Page 27 of Waiting for a Scot Like You
A little space between her and the major seemed like a good idea.
Before heading up the stairs, she stopped the innkeeper. “I’d like a bath sent up to my room.” There would be plenty of time for her to bathe and get into bed before the major returned. No chance of him catching heren déshabillé.
Although, the idea of him discovering her without clothing did send a shiver through her—and not in an unpleasant way.
“Yes, my lady. It will be there shortly. I must let you know, though, that we won’t be able to take the bathaway until morning. I can get some girls to fill the tub, but I need my boys to carry it out, and, on account that they need to be up to meet the first mail coach, they’ve already gone to bed.”
“That will be fine.”
Beatrice climbed the steps to the first floor and moved down the corridor to her room. As she walked, a carpet muffled her steps—enabling her to hear the rhythmic squeaking of a bed behind one of the doors.
She couldn’t stop herself from pausing and listening, her body tightening automatically in response. A woman’s breathy moans were punctuated by a man’s excited grunts.
But instead of a few fast squeaks of the bed followed by one long groan from the man, the noises went on. And on. The woman’s moans grew louder, throatier. God, it sounded as though she was being thoroughly fucked and thoroughly loving it.
There was a pause, the noises of people shifting, and then the moans beganagain. Holy heaven, they’d changed positions and werestillrogering each other.
Not once in Beatrice’s life had she and Edward had sex for more than a few minutes. She’d read, of course, about marathon sessions of intercourse. In the Lady of Dubious Quality’s books, whole chapters had been devoted to a single fuck. Beatrice had believed it to be poetic license. How did peopledothat?
But the couple in this room could. And how she envied them. Her body certainly wanted to be where thewoman’s was at that moment—her nipples suddenly tight, her quim damp.
Beatrice stroked a fingertip across her collarbone and bit back a whimper. It didn’t matter that, in a few days, she’d be at Lord Gibb’s, with a buffet of sexual partners from which to choose. She needed sexnow, preferably the kind that lasted for hours, not minutes.
Her feet wanted to carry her downstairs, into the taproom. Her lips wanted to whisper into Major McCameron’s ear that she wanted him to join her in their lone bed. His words from earlier played through her mind. He was a thorough man—would he be as attentive a lover as the man within the room?
If the look of alarm on his face had been any indicator, he wasn’t certain what to do about feeling attracted to her. And suggesting that they become lovers—temporarily—but having him rebuff her was an experience she didn’t want.
Very well. She could take care of things herself.
First, she had to walk away and give the two lovers their privacy... much as she wanted to hear the conclusion.
Arousal made her legs unsteady beneath her as she quickly hurried to her room. She noted that one of her traveling cases had been brought up, the same with the major’s pack. As she waited for her bath, she lit the candle and paced, her body full of restless, responsive energy. A smile touched her lips. How long had it been since she’d had to make her self-pleasuringsessions speedy, lest someone come into the room and interrupt her? The fact that she had to hurry only heightened her need for sensation.
Finally, there was a tap at the door. She opened it to reveal the innkeeper, followed by two girls, who brought in a tub and several cannisters of water. They filled the bath, draping a towel at the foot of the bed, and setting a cake of soap beside the tub.
“I can help you out of your things, my lady,” a freckle-faced girl offered after the innkeeper left the room.
“That would be lovely.” Beatrice assisted where she could, slipping her arms out of her sleeves and holding steady once the girl had reached her stays. At last, Beatrice was down to just her shift. She gave the girl a coin, and when she was finally alone, she peeled off the wisp of linen. After dousing the lone candle, which permitted the room to be illuminated only by the moonlight spilling in through a narrow window, she stepped into the bath.
The water was warm, not hot, but it was enough. It settled around her body, lapping at her skin, and she glanced at the door. She hadn’t locked it, but surely she’d hear if someone—specifically Major McCameron—approached, and besides, he was busy downstairs, enjoying his friends’ company. He said plainly he wouldn’t be up for a long while.
She stroked her hands down her neck and lower, until, with a low moan, she reached the firm tips of herbreasts. Circling her fingers around her nipples, sensation gathered, echoing hotly in her quim. She was ready.
What if Major McCameron came into the room right now? What if he saw her in the bath, completely naked, her hands on her breasts, no doubt as to what she was doing? Would he turn and flee? Or what if... he closed and locked the door behind him... and watched her?
Thinking of this, she pinched her nipples and bit her lip as she fought to keep from crying aloud. She could picture it now, the major’s cock hardening in his breeches, pressing against the placket as proof of his desire for her. He’d battle with his arousal—he was a man of restraint—but then he would be unable to fight it. First he’d stroke himself through the fabric, molding to the shape of his cock, but it wouldn’t be enough. He’d curse as his hand fumbled for the fastenings of his breeches. He’d stare at her through half-lidded eyes, caressing his cock as her hand dipped between her legs—both in her mind’s eye and in real life.
She gasped when she found herself slick and ripe. Her fingers stroked around her opening and then her bud as she pictured Major McCameron’s fist going up and down his cock while he watched her pleasure herself. Would he be silent? No, she wanted to hear him, his grunts of ecstasy, low and animal.
Her caresses grew faster, more intense. The beginnings of a climax gathered, bright but still too distant. She squeezed her eyes shut.
What if... the major could no longer stand it? He’d stride forward as she sat in the tub, and then cup the back of her head, bringing her forward until... she took his cock in her mouth. And then he’d thrust between her lips, and she’d take it, loving his force, his taste, her own hand still working her quim.
A growl shattered her concentration.
She opened her eyes. Major McCameron stood in the room—staring at her. His cock wasn’t in his fist, but there was a definite thick, upright shape snug against his breeches.
Her hands froze. This wasn’t her imagination. He wasactually here. Watching her pleasure herself.
