KiltTease (8 page)

He rested his palm against her racing heart and couldn’t help himself for what he did next. Quinton cupped her breast, passing his thumb over where he knew her nipple would be. It beaded against the soft material within seconds. He was thinking with his dick again, that he knew. Kate could do as much harm as Angeline now that she knew his secret.

“You’re looking like you’re about to add more rules.” She crowded the space between them to spread her hands up to his torso, over his chest, his arms, and took his shirt off with the action.

His skin suddenly felt too tight and sensitive. Whatever blood that was left in his head drained out. Aye. He was daft.

He caught the edge of her dress and balled it in his hand, torn between his need to push her away or drag her closer.

She placed a kiss on his shoulder then his neck. Breathing slow and steady wasn’t working. Her mouth was too warm and soft. Her tongue too talented.

She brushed her lips against his jaw. Quinton drifted closer, giving up his need for caution because the need for her was winning out. She’d given him no reason to mistrust, yet, and he’d sat on the sidelines long enough.

“New rule,” he croaked.

“I knew it.” She nipped his chin, her fingers back to being nimble and inside his underwear.

His toes curled as she used her thumb to spread the precome over the tip of his dick. What had he planned to say? “Must not have been important. I can’t remember the rule.”

She laughed. With that, he took her mouth again, forgetting everything else but the soft cushion of her breasts against his chest, and the warm space between her legs he’d yet to thoroughly explore.

He lifted her with his good arm, and Kate curved into him so perfectly she felt made for him. It didn’t matter they were in a tower that held a chill. Or that a staff member could come up at any time. Her arse could fill his free hand. Her moans deepened as he kneaded her flesh, and when he glided his fingers over her mound, she was soaking wet.

“Stop teasing me,” she told him.

Drugged—that’s how she made him feel. His head felt fuzzy after tasting her, touching her. “Hands around my neck, lass.”

Her eyes lighted when she knew what he wanted. “But Quinton—”

He kissed her quiet and lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist without another protest. He found the first flat surface and laid her down, never moving his mouth from hers. He wanted to devour every sigh, every moan.

The throb in his cock pulsed louder than the one in his shoulder. She arched her hips up, her pussy brushing his cock through his slacks. Aye. That’s what mattered. He’d played through the pain for many years. He could fuck through it now.

“Quinton.” Her voice sounded strained. “We can do foreplay later. It’s been so long for me.”

His stomach clenched at the depth of passion in her voice. When was the last time he’d felt this desired, not because of what he’d given her or could give her, but because it was him? That truth strummed through him as she nipped at the corner of his mouth.

But he’d been letting Kate get her way since they’d met. So with a twinge of regret, he moved to rest on his haunches. The dress had bunched around her hips. Like any gentleman would do, he pushed it up to her waist, revealing beautiful thighs, a smooth stomach, and a pussy that made his mouth water.

He wet the tip of his finger and touched her clit to coax the nub out. She shuddered, but held his gaze, a question in her eyes. With his other hand, he freed his swollen cock from his underwear. The question disappeared as she watched him, lust darkening her irises. His mouth crook into a smile.
That
had her full attention. He stroked himself from the base to the tip and circled his finger around her clit at the same time.

“What are you doing?” she sounded aroused and irritated.

His hand clenched around the head of his dick. It pulsed in his fist. “Teaching you patience. Don’t rush me.”

She fisted her hands at her sides. “Quinton…” Her deep moan broke off the rest of what she’d planned to say.

More of that
. He stopped stroking them both long enough to spread her legs more and then bent down between them. He inhaled, taking in her musky scent up close this time before framing her pussy with his hands. The nub he’d teased greeted him, erect and wet from her arousal. He flicked his tongue over it to test the taste of her. She squirmed, whimpering.

Aye. This would be his brunch.

He lowered his mouth to her entrance and licked back up, slow. When he did it a second time, her hips arched, following his mouth. To reward the subtle plea, he closed his mouth over her clit and sucked her. Her hands lifted from her sides to cradle his head, but by the fifth lick and suck, her fists gripped his hair.

Quinton knew he could change the pace or even his tongue’s focus, but he wanted to hear her beg. Never wanted that before either until he had this sweet woman with a smart mouth who made him want the chase again. She made him crave, from the way she smiled and how easily she made him laugh.

He accepted the selfish need to make her beg and dipped a finger into her pussy to feel just how long it had been for her. She was tight and wet.

“What do you want, Kate?” He clasped a hand over his cock again, stroking himself, because he needed some release with the taste of her filling his mouth. “It can be whatever you want.”

He placed his thumb back on her clit just to watch Kate rock her hips against his finger. She didn’t seem to care about the wanton display. Her eyes closed, and her head tilted back. Quinton was enraptured. Her moans turned into soft pants, rising an octave until she shuddered. He had to stop stroking himself at the erotic sound or this would have ended much too fast.

She bit into her lip, opened her eyes, and focused on him. A shift in his chest let him know he wouldn’t be able to refuse her this time if she asked him to just fuck her. That shift turned into an ache when she rose. She didn’t ask, didn’t beg, just pushed his hand aside and closed her fist around his erection. He groaned, the muscles in his back trembling from the strain to keep still.

Kate began to stroke him, squeezing him when her hand reached the swollen tip. “I want your dick inside me.”

How could he say no when the pleasure of what she was doing pounded into him? The sensation hazed his brain, and he became the need thundering in his heart. All Quinton could do was dig in his trousers for a condom and protect them both before he plunged into her without any finesse. He hissed out a breath as she enveloped him. So tight and fucking wet. His balls drew up, and his pelvis followed the upward motion.

“Deeper,” she said.

The single word echoed in his head. He dragged in a steadying breath to wrest back control, but the air was filled with her musky scent. Her taste filled his mouth.

She shuddered again, her pussy clenching around him. “Deep and hard, Quinton. That’s what I want.”

He bent to kiss her, because if Kate kept talking dirty with that husky voice of hers, he’d come. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rocked up into him. His shoulder screamed. He ignored the pain and braced his hands on either side of her head for leverage before he slammed his dick into her. If not for his mouth muffling the sound of her cries, he was sure he’d have to pay the whole castle to keep quiet about their rendezvous.

The way she clutched him, kissed him hard and raised her hips to meet his thrusts was better than begging. Heat stole through his every limb, tightening his every muscle—fuck, his balls. A growl rumbled in his chest, and he just went deep instead of hard, grinding into her. It was enough for Kate. Her pussy started to milk him in long, hard strokes.

He stilled, letting the sensation ripple through him as her last shuddering climax tugged at him. He tried to hold back, digging his fingernails into his palms, but her moans filled his mouth.

“Kate. Fuck,” he muttered, a deep groan chasing after the curse, and he finally let himself follow the pull.

Quinton went blind for a good five seconds as he came, his arms shaking from the strength of it. It was the best fucking five seconds of his entire existence.

Kate tore her mouth away. “Oh, my God,” she murmured. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

Auch. He hadn’t gone blind; he’d just closed his eyes. Blinking her into view, he looked down. “What?”

“We’re on a rug,” she whispered, sounding scandalized. “In a room filled with priceless antiques. No door. We’re just half-naked and humping. I can feel all the dust in this room creeping up my ass.” She covered her face and laughed.

Her reaction was so pure, he found himself smiling. “Not the dust, lass.”

She dropped her hands. Her lids were still low, but that smile of hers was fully aware. “The dust,” she assured him.

Oh. Aye. She was making him daft. He knew he should be on his guard. He should take care with her, because even now the shadows were still there in her eyes. He had to be cautious because she knew his secret.

But he couldn’t resist kissing her infectious smile. He was so fucked.

CHAPTER SIX

“What are you grinning about?” Baird barked at her as they settled in at his kitchen table.

Kate had been sporting one ever since Quinton had dropped her off at her B and B the day before. She sighed, dragging her mind out of the gutter for the hundredth time.

Though his kitchen was small, she’d set the table with a grandish meal. A healthy one but still pretty big. She’d steamed the broccoli and fish and hand chopped the salad. The one extravagance was the bread. Garlic spread with just a touch of Parmesan covered the French roll. His flat above the pub smelled delicious.

She tried to relax into the wooden chair. Parts of her were achy from the day before and having to help the Baird clean his flat that afternoon. The worn but comfy furniture now smelled of Febreze instead of last week.

“You know,” she said, “I don’t think you’re normally this surly. I think you’re just surly with me.”

A hint of guilt shaded his blue-gray eyes. “Well, I don’t need a nurse.”

“I’m a companion.” He narrowed his gaze at the obvious lie. She snorted and added, “Yes, I have a nursing degree. It’s a subject that interests me. Plus I think it’s impressive I’ve managed to get certified and licensed on two continents. Do you know how tough that is?”

His grunt of approval was begrudging at best. “I guess. That just means you’re mercenary and smart.”

She reached over and pushed his plate closer to him. “You can just say smart, and I promise I won’t tell anyone you said it.”

Kate was sure he would have if someone hadn’t knocked on the door. She got up to answer while Douglass continued to grumble. Warmth sluiced through her stomach when she’d opened it. Quinton.

Since it was closer to winter than fall, he wore a thick, long jacket against the elements. Some of his wet locks curled around his ears. His brows were pulled down low, cementing his current look as sexy with a hint of dangerous. And because she knew what he felt like deep inside her, his face wearing that same kind of intensity, she shivered.

“Quinton,” she said a little too breathless.

“Kate,” he replied and made a soft noise of hunger as the cold turned her nipples into two hard points.

Her skin tingled at the sound he’d made, the sight of him, and the memory of his mouth on her lips and much, much more. It had been a long time since she had sex. Not that long though.

A part of her wished she could blame her loss of inhibitions on the midday champagne, but the moment he brushed his fingers over her, she’d been half-crazed. She hadn’t cared about where they were, or the rules he felt necessary for a pretend relationship. She would have agreed to just about anything if it turned his caresses into something harder, faster.

But she wasn’t in Scotland for this weightless feeling in her gut. Ignoring it, Kate put her back to him and returned to the table. She felt more than heard Quinton follow.

Douglass stabbed his fish, paying no mind to the salad. She sighed and settled into her chair again.

“Baird, Victoria told me what happened over the summer,” she said. “You had a heart attack.”

“A minor one.”

“Yes, thankfully.” Her speech got waylaid when Quinton sat down next to her.

His spicy scent forced a rush of desire through her veins. She cleared her throat and tried to remember what she’d planned to say.

“Victoria worries about you,” Kate said. “It’s obvious she loves you. I could tell you about patients who only had me. No one came to visit. The family would hire me, and I was only given the permission to call when that loved one died or was close to it. Victoria and Callan check in on you. A lot. You don’t know how lucky you are.”

Kate hated the sudden grief thumping in her heart. She’d had a good thirty years with her grandmother. There were the nostalgic memories of her grams slathering on Blue Magic or Sulfer 8 into her scalp before french braiding her hair. There were the thousands of beads her grams would add to the tips. Those beads had given her endless memories of the clack, clack, clack sound when she played double dutch with her friends in elementary.

Her grams gave her a home when she didn’t have one. She encouraged her to be young and fun and would say, “What was the point of getting old if you don’t have any racy stories to tell?”

So she shouldn’t have been sad. Kate didn’t have any regrets. This trip was an extension of her honoring every single memory, whispered advice, or scolding while growing up. Her parents had known this, and even her mother hadn’t put up much of a fight when Kate took possession of her grams’ urn. It was simply understood she’d been loved and had loved back just as hard.

She swallowed, looking down at her own plate. The warmth of Quinton’s hand on her elbow didn’t soothe her either. She pushed back her shoulders and met Douglass’s observant stare. “You’re here and they want to keep you here. Eat your damn salad.”

“Auch,” Douglass said, his eyes kind instead of hard like they usually were when he looked at her. “I hate liking you.”

“Ditto, you curmudgeon.”

Quinton shifted in his chair, his eyes dark and filled with questions she didn’t want to answer. He was her fun fling, the one thing in her life that didn’t make her want to curl into a ball and cry.