Page 55 of Waiting for a Scot Like You
“That’s right.” His voice was so deep she could feel it in her own body. “Have to show you what happens to bad lasses.” He released his hold on her throat to grip her thigh in a hold so tight she knew it would leave bruises—and she couldn’t wait to see those purple marks on her skin, proof that he’d focused on her so thoroughly and that, for this time, she was all that mattered to him.
He hitched up her leg and hooked it around his waist. When he notched the head of his cock at her opening, they both hissed with anticipation.
“What happens?” she breathed. “What happens to bad lasses?”
“They get my cock in their cunts.” He thrust up into her with one stroke.
She was wet enough to take all of him, and she cried out at the magnificent stretching within her.
For a moment, neither moved, both of them panting. She was pinned by him, speared on his cock and reveling in the sensation. His body held her to the wall. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, holding on to him as though he was her only means of salvation.
Then he moved. Slow, deep glides at first, his pace almost leisurely, as though he could fuck her all night and never tire.
The wonders of a younger man.
“This is what you’ve been after from the beginning.” He grunted with his thrusts. “All this time you’ve been teasing me, taunting me. You wanted my cock in you.”
Had she? Entirely possible.
“Answer me,” he growled.
“Yes,” she said on a gasp. “I craved this.”
“But not so slow and gentle, aye?” He stroked in and out as he spoke. “You want it rough, don’t you?”
His words sent heat pouring through her. “Hard as you can. Please.”
“Hold tight to me.” When she gripped him, he gave another grunt and then—
And then he fucked her. Fiercely.
Her feet lifted from the ground as he drove into her with taut, wonderfully brutal thrusts. She didn’t care about the rigid surface of the wall against her back,she didn’t care that it would be perfectly obvious to anyone in the corridor what she and Duncan were doing in here. All that mattered was the feel of him within her, and his hot breath against her neck.
She loved the sounds he made—short exhalations of ecstasy that he seemed unable to control. This was what she’d done, made this tightly leashed man give in to the primal need within him.
Her orgasm did just as he’d promised. She shattered into millions of pieces, losing herself in pleasure that had no beginning and no end. Shewaspleasure itself, replete with it, devastated and rebuilt by ecstasy.
His thrusts grew shorter, and then he pulled from her as he groaned his release. She felt his seed on her belly, grateful that he’d had the presence of mind to protect her.
Her eyes grew hot and damp, and she blinked back tears.
Immediately, he released his hold on her leg and gently curved his hands around her face. Worry tightened his features.
“I hurt you,” he said, his voice hard with self-recrimination.
“Not hurt,” she choked. “It was... Thank you...” She ducked her head, tucking it against his chest. “That was perfect. Exactly what I wanted.”
His thumb brushed away a tear, leaving her cheek damp. Tenderness washed through her. Even at his roughest, she never felt more valuable or cared for.She stroked her hand across his forehead, grazing strands of hair that clung to his damp skin.
“You’re very good at that, you know,” she said softly.
His smile was justifiably smug. “I have my uses.”
She couldn’t prevent herself from asking, “Have you ever done that with anyone before?”
“Since I was sixteen.” He added, “Before that, I was quite adept at frigging myself.”
“I meant have you ever been...” she glanced down at her exposed thigh, which was already beginning to bruise “...in command like that?”
