Authors: Tarah Scott
His mouth covered hers, lips full and moist, and
hungry
. Fingers flexed on her shoulders. Holding tight with one hand, she grabbed his ass with the other and rubbed herself against his erection.
Already hard as steel.
This was the only way to dream. She backed him against the wall as he had her the last time—no. She wanted him, but she wouldn’t be rough. That part of the dream she would change.
Margot released his butt and shirt, and cupped his face. Slowly, she lengthened the kiss, moved languidly,
then
gently flicked her tongue against his lips. He opened and she slid inside to meet the warmth of his tongue. He groaned, and his tongue swept her mouth, then rolled around her tongue, sucking. He drew back and flicked the edge of her tongue with his.
Her breath caught as she envisioned the flick of that tongue on her clit, his mouth sucking,
the
mounting pressure as he teased—Margot shoved his tartan from his shoulder and began unbuttoning his shirt. She broke the kiss and dropped her gaze to the shaky fingers fumbling with the last button. It slipped from her fingers twice and she finally yanked it free. She pushed the fabric aside and came face to face with his bronze expanse of chest. This she wouldn’t forget.
She flattened her palms against warm flesh. His hands dropped from her shoulders as she gently raked fingernails over his nipples. The small pink buds hardened and her nipples pebbled in response. Tonight would end this strange reoccurring dream. Sadness tightened her chest.
He’s just a dream.
Why did the possibility of not seeing his brown eyes again bother her?
Margot wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body to his. “What do you say, sugar? We’ll make this a dream to remember?”
Despite the hard erection pressing into her belly, his arms remained at his sides. Was her psyche mired in some torturous cycle meant to keep her dream lover beyond her reach? Maybe Reverend Johnson had been right, and God did punish sinners. If she was going to burn in hellfire, it sure as hell wouldn’t be for mere sinful thoughts.
Margot lifted on tiptoes and traced the seam of his mouth with her tongue while slowly
undulating
her hips against him. His shaft pulsed. Now here was something worth facing the fire for. She ran moist lips along his jaw, neck, and down his chest where she flicked her tongue against a pebbled nipple. A groan reverberated through his chest. She closed her teeth around the hardened point.
He grasped her shoulders. “You play with fire, lass.”
Desire rocketed through her at the vibration of his deep voice. His soft burr was nothing like the clipped tones she’d heard from the locals.
She gave a low laugh and lightly grazed the nipple with her teeth as she pulled back. “Have you been talking to Reverend Johnson?” Of course he had. His response had been taken from her mind. What other responses could she project onto him? Margot reached between them and traced the rigid line of his erection through the wool kilt.
He sucked in a breath.
Yep.
Just as she’d imagined.
She leaned her forehead against his chest and looked down at her hand covering him.
“How about this?”
She pulled up his kilt to reveal the swollen shaft. Heat pooled between her legs.
How long could she wait? She wanted him badly.
Badly enough to fuck him and end the sweet torture forever?
Could she stop herself? With a forefinger, Margot traced a circle around the crown. The rod pulsed. She recalled the taste of him, sweet and salty. Margot trailed a finger over the tip
again,
felt the trickle of pre-cum coat the finger, then lifted it to her lips. She raised her gaze and held his eyes as she traced her lips with the sticky finger, then inserted it in her mouth and pulled it out through tight lips. His gaze sharpened.
Her pulse jumped.
He wants me.
No other man had ever said so much with a single look.
Except McNeil
.
Margot startled.
No.
She was here, now, with this man. She wrapped her hand around the rigid shaft and stroked from base to tip.
She lifted on tiptoes and whispered in his ear, “Touch me like you did that first night.
Gently now,” she gave him a light squeeze in demonstration, “not as rough as the night before last.
It was interesting, but—”
He seized her shoulders. “What are you saying? Ye were here two nights past?”
His cock slipped from her grasp and the kilt fell back to his knees. Damn it, the dream was getting away from her. She really needed to get the hang of this.
“Relax, sugar. If we don’t get it right this time, there’s always tonight.” She had planned on ending this now, but suddenly wasn’t sure.
“There will be no tonight,” he snapped, and swept her off her feet.
Margot threw her arms around his neck and hugged close to him. He smelled of sandalwood just as he had that first night. The comforting scent enveloped her like a warm blanket. She unexpectedly landed on the bed, him on top of her. His weight crushed her into the mattress. His belt buckle dug into her belly, but she didn't give a damn, and wrapped her arms around him. His cock pressed into her belly with promise of the long, hard ride that lay ahead. She arched into him.
“I will no' hurt you,” he murmured.
“I know.”
He threaded his long fingers through her hair and fanned the dark locks across the pillow. “Beautiful.”
Unexpected warmth rippled through her. Was she blushing? “I’m a sure thing, sugar. No need for talk of love.”
This time, her cheeks warmed. Damn, he hadn’t been talking about love. Why had she said that? Margot gave herself a mental shake. This was a dream. No need for embarrassment. No need for any emotion. They were going to have a damn good fuck,
then
she would wake up.
He leaned toward her and trailed moist kisses from ear to
throat,
then dragged one dress sleeve down her arm. His mouth closed over the areola through the fabric of the thin, lacy bra she wore. Pleasure threaded from nipple to the core between her legs. He rocked against her, his shaft hiking her skirt higher with each slow thrust. He suckled, tightening her clit with each torturous draw on her nipple.
Margot wrapped one leg around his thigh. “More.”
He groaned. She arched her hips, grazing the root of his cock with her swollen nub.
He is worth the fire
.
He shifted to the other nipple, flicked the tip with his tongue, then lifted himself onto elbows and yanked her skirt to her hips. He scooted down until he lay beside her hips.
Margot closed her eyes as he slipped a finger between the lace thong and her belly. Her flesh quivered when he moved downward, the finger tickling the curls before grazing her swollen sex and dipping into her moist heat. She arched into the digit. He penetrated deeper, drew out to the edge, then back in again as she thrust toward him. He flicked her pleasure point. She opened her eyes. His gaze was fixed on her curls as he thrust a forefinger into her and massaged her sensitive spot with a thumb. The erotic sight sent a shiver of desire through her.
His thrusts deepened and she quickened her movements. Pressure mounted between her legs. She closed her eyes and thrust in quick spurts, imagining his cock filling her as his finger did. Once he finger fucked her, she would ride him like the wild stallion he was, and come even harder. Pleasure radiated through her. God, she would—he abruptly shifted and covered her mound with his moist lips.
Margot cried out. She snapped open her eyes. His gaze met and held hers as he shifted between her thighs, lifting her legs over his shoulders, and settling between them. She couldn’t look away as his tongue swept inside her channel, then dragged the wet cream upward between her folds. He flicked,
then
sucked, drawing her out. Pressure built. He sucked harder. His tongue flicked faster. His fingers wrapped around her legs.
Climax rolled over her. He buried his mouth deeper in her curls as pleasure bowed her off the bed. Warmth spread through her. She could wrap herself around him forever.
White light flashed behind her eyelids and she fell off the edge.
Chapter Ten
Margot’s eyes snapped open. She gulped in air as the climax faded. Heart racing, she released a shaky breath and leaned back against the pillow. That climax was better than…hell, even better than the last. Her breathing slowed and her gaze fell on the picture of Castle Morrison. She studied the picture, shifting left as if doing so would somehow give her a different perspective on the structure. The renovated castle and picture were identical…almost.
She shivered, suddenly aware of the cold, and dropped her gaze to the fireplace. The log she had thrown on the embers had caught fire on the bottom, but died out before getting going. She hadn’t got the hang of banking a fire to keep it going. Cat had employees who made sure guest’s rooms stayed warm. Maybe she hadn’t assigned anyone to Margot’s room because she wasn’t a paying customer. No friendship had ever run truer. Margot glanced at the clock on the nightstand.
. She was due to meet Cat in half an hour. They were going to the outdoor market. After that, Cat had planned a tour of the dungeons,
then
Margot had a dinner date with McNeil.
Later, when everyone was in bed, she would go back to Cat’s office and get a look at those hidden files. Margot ignored the clenching of her stomach at memory of seeing Cat with Williams last night. She'd sacrificed too much— her job, maybe even her reputation—to let a case of the jitters stop her.
*****
Margot waited beside Cat, who discussed tomatoes with the owner of the vegetable stand at Stornoway’s open market. Dark clouds sat parked overhead, but the market buzzed with activity. Three dozen or so stands lined each side of the street. Most were local residents selling one or two types of vegetables or fruits to make a little extra money, with a few professional farmers scattered throughout the market. According to Cat, people came from all over the island to buy from the farmers. Margot breathed deep of the crisp air as Cat turned back to her.
“Let’s go.” Cat started forward through the crowded isle.
“Are tomato negotiations always that complicated?” Margot asked.
Cat grimaced. "You wouldn't believe how many we go through, and we'll need more once we're full up. I want at least three vegetable suppliers. If I depend on only one or two, they'll strong arm me. This keeps things friendly but competitive."
"You've really taken to the business life."
Margot couldn't deny her surprise. Cat had never displayed any talent, much less interest, in anything other than men. But that really hadn’t changed, had it? Despite appearances, men were the very thing Cat was interested in. Last night had proven that. Nausea turned Margot’s stomach. How had watching a killer fuck her next victim gotten her wet? How had that revived the dream about Colin Morrison—and what did the whole fucking thing say about her?
"I hope I'm not boring you by grocery shopping.” Cat paused at a stand with a variety of berries.
Margot halted beside her and realized her insides were shaking.
Cat started forward again. “I've just been so much busier than I thought I'd be with the renovations."
"No problem," Margot managed in an even voice. "I’m glad to see more of the island. I’m starting to understand the appeal." She thought of McNeil, and how they hadn't been in Stornoway two minutes before running into family. He was right. The island was like
Wilkinson
County
. Too much like
Wilkinson
County
.
"Why
Scotland
?”
Margot asked Cat.
“Why a castle?"