"Kirk, I'm going to---"
"Not yet," he commands, abruptly slowing the car and pulling off onto a hidden dirt track that winds deeper into the countryside."Ahmno not done with ye."
The change of pace is maddening, and so is the bumpy gravel.I whimper in frustration as he deliberately eases the car along at an agonizingly slow speed, keeping me right on the brink without letting me fall.
"Please, Kirk," I beg, trying to move my hips faster, but his iron grip holds me steady.
He pushes his hand between my thighs, diving inside me and pulling his hand out again to thrust his fingers into his mouth.His feral snarl does me in, and my inner walls contract around his cock hard and fast.Kirk blows apart next, pummeling me while his cum spills inside me.
He deposits me on the passenger seat."Good fuck, aye?"
I grin, too satisfied to speak.Yeah, Kirk is the god of sex and thrills.
And I can't wait to marry him.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Kirk
I lie sprawled on our bed in the flat Gretchen and I share, with my eyes shut, satisfied in every way imaginable.After our epic shag in a moving car---my Porsche no, less---I needed a gooddèan dùsal.Cannae wait to confound Gretchen with that Gaelic term."Dèan dùsal" means to have a kip.Americans like Gretchen call it a nap.My fiancée had insisted on having a shower.That leaves me alone in our bed with the scent of her cream still wafting around me.My lass is the most ardent lover I've ever had.
Oh aye, she makes me feel as tall as Beann Dealgach.
I slide off the bed and rummage about in our shared dresser until I find something to wear.The top two drawers belong to Gretchen, while I settled for the two lower ones.That arrangement seemed gallant and fitting.Gretchen kissed my cheek when I told her so.
Once I'm dressed, I suddenly realize the shower isn't running.A quick peek into the bog proves she isn't in there.I frown at the emptiness, puzzled by her vanishing act.
"Gretchen?"I call out, scuffling back into the bedroom.
This flat isn't that big, so where could she have gone?I check the kitchen, then the living room.Still no sign of her.Worry begins to niggle at me.After that bollocks with Dougal, I've been more protective than usual.Can anyone blame me?I didnae like the way he looked at her during the Highland Games.
That's when I notice the folded note on the coffee table, propped by my car keys.I snatch up the note, instantly recognizing Gretchen's graceful handwriting.Gone to get us some lunch.Back in 20.You were sleeping so peacefully I didn't want to wake you.Love you, Tarzan.
Aye, "Tarzan" is her new nickname for me.I dinnae mind.
I blow out the breath I'd held.My overprotective instincts are getting out of hand, but with good reason.Dougal is like a shadow hanging over our happiness.The man is a genuine threat.And he's still out there somewhere, plotting his revenge against me and Tam for foiling his operation.The thought of him coming after Gretchen chills me to the bone.
I pace the room.Twenty minutes.Plenty of time for a quick trip to the shops and back.But my mind keeps conjuring scenarios---Dougal lurking outside our building, following her down the street, or worse.
"Get a grip, man," I mutter to myself.
I check my mobile.No messages.I consider texting her but don't want to seem like an overprotective ersehole.She's a grown woman and perfectly capable of buying lunch without my hovering.
After another ten minutes, I grab my car keys and head for the door.
Then my mobile rings.Number unknown.
Everything inside me goes cold, and I clench my keys in my fist.Something must have happened to Gretchen.I can feel it in my bones, in my soul.I accept the call."Who is this?"
"Lost your beloved, have ye, Balfour?Or maybe she left you for someone else---like me."
"Dougal, ye bloody bastard.Where is she?"I snarl into the phone, my grip so tight I'm afraid I might crush the device."If ye've laid a finger on her---"
"Tsk, tsk," Dougal interrupts, his voice calm and mocking."Such aggression, Kirk.Is that any way to speak to an old friend?"
I'm already moving, shoving my wallet into my back pocket as I bolt out the door."We were never friends, ye psychotic bastard.Tell me where Gretchen is.Now."
"She's enjoying my hospitality.Gretchen is quite a bonnie lass, with hazel eyes that are so expressive when she's frightened."
