Lost in Scotland

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Lost in Scotland Page 21

by Hilaria Alexander


  “Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop,” she said right before I started teasing her throbbing clit with my thumb. Then she came, squeezing her walls around my cock, her body shuddering. I came a moment after her, the orgasm rushing through me like a river, white, blinding fireworks exploding behind my eyelids. I collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily as her own heart slowed down to a steadier beat.

  She ran her fingers through my hair.

  “Want to know something?” she asked.

  “Aye,” I muttered, still trying to regain my breath. I kissed the skin of her belly.

  “I will never stop being hungry for this either.”

  Sam

  The Monday after my birthday and our secret getaway, we were on a bus to go work on a different location. I had been in a daze all morning after having two full days with Hugh at the cottage. We alternated romantic walks on the beach with toe-curling sex by the fireplace. We cooked together, and after we got lost in each other for the millionth time, we told each other stories of when we were kids. It was the best weekend I’d had in a while, and it put me in a lust/love-induced daze.

  I was falling for him, but it was too early to talk about love. All I knew and cared about was that when we were together, the hunger in his eyes matched mine.

  We had gotten back late the night before in an attempt to avoid meeting anyone, and after I got back to my place, I had a hard time going back to sleep. We had to get up early the next morning, so we were all quiet and sleepy—except Cecilia, who was chipper in an almost obnoxious way. She hadn’t been home when I’d gotten back, so she hadn’t had time to quiz me about where I had been all weekend. She was listening to some music, and by the sound of it, it was Madonna again. She had been on a Madonna kick, listening to the entire discography on her phone every day, and apparently, she hadn’t gotten sick of having the same songs on repeat.

  “I should have dressed up as Madonna in the ‘Express Yourself’ video instead,” she whispered, leaning toward me. “And I could have dressed you in one of those suits with a corset underneath. Your boobs would have looked great. You even look like one of her vocalists from the early ’90s.”

  I rolled my eyes and laughed. It was such an odd Cecilia thing to say.

  “Um, thanks?” There was no point in arguing. It was too early, and she always seemed to win every time we had a discussion. Pesky little thing. She looked at me, waiting to hear my opinion on the matter.

  “You have nothing to say?”

  I shrugged. “It sounds like a fun idea, but we did just fine with the Wonder Woman costume.”

  “We, huh?” She winked.

  “Yes, it was a lovely suggestion,” I said coyly, pressing my lips together; I’d said too much.

  “Lovely, hey?” She looked around, and when she saw that everyone else around us had dozed off, she whispered, “So, what did he do? Did he give you a big strong hand and lift you to higher ground?” she asked with a lewd gesture.

  “Oh, my God! Stop that!” I whisper-shouted, looking around us, but thankfully everyone was asleep. Alas, she didn’t stop there.

  “Did he make you feel like a queen on a throne? Did he make love to you ’til you couldn’t come down?” she asked, paraphrasing the lyrics of the song.

  I closed my eyes and covered my face with my hands. A moment later, I peeked through my fingers and gave her a small nod.

  “I knew it,” she said with an air of satisfaction. “That should teach you, Sam.”

  “Teach me what?”

  “To never ever go against me.”

  “Stop smirking like that,” I told Hugh in a hushed tone. He looked down at me through his eyelashes as I stroked my brush across his cheek, splattering fake blood across his face. “Someone will notice if you don’t stop.” I took another chunk of makeup and applied it to his skin. His lips pressed into a line, and then he bit his bottom lip, the look in his eyes sending a rush of color to my cheeks.

  “Did you have a good weekend, Sam?” he asked, impenitent, with a James McAvoy-esque grin that made him look stupidly handsome.

  “It was wonderful,” I whispered, smiling but refusing to meet his eyes. He let out a low chuckle, and I didn’t have to look at his face to know what he looked like when he did that. I loved that he was so happy this morning, but there were at least fifteen people around us setting up for the next scene. Although his behavior was endearing in some ways, it was also irritating. I didn’t understand why he wasn’t trying to be more careful. He didn’t seem to care, but I did. It was hard enough to focus after the two days we’d had together, but he seemed to be determined to make me lose all my concentration.

  He made a face as I brought my brush to his cheek again. “Why is this blood so much darker than what I usually have all over me?”

  “This is dragon blood. We agreed that fake dragon blood should look different than fake human blood.”

  “I see. Why is it so much thicker? What did you put in there to make it like that?”

  “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

  “Is it animal blood? I swear it smells.”

  “Please. Do you think we could afford to have PETA on our ass like that?”

  “I suppose not.”

  “We just added red and blue food coloring and cocoa powder to give it more texture.”

  “Hmmm.” He gave me another steely gaze, and I shook my head. There was a giant contraption shaped like a tower covered in the same material of green screens. During post-production, the automated boxy thing would become a dragon. There was a tube sticking out of it that was connected to a spray gun and a tank filled with twenty pounds of fake blood. At some point during the scene, it was supposed to spray blood all over Hugh. Slashing the belly of a dragon would have such consequences.

  He reached for the opening in my hoodie and squeezed one of my breasts. I waved his hand away, narrowing my eyes at him. I looked around and made sure it was safe to talk. “You’re being impossible today. How am I supposed to do my job?”

  “My hands are cold,” he said with a shrug and a smug grin.

  “My boobs are not hand warmers.”

  He laughed. “I disagree. They’re so…warm, and inviting. They make excellent pillows, too,” he said in a deep voice, clicking his tongue playfully.

  Images of our weekend together flashed before my eyes, and I looked down, unable to hold back my smile. I fiddled with my brush and the dish holding the blood.

  “Are you done with touch-ups, Sam? I need to fix his hair,” the hairstylist asked.

  “Y-yeah, Serena. He’s all yours.”

  As I walked away to let the hairstylist do her job, I realized just how much I was falling for him. I had to hold back a stupid smile from spreading across my face. It was the best and the worst to be surrounded by him and his presence every day. I knew each one of his movements, each one of his expressions. I recognized his presence by the sound of his steps. I knew the rustling of his boots when he walked in the trailer. He was a vision in his regular clothes, but he was absolutely breathtaking in costume.

  I knew his face so well, I had every line memorized. It wasn’t just his body or his touch I craved. When he wasn’t with me, I longed for his voice, the way he talked to me, low and unhurried. I craved the sound of it, sexy and reassuring at the same time. His voice had the power to turn me on like no other with the way the words sounded coming out of his mouth, his accent making every syllable new and interesting.

  Days later, when I turned my phone on during a break, I found a text from my sister.

  Call me as soon as you can. I have news.

  When Amira said that, she usually meant Oh, I was nominated for so and so award or I’m going to be on the cover of Vogue next month, so, when I called her, I didn’t expect that she meant our Christmas plans had been disrupted.

  “I mean, who schedules reshoots around Christmas? It sounds suicidal, if you ask me.”

  “I know, I know, and I’m so sorry, but it’s in
this remote part of Thailand and they got the permits and everything, and the director is a perfectionist…”

  “Huh, I have yet to meet a director who’s not a perfectionist.” Perfectionist was a nice way of saying that the director was a pain in the ass. I had worked with a couple of perfectionists myself.

  “So, is everyone coming?”

  “Yes, even Robert.”

  “What about his girlfriend?”

  “Which one?”

  “The nerdy-looking one.”

  “Oh, that’s been over for weeks. How is Scotland by the way?”

  Magical. Fantastic. Astonishing. Those words coming to my mind might have had something to do with Hugh suddenly appearing in the trailer, fully clothed in a new costume I hadn’t seen before, but who knows…

  “Scotland is…gorgeous,” I said into the phone, never taking my eyes off him. “I have to go, so I’ll call you tomorrow…but wait—what’s the plan exactly?”

  “I’ll send you an email with my schedule and then a group email so we can coordinate with the rest of the family.”

  “Sounds good. Love you, Mira.”

  “Love you, too, Sam. Say hi to the Scotsman for me.”

  “Will do,” I said, trying to imitate Hugh’s accent.

  He cocked one eyebrow at me, and I appraised him some more as he took a seat in his chair.

  “What’s new with Mira?” he asked.

  “Looks like she’s making me go to Thailand for Christmas,” I said, feigning annoyance.

  “Beaches, crystal-clear water, and sun? Sounds miserable,” he joked.

  “I know, right?” I replied with a smile.

  Sam

  “So, you’re going to miss out on the beauty of Scotland at Christmas. There might even be snow on the peaks, and you’re not going to see it,” he said with a smile. November had gone by in a flash, half of December had already passed, and there we were talking about our Christmas plans. I dreaded being away from him, even for just a few days, but I was impatient to be reunited with my family. I almost wished I had the guts to ask him to come with me, but it was too early in our relationship. Plus, I doubted anyone would be happy with me if I brought back our fair-skinned Scottish hero with a tropical tan.

  His words sent a warm rush through my body.

  “Is that a nice way of saying you’re going to miss me?”

  “Perhaps.” He smiled and then kissed me on the lips.

  “Where are you going to be? Edinburgh?”

  “Oxford.”

  “Then why are you trying to lure me with all your snowy peaks talk?”

  “Because, ultimately, that’s where I would like to spend Christmas.” He kissed me again, and I melted under his touch. “In Scotland. With you,” he added, his accent more pronounced on the last syllable. His hand moved between my legs and started teasing my sweet spot, which seemed to be always so wet and ready for him.

  “Keep going,” I moaned, and he did as I asked. “Why Oxford?”

  “That’s where my family lives.”

  “What?”

  “Did I never tell you that?”

  “No, you failed to mention it—completely.”

  “My bad,” he said with a half-smile.

  “No, now I want to hear the whole thing,” I pressed.

  “What do you want to know?” he asked, suddenly coy. I tickled his side, and he laughed.

  “I thought you’d lived your whole life in Edinburgh. You said you grew up there, right?”

  “I did, but then we moved to London when I was…thirteen, maybe? I wasn’t too happy about it. I loved Edinburgh.”

  “Why did your parents have to move?”

  “My father got a job. He’s a professor. He teaches Celtic languages.”

  “No way! Not only were you born in Scotland, but your father teaches Gaelic. You had a leg up on this role the entire time!” I teased him, and he laughed.

  “I did not! I mean, yes, I could have had my father help me, but I had no interest in learning Gaelic—not until I got this role anyway.”

  “You so cheated. This whole thing was rigged!”

  “Come here, you Sassenach. I’ll show you rigged,” he said, shutting me up with a kiss. My lips parted, and his tongue captured mine, moving in slow circles around it as his hands wrapped around my waist and dragged me on top of him so I was straddling him. He made me raise my arms and took my shirt off. My breasts were at eye level with his face, and his fingers skimmed under my lacy bra, giving them a gentle squeeze. I grinded my hips on his, and I could already feel his hard-on. He started placing kisses on my chest and took the straps of my bra down, exposing more skin.

  He took a deep breath, and the look on his face set my skin on fire, my chest burning with rabid flames. He pulled the cups down and sucked on my nipple, twirling his tongue around it, sending a wave of pleasure through my body. He unhooked my bra and removed it, giving me a sensuous, lusty look.

  He caressed and squeezed my breasts, sucking on the other nipple this time. His scruff teased me in the most delicious way. I moaned, the tension between my legs becoming unbearable. I needed him to touch me right there. I needed him inside me. I ran my hands through his curls, holding the back of his head. He bit my nipple and then reached for me, searching for my mouth. I lowered my face to his and kissed him until I was breathless. Making out with Hugh was easily my favorite pastime. I could have spent a solid hour on that couch just kissing him…if I didn’t know any better.

  But I did.

  And I needed him out of his clothes as soon as possible.

  Almost as if he were reading my thoughts, he broke the kiss and said, “Take off your pants now.” His voice was almost a growl, his eyes possessive, but still lined with a trace of playfulness.

  I smiled seductively and bit my lip as I stood up to remove every item of clothing I still had on. I did so slowly, staring at him as his eyes drank me in, his gorgeous lips parted, his breathing fast and ragged. As my pants hit the floor along with my underwear, his arms circled my legs just below my ass. He started trailing kisses right below my belly button, going lower. I exhaled nervously, tensing with anticipation. A moment later, my ass was up in the air as he lifted me onto his shoulder and stood from the couch.

  “What are you doing? Put me down!” I cried.

  “I need to have you…in bed. We never seem to make it upstairs.” He was right. We always had so little time, it seemed we could never make it to the bedroom.

  “It’s your fault,” I joked. “You’re the one who wants to talk. Next time, just take me straight to your bed.” When he got to his bedroom, he put me down on the mattress and exhaled a breath, giving me a cautious look. He narrowed his eyes at me.

  “Don’t fault me for wanting to get to know you.”

  My hands pointed at my naked self. “You can get to know me in bed, too.”

  “I want to get to know all of you,” he said, moving in closer, his warm breath washing over me.

  “Ask me anything. I don’t have any other secrets,” I teased him, and he responded with a playful look. I wanted to get to know him better, too, but we never had enough time to be together, and I craved his body all the time. It was already hard enough pretending to be indifferent to him in front of other people. He couldn’t possibly ask me to keep my hands off him when we were alone. The one or two hours we could get every other night was my happy place, and I wanted every minute to count.

  He leaned in to kiss me, but I pulled back.

  “It’s your turn now. Take it all off,” I commanded him. I sat on the bed as I watched him giving me a show.

  Good grief. His body was a testament to how hard he worked to achieve it. It made me sad that I hadn’t studied anatomy because there were far too many muscles on his body that I didn’t have a name for. He was already barefoot, and he took his jeans off in a hurry. When he dropped his pants, his eyes met mine. He proceeded to take off his underwear without taking his eyes off me. I swallowed, looking at his na
ked body in all its glory as his erection sprang free. He gave me a piercing look and came to sit on the bed next to me.

  He pushed me down on the mattress and kissed me, soft and rough, alternating the rhythm while one of his warm hands rested on my cheek and the other one explored my body, making my skin tingly with excitement.

  I frowned, suddenly remembering something important. I broke the kiss.

  “Stop, there’s something I have to tell you.”

  He suddenly looked worried. “What is it?”

  “I think Jake is onto us.” It was true—Jake had noticed. He’d noticed that Hugh and I were usually missing from get-togethers and that we always maintained a certain distance if we happened to be in the same room. Even when he and other actors would come over to my and Cecilia’s place, we avoided being close to one another. I was always afraid one of us would let our guard down and touch the other as we did in private. Still, it wasn’t easy to be immune to his charm. In fact, it had become increasingly harder to ignore him. He could smile at me from across the room and butterflies would release in my stomach. I tried to be subtle, but I couldn’t prevent the dreamy look in my eyes, and in the end, Jake had noticed—and had confronted me about it.

  I’d denied it over and over. He wouldn’t stop questioning me, and eventually, I had to tell him quite rudely to knock it off. He’d finally dropped the subject, but what had surprised me the most was that he had a few words of warning about Hugh. He’d told me he understood if I had a crush, but that I should not trust him.

  “How?” Hugh asked. “We have been extra careful—to the point of paranoia, if you ask me. You know what I think we should do—we should just tell everyone and be done with it. We should tell Nora first, of course. Why do you think Jake knows?”

  “He was warning me about you.”

  “Huh?”

  “It’s actually kind of funny. He asked me why I kept rejecting him, blah, blah, blah—”

  “That guy doesn’t know how to take no for an answer, does he?” he growled, and I could see that his mood was already changing, his eyes growing darker.

 

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