Stubble rasps against my skin as he kisses down my neck and I shudder, thighs tightening against his, holding him in place. His hand slides over my ass, big enough to squeeze both cheeks as he pulls me closer.
“I think ye should show me.” His voice is so deep, closer to a rumble and the sound is intensely erotic. He takes my hand, sliding it under the heavy cotton of the sweatpants and then, under the band of my undies. His fingers press over mine on my clit.
A huge groan/sigh/gasp escapes me and he chuckles low, “That’s it. So good for me, aren’t ye? Slide your finger between those slick lips.”
It’s too much, his amber gaze, the warmth of him, the feel of his hand cupping my center while his fingers move mine. When he pulls myhand out of my undies, an electric shock zings through me when he brings my fingers to his lips. The wet warmth of his mouth, his tongue licking my fingers? Sweet Lady Gaga, I could come just from this.
I can feel the cool air on my legs as Wallace yanks his sweatpants off of me. His hand is back on my ass in seconds and he’s pushing his thigh up against me again. “Rub against me,Luaith Bheag, take what ye need. Show me how pretty ye are when ye come.”
The muscles in his thigh are rock hard, as sculpted as the ones on his chest. My clit finds the ridge of one and I press down mindlessly, rubbing back and forth, his hand on my ass moving me and his dark voice in my ear, whispering to me.
“So juicy, ye are. How ye taste, sharp and sweet.” I shudder, bearing down harder on his thigh and his hand squeezes my ass. “I want to see your thighs slick with your come. I’ll lick ye clean and then dirty ye up again. Humping my leg like a greedy wee thing…”
His thigh rises up, his hand pushes me down and I scream into his chest, coming, squeezing him between my legs and he understands, holding me still as I shudder and moan, clit throbbing. When I collapse in a sweaty heap on his chest, Wallace wraps his long arms around me,encasing me, rocking me slightly.
“Such a good girl.”
Blootered - Scottish slang for extremely drunk
Chapter Nineteen
In which there is the most uncomfortable wedding photo shoot and plenty of hot Russian visitors.
Wallace…
I admire and respect Uncle Cormac, but right now, he’s a fecking cock blocker.
My wife is in my arms, wet and shivering, sweet and soft. And my goddamned phone goes off. The ringtone is “Ride of the Valkyries” and I groan, tightening my grip on her for one, perfect moment before pulling away.
“Sorry, lass. That’s the Chieftain's ringtone.”
Sighing, she nods, letting me go. “I’ll go tidy up.”
I watch her pert arse disappear into the bathroom, trying to shove down my resentment as I answer.
“Wallace here.”
“And here I’m thinking becoming a married man might help ye relax a wee bit.”
“Hello, Chieftain. You’ve heard already, aye?” Ican hear Scarlett singing something softly over the splash of the water.
“I knew exactly what you’d be doing when ye left the house. I was more surprised it took ye an additional twenty-four hours,” he chuckles. “Ye know this might be the union that finally sends your poor grandmother over the edge.”
The thought that Scarlett and I would now be facing the wrath of the Lady Elspeth sends a shudder through me. My grandmother is a tiny slip of a woman and ten times more terrifying than all the MacTavish men.
Combined.
“The Lady Elspeth will not perish from this earth before the rest of us have, waiting there to serve her in the afterlife,” I say dryly. “But I am hoping to escape the inevitable estate wedding for as long as possible. Scarlett’s still shell-shocked fromthisone.”
“Ye should take your bride home,” he says, all business. “Assign a couple of guards to her.”
Every muscle turns to granite. “What do ye know?”
“There’s no immediate threat, dinnae worry. I’d already have half your cousins converging on The Witchery if there were.”
I dinnae bother asking how he knows where we are.
“There’s been some interesting developments,” he continues. “Maksim Morozov is sending his two eldest sons here for a visit.”
