his back, wordlessly begging for more.
As if he understood my desperation, he rolled us both over so I lay flat on my back with his body above me, held up on one straight arm. Never wavering in his momentum, he ran his free hand up and down my side, from my ribs down to my thigh. He bent his supporting arm to lower his head near mine until our foreheads touched. His eyes, so close to mine, enraptured me. I rolled my hips up into each of his thrusts, opening my legs more with my knees drawn up to bracket
him.
"Ah, lass," he groaned. "Come for me now, come for me again."
Hands bolted to his arms, I fought a losing battle for breath and sanity. "Faster, please, faster and harder."
Bracing himself on both elbows, he pulled his hips back and slammed into me with so much force my body bowed up and my mouth fell open on a strangled cry.
"More," I pleaded.
He raised onto straight arms, driving into me again and again, faster and faster, his hips pumping and his cock pounding into me like an out-of-control machine. Our bodies slapped together with each punishing thrust, eliciting a wet sucking sound from my sex. I fastened my legs around him and gripped his arms like I'd fly off into space without him to ground my body. He grunted with every lunge, sweat slicking his skin.
And I came for him.
Every muscle snapped tight for an instant, then the orgasm seized me and my head thrashed on the pillow. My frantic cries spurred him to unleash a hoarse shout as he pummeled my sex once, twice more. He threw his head back and roared.
His release pulsated inside me, and I came harder.
Two more thrusts and he was spent, collapsing onto the bed alongside me. Between gasping breaths, he said, "Thank ye for that."
Ohhh-kay. I'd never been thanked after sex before. Was it a good thing or a bad thing? If he plunked a couple hundred-dollar bills on the table and sauntered out of here, I'd hunt him down and—
"Relax," he said, cradling me to his body, frisking his hand over my back. "It's a compliment. You are a passionate, spirited woman."
"Thank you." I snuggled into him with my face against his neck, enjoying the lovely afterglow of scorching-hot sex. "This was unexpected, but I'm glad you asked me to stay with you tonight."
"I'm glad too." He threaded his fingers through my hair and kissed the top of my head. "A pleasant surprise. Most of my lovers aren't as enthusiastic as you."
His lovers? Plural? I drew my head back to look at him. "Are you saying you do this kind of thing a lot?"
