Her Insatiable Scot (12 page)

She wrapped her hand on the head of his penis. Satisfaction pooled in her stomach when the muscles on his torso jerked.

“Aye,” he murmured but stepped back. “You get them to stop listening to reason, to fear and anything that stands in the way of taking your score.”

She lifted on her toes, making sure their sex pressed intimately against each other. He groaned, cupped her ass.

“I don’t care,” she said slowly, hoping he’d lose reason.

She nipped at his chin. Stubble had started to grow there. The spiky hairs grazed her sensitive lips. This close the whiskers were a dark auburn shade. He tilted his head down, his gaze fixed on her mouth. She rained kisses over his jaw and cheek, curling her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Keri.” He said her name like an epithet. He shut his eyes and stilled. His grip dug into her waist.

She pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth. When he didn’t turn his head, she traced his bottom lip with her tongue. Her heart thudded, while she waited for him to make the next move, but he could have been cut from granite.

He wouldn’t give her what she wanted until she said it. How bad did she want him in her bed? What ground would she lose? More importantly, would the woman she pretended to be say it without blinking? Yes, she would. His past was in the past. Right now he was a man tortured by passion. He was pushing his lover to be just as open and willing to do anything and everything without shame. Everything outside of bed was complicated and confusing. This was simple. Her sex felt swollen and wet already. She ached. Nothing they’d done could come close to what they could do. Her stomach clenched, her fingers trembled.

She couldn’t look him in the eye or raise her voice, so she leaned forward to his ear and whispered, “Fuck me, Tristan.”

He made a soft growling noise. “You whispered it.” Tristan sounded both aroused and angry.

She tried to force the words out again, louder, but they couldn’t get past her brain screaming to never say them again. Her common sense questioned what she was doing, naked in a shower with him. How in the hell did she let herself get talked into this in the first place? Not just him and her naked, but pretending to be married.

“The water’s getting cold,” she said, loud and clear.

Concern broke through the stone. “Wrap your legs around my waist.”

“What?”

“You’re thinking again.”

Since he was right and thinking only served her best outside the bedroom, she hitched her legs up and he did the rest of the work. He didn’t bother to turn the shower off either, just stepped out and headed for the bed. Heat still simmered between them but that wasn’t new with him. The moment he grasped her hand in the parking lot she’d felt an electrifying current that warmed her from the inside.

And now his body curved into hers as he laid her on the bed. He felt fabulous. Her sex dampened more and not from the shower, but already her brain geared up for asinine minutiae. He grabbed her hips, a possessive hold and…

How many bones were in a hand?

“Twenty-seven,” he murmured, turning his face into the crook of her neck. His fingertips feathered over her collarbone. “Only two of these. If I follow the bone up to the curve of your neck and right where your artery lies…” He sucked, hard.

She moaned, grasped his shoulders. A tingle shot straight down over her nipples, her stomach and right to her sex. He softened the hold but dragged his mouth up to her ear, letting go with a soft kissing sound.

“How many times would I have to do that before you come?” he asked.

She started to argue. “Just because—”

“Aye. You will. Right on my dick.” He propped himself up with both elbows, spreading his legs and opening hers. “You’re going to squeeze me tight and hard until you come. You’re going to come until I’m drenched with you.”

She arched up her hips to meet a phantom thrust. His laugh was dark and seductive. Tristan shifted, though not enough to give their skin any breathing room. Not a complaint from her, only an observation. She glanced up in time to see him swat his luggage to the floor.

He rose between her legs. His cock pulled down from the heavy weight of his erection. One hard thrust was all she needed. And then another and another. She blinked, finally seeing what he’d taken out of his luggage. Tristan rolled on a condom in one swift motion. He should have done it slowly, from base to tip. He’d looked smooth aside from the veins that strained against the skin. He was beautiful in such a male way.

She bit the corner of her lower lip and then blinked because no other thoughts wanted to take hold. All her focus was on this man and what he planned to do to her next. The anticipation buried any nerves. His scent mingled with the soap and her. If only she could bottle that smell. She could work her finger over her clit until she came with a sob while drinking in that scent. She felt bewitched.

Tristan pulled back farther until he stood at the edge of the bed. He grasped her ankle. Maybe during sex was the only time he didn’t smile or try to charm. His expression hardened into a fierce concentration. Donning the condom must have been the equivalent of putting on his battle gear.

“On your stomach.” Lust thickened his burr.

The sound of his need washed over her. He let go of her ankle long enough to let her get settled on her stomach. She started to spread her legs and arch her ass up but he grasped her thighs, slid his hands up over her butt and straddled her from behind. The thick fingers of one hand grazed her back, the sides of her breasts, and finally rested at her tailbone. She turned her head to the left but couldn’t see him.

“I’ve only teased you. Let’s see how wet you are.” Tristan’s weight shifted closer to her calves but his finger sought the warmth and wetness between her legs. His knuckles rested along her ass, but that single finger penetrated, a welcome relief.

The comforter became an anchor; she moaned into it and fisted her hands.

He tsked. “Not wet enough.”

She whimpered, because that was a lie. The moment she stepped into the hotel she’d been more than ready. The wipe-down in the shower hadn’t changed her predicament. The truth was he breathed, smiled, talked and she wanted him. All he had to do was watch her cross a room. No extra fantasies required. How could it not be enough? But heat had already started to crawl up her spine, wrapping around to her stomach and chest. She panted out soft little moans.

His finger glided in and out, a tease, almost a taunt because he denied her what she craved. She bit into the comforter in an attempt to halt the wanton words that itched in the back of her throat and threatened to spill out in her next moan.

Tristan wouldn’t relent on this torture, no matter how his dick strained and begged for relief. His cock pressed against her thigh, a steel reminder that he could and would make her come until she was soaking wet. Her sex tightened around his finger; he pressed it deeper and held still. He wouldn’t give, and the knowledge provided something akin to relief.

She turned her face away from the cover. “T-Tristan, it’s not your finger I want.”

“No. It’s not.”

Her sex felt so swollen and achy. She licked her lips, sure he’d penetrate her now, but he cupped her ass with both hands and his weight shifted lower on her legs. He replaced his finger with his tongue.

She couldn’t see him fully but could catch a glimpse of his biceps flexing as he tongue fucked her. His breath was hot, but his tongue felt soft and rough at the same time. He dipped it into her sex, down to her clit, and did it again in a steady rhythm. She bit into the comforter again but it couldn’t hide the strangled moans.

If and when she could think again, she’d be sure to tell him it felt wonderful, but it wasn’t… “Right there. Don’t stop,” was muffled but he must have heard the plea in her tone, because he fucked her faster, stiffening his tongue. In. Out. Against her clit. In. Out.

She buried her face into the mattress, too mindless to be embarrassed about the keening moan. She shuddered and gripped harder, reaching for that familiar euphoria from an orgasm. She let it drag her under. Her climax slammed into her and she moaned louder. When the world stopped being fuzzy around the edges, she could still feel his breath against her left thigh.

“More?” he asked.

How much would it take for him to break? Probably somewhere between how she felt now and on the brink of death from coming too much. “Fuck me,” she begged.

The words weren’t anywhere close to a whisper, but the shift between them was soundless. He took the same position to straddle her thighs, but he pressed his cock to her sex. The broad tip nudged at her entrance and nothing could compare to the full-body tingle that rushed through her. She tilted her hips up to take in more.

He hissed, sank deeper and pulled out enough to make her whimper. He chuckled. “Oh, no, Keri. I’m not done. You promised to come on my cock, remember?”

The warmth of his hands settled on the arch of her back. He rolled his hips, sinking deeper, but not quite all the way. He felt thick and hard. She was wet enough for him to enter her fully, but his hips weren’t snug against her ass.

He lightly tugged her waist down until it felt like she could be in control of how much she took. She raised her hands above her head, balled her hands into the comforter again and pushed back. Her ass seated flush against his thighs. She tried to catch her breath. Her body wasn’t yet used to him, so full the sensation kissed pain but the pleasure reached out to her. She pulled away, pushed back again and was rewarded with the soft sound of their skin slapping together.

Tristan shifted more of his weight onto her back. “You forgot something else, lass.”

She could barely remember her name. “Yeah?”

“You wanted me to fuck you,” he said and then thrust hard into her. Once he got a rhythm, the spring of the bed worked with him. The headboard banged against the wall in the same staccato beat.

Heat enveloped her chest because he was so deep and pounding into her so hard. The buildup of this orgasm didn’t feel remotely the same. More intense. It seared through her limbs. All she could do was feel. His hands on her waist, a steady grip. Sweat dripping down her spine. Her breath panting out.

Within a few more punishing, delicious strokes, Keri realized it wasn’t an orgasm but just the position and his girth that left her mindless. He quickened his pace, never losing that deep stroke. A long pull started in her stomach and she curled into it. She tightened as the heat in her chest overwhelmed her. She let out a soft sob as her entire body shuddered. He stilled behind her. He made a sound of appreciation and rolled his hips.

She surprised herself, because she didn’t think anything other than a moan could come out, but Keri laughed. “You sound so damn proud of yourself.”

He grasped her elbows, unstraddled her legs and spread them instead. “I’m the first man to make you come with penetration. Of course I sound pleased. Validated even. You might want to hold onto my forearms for the next one.”

“Bragging.” She laughed tiredly, charmed despite the cockiness on display.

“You’re only being sarcastic in one-word sentences. That’s more than enough to feed my ego.” He tugged on her elbows and her ass slapped against him.

The laugh disappeared on a moan. She grabbed hold of his forearms. “Okay. Just the next one. Any more might kill me.”

He thrust again but didn’t agree. She leaned forward and bit into the cover. Keri was going to need it.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

A sense of male pride filled him. Keri was right where he’d left her after taking a shower. She slept, hogging most of the bed, just as always. Would he drag her across him again?

No. The less he engaged, the better for the both of them. He glanced at his luggage and the toiletries, a forgotten mess on the hotel’s carpet. Leave or stay?

Leave
.

She was better off without him. It was why he didn’t have a close relationship with his brother. No one should need him for anything. He drifted through life and he liked it to stay that way. His past precluded him from normal, satisfying happiness. He’d paid back every cent he gained by ill means, but that didn’t redeem him. He’d taken more than money, and there was no amount of anything he could use to give that back. She deserved better, more from a man than the ability to make her come.

Tristan bent to put the luggage at the end of the bed where Keri’s leg didn’t take up room. The phone rang. Not their mobiles, but the hotel’s phone. He checked the clock display on the nightstand. Two in the morning—it could only be one of two people.

But if it was someone from the hotel or association…how would his brother answer? They both had their share of traveling the world, but Ian had done his with a purpose. He’d graduated from Cambridge and done lectures at places like Stanford. His brother had experienced the world in a professional capacity. Yeah, Ian had affairs, but living like that did something to a man. It smoothed out his rough edges.

Tristan had smoothed his out of necessity, conning to feed his family. Then conning because there was nothing he knew better even with a basic college education. He pretended to be refined, gentrified. The real him held those rough edges he’d grown up with while living in a home with nothing but men.

He finally answered with, “Mr. Baird.”

“Where’s my cousin?” Jocelyn didn’t bother to greet him with warmth.

“She’s asleep at the moment. Would you like me to wake her?” Silence. He sighed. “Give me a minute.”

He placed the phone on the nightstand and settled onto the bed. Keri had fallen asleep on top of the covers. Her skin was sticky from sweat. His groin tightened, because he could go for another five. He shook her shoulder until she moaned, turning her head toward him.

“Hmm?” she answered with her eyes still closed.

“Keri,” he urged. “Your cousin is on the phone and sounds like she’s in a pish mood.”

She grabbed a pillow and put it over her head. He laughed and picked up the phone. “Can she call you back?”

“No. It’s important and time sensitive.”

He sighed, ripped away the pillow and put the phone up to Keri’s ear. “Hey, Jocelyn.” Her voice was raspy and her words slurred. “No. No. You woke me.”