After they returned from early dinner at the main lodge, Cal lit the fire in the lounge and they relaxed on the sofa with a glass of whisky. Bea nestled in between his legs, reclining onto his hot chest. She sipped her drink, letting the rich alcohol settle in her mouth for a moment before allowing it to slip down her throat. Unadulterated Scottish decadence, making her woozy. Just like a certain Scotsman.
‘What can you taste in the whisky?’ Cal asked.
‘Hmm, let me see.’ Bea counted the flavours on her fingers. ‘We’ve got Manuka honey … orange peel … maybe a hint of maraschino cherries?’
‘You’ve got your whisky tasting game going on. I’m impressed.’ Cal rested his drink on the side table, dipped his index finger into the glass and brought it to Bea’s lips. ‘How about this?’
Letting his finger rest on her bottom lip, Bea flicked her tongue across the thick pad. ‘Hmm, I’d say sexy Scottish man soaked in the finest thirty-five-year-old Kintyre malt.Hints of west coast heather, stormy sea air and a unique Butler intensity inherited from many generations gone by.’
Cal laughed. ‘Those are some tasting notes.’ He kissed her hair and lightly trailed his fingers down to her collarbone. Instinctively, she reached up to meet him and for a moment they held onto each other, Bea listening to the beating heart of this incredible Scotsman – as complex as the vintage malt warming her core – thump into her spine.
She guided him to her breasts, where, through the fabric of her blouse, he found her nipples and moved in circles over the sensitive skin. ‘I know already that these taste perfect,’ he said. ‘But I really want to make some tasting notes for the rest of you – one place in particular.’ He let his words hang in the air.
Bea inhaled deeply and moulded herself further into Cal’s firm frame. His erection was insistent at the base of her back, a promise of what could be hers. What would be hers. A flickering pulsed in her sex at the thought of his mouth on her, at last. Just as she had dreamed.
‘You thinking about that?’ he rasped, throatily.
‘Yes.’
‘Aye, me too. And it’s making me hard as a rock.’
‘And I’m thinking about tastingyou,’ Bea said. ‘I bet you taste perfect.’
‘Oh fuck, woman.’ Cal shifted under Bea and the extent of his arousal was more than apparent. Deftly, he unbuttoned her blouse, reached inside her bra, his breath warm on her neck. Bea arched up to allow him to unclasp her bra. But before he returned to her breast, Cal sunk his fingers into his whisky glass again. With the amber nectar dripping from them, he moistened her nipples, softly, tenderly, deliberately. Driving Bea wild.
‘I need these so badly.’ Cal, clearly unable to take the torture any longer, inched himself out from under Bea, knelt between her legs and hovered his mouth over her exposed breasts. And as he made first touch with single malt on her nipple, a primitive sound emerged.
‘Told you I liked my Manhattans with Scotch,’ he said.
‘What do I taste of?’
‘Mmm, spirit. And not just booze. Like the spirit of a real woman.’ Cal whorled his tongue over her again. ‘And there’s a seriously hot Californian sunrise. And maraschino cherries straight from one of your Manhattans.’ His emerald gaze, charged with intent, met her dead on. ‘And now I’m going to find out about the rest of you.’ He lifted her skirt and tugged down her panties. Bea inflamed like wildfire on heather at the exposure of her pussy.
Cal’s mouth was on her, softly at first, as he teased around her lips, gently caressing the sensitive skin, then flicking and circling her clit. Bea’s eager moans guided him as he kissed and explored every millimetre of her. No encouragement was needed. He licked and sucked and lapped at her like this was his one and only chance in life.
‘Oh, Cal. Please, please you’re so damned good at this. Make it go on forever.’
Cal didn’t speak. Just pulsed her with two fingers while his tongue ramped up its work, casting her completely out to sea. But he knew exactly what he was doing. And his raw groans suggested that he was as much in the moment as she was.
‘Let this beautiful pussy come for me, Bea,’ he said, still marvelling and working between her thighs. ‘Come with my mouth on you.’
She was powerless to resist. All she could do wasabandon control, buck forward and let Cal Butler happen to her, until, like rocks from a landslide, his name was falling helplessly from her mouth, and she was burning and grinding into him. Hard. Desperate. Pleading.
‘Oh God, Cal! Oh God! Don’t stop, don’t stop!’
But it had to end and, gradually, Cal released his touch and the incessant surges in Bea’s sex subsided. She sank down to bask in the afterglow, her face morphing into a blissful smile.
‘Mmm,’ she murmured. ‘That was ten star Scottish hospitality. I’m surprised any tourists go home.’
‘Ha.’ He planted a kiss on her pubic mound. ‘Not everyone gets the ten star treatment.’
‘I hope not.’ She reached down and raked her hand through his soft hair. ‘I want to taste you too.’ She truly did. Wanted to know – more than she ever expected she could want to – what Cal Butler in her mouth would be like.
‘You don’t have to return the favour.’
Bea examined Cal’s erection, potently visible through the fabric of his clothing. She climbed off the couch so he could lie back. ‘I think you need me to,’ she said. ‘I think maybe you badly need some American hospitality, honey.’
Cal smiled, sunk his head back and nodded in capitulation as Bea nudged herself between his legs. Releasing his jutting cock from his boxers confirmed exactly how tortured he was and she licked her lips in anticipation of helping him let it all go. She wanted to please him but she also wanted to feel his solidity round her lips, knowing that she had made him that way, and listen to every last deep throated groan as she took him in her mouth.
