Her Insatiable Scot

by Melissa Blue

  Not once has he mentioned his mother.

  Another kind of ache started in her heart and she tried not to fill in the blanks. Not once had they brought up her family. From what she gleaned he and Ian were building up their relationship again. He spent a great deal of time with his father.

  But not once did he talk about a mother who worried about him, who chastised him for his past choices. The silence was damn near deafening.

  But she wasn’t supposed to wonder about that. They were partners in crime, for now. His past was just that—his. They were partners and somewhat lovers. That was it.

  *****

  The next morning would have felt like dèjá vu if not for the fuzziness. With the two beers from earlier on their boat ride already in her system, Keri had gotten through half a pint at the pub before the day crept up on her and her lids felt like lead weights. The rest of the pint was what made Tristan suggest they could watch another game on another day and head back to the hotel. He’d showered and she’d dozed off. And again she’d woken possessively sprawled over Tristan.

  At least she had her bra and underwear on. He wore another tank top and boxers. His arms wrapped around her waist. She suspected he’d moved her on top of him and she wasn’t the one crawling on him while asleep.

  Keri also suspected he wasn’t completely full of shit when he told her sex wasn’t high on his priorities. Nothing stopped him from waking her up after getting out of the shower. Or, forgoing the shower and getting her naked first. She also figured the invitation from the morning before was open, always.

  And what better way to wake him up? And when would be the next time she could have sex without pressure to perform? Since she didn’t hold an optimistic viewpoint—probably never.

  The less they tried to get each other naked, the more it felt like…more. So she shifted out of his embrace, lifted his shirt up to his chest and placed a kiss on his belly button. The barbell gleamed, tempting her. She pressed her lips against it. Metal and flesh. An odd combination, but it could get addictive.

  His abs dipped, rose in little ripples that needed to be admired too, if only for a second. With her tongue. She traced each one. His skin was smooth and hot to the touch. He tasted fresh from the shower even though a night had passed. He smelled like her, though. She’d left her scent behind as they slept.

  Her sex clenched at knowing, somehow, she’d marked him as hers. Not hers for long, but long enough to know his breath quickened when she caressed the skin right above his pubic bone. How could she not reap some sort of satisfaction when she kissed the tip of his cock through his boxers? He didn’t groan yet, but his breathing changed from their long deep pulls and grew shallow.

  Keri let her fingertips explore the indentation of muscle on his thighs. Touch meant everything when two people had sex. Probably the only time a fingernail lightly scraping against skin could make your heart race in delicious anticipation. So she curled her fingers around the band of his boxers and lightly, so very lightly, grazed his skin as she pulled them down.

  His cock sat up, stiff and thick, as soon as she pulled the material past it. She held her breath, pushed it back out, because nothing had ever been more beautiful to her.

  Clear liquid crested at the tip. A vein pulsed along one side. Her pussy clenched. So strange to have such a visceral reaction to his dick, but she could almost feel his first penetration.

  She let go of the elastic, leaving him exposed, and then watched for his reaction. His lids were low but open. She couldn’t tell how long he’d been watching, but curiosity filled his gaze. If not for the sudden flush to his tanned skin, she’d assume this did nothing for him. He’d yet to groan and she wondered what would make him. What would break the control that made him appear as nothing more than a bystander in her seduction?

  Keri held his gaze and ran her tongue over the curve of her top lip. He closed his eyes, grunting, and because of it he missed her smile. Leaning forward, she closed her mouth over his dick, sucked him softly, slowly, over the head and then lifted, never losing the gentle suction until he popped out from between her lips.

  This time he groaned. The noise sounded harsh and erotic in the morning quiet. She made him do it again and again. His heavy breathing added its own layer of lushness. Torturing him wasn’t her goal. Trying to put something in place of the darkness he’d shown her wasn’t part of the plan either. She was just…putting them back on the path they shouldn’t have strayed from. He’d brought her pleasure, mindless and sharp-edged. He’d made her wet and then he made her come.

  Maybe a small part of her wanted a reminder there was nothing wrong with her. She wanted to grasp the control he’d told her she had with him. That was it and nothing more. Funny, really. Kneeling should have been a submissive position, but she held the power as she knelt between his thighs.

  She sucked in a deep breath and sank down, taking as much as him as she could into her mouth. He was so hard. Not wet enough from her mouth, but that was okay. That was half the pleasure. He slid easily between her lips on the way back up and then down again. The smooth but ridged texture of his shaft created a sensation way more salacious than a caress and she loved it. Her nipples tingled, grew taut.

  Another deep breath, and this time she took in a little more than half. She relaxed, held him there in her throat. Full. Just as hard. Hot. He gasped. She rose, his cock slippery from her mouth now.

  Her clit swelled and she ached to soothe it and to tease it until her fingers were slippery too. Her stomach tightened, her skin hot, and all she wanted was release, to be so lost that no shame could take hold. She wanted to touch herself in front of him, because she was sucking him, and Keri didn’t want to care.

  She opened her eyes, looked up. His jaw clenched and his eyes looked half-closed, but his mouth was parted. There was a moment, a flicker of something behind the haze. He cursed. “Play with yourself and suck me.”

  She squeezed her eyes closed because the single command should have repelled her. A blush should have followed, but all she could do was moan and press her palm against her mound. Already wet and so swollen. She tugged her panties to the side and took more of him, held him in her mouth longer. His cock contracted. The salty tang of his precome washed over her taste buds.

  She moaned and then his hands were buried in her hair. His hips jerked again, but she felt him tense as though to tame the urge. She knew what he wanted. Could hear it plainly in the way his groans deepened. But she had the power to drive him right over the edge.

  He’d made her come with ease. He didn’t wait for her to be open and willing. He took, demanded with his fingers and mouth. Doing the same would only be fair, because for the next few minutes she was that woman who took, demanded and didn’t settle for half measure. A woman who didn’t care about a man’s past. She swirled her finger faster over her clit, losing herself in the feeling of it, but not stopping the way she worked her tongue and mouth up and down his dick.

  Tristan broke first. His hips jutted upward, he tensed and then jerked again, sinking deeper into her throat. She hummed her approval and swallowed all of him. He shuddered, his breath sounding trapped between a half curse and groan.

  Yes. Yes. Heat flashed through her stomach, over her sex, and held her captive until the release washed through every limb. Just when she thought it would end, another quake would make her pussy clench and she’d tremble. She lifted but sucked hard and was rewarded with a low grunt from Tristan.

  Yes. The tip of his cock heated, his dick strained, hardened more, and then his come filled her mouth with the true taste of him. His hands tightened on her hair, but she didn’t care. This was what she wanted. He wasn’t immune to her. This was real. She could make him come. There was no power in that, only pleasure.

  She unfurled her left hand from the comforter, the other from her mound, and let his dick slide one last time between her lips. Grasping his thighs, she ran her hands up to his waist and looked up at him. He sifted the strands of her hair betwee
n his fingertips. His chest rose and fell in a rapid pace, but he looked right back at her, his lids low.

  His face was flushed with color, but the beginnings of a smile teased his lips. “Good morning.”

  Heat bloomed in her cheeks at his words. Wouldn’t that just put a kink in her plans to be the kind of woman who made a man come before breakfast? She pressed her lips against his thigh. The solid muscle twitched. Play it lighthearted and cool. Play it sexy.

  She rose from between his legs and then slid off the bed. “I’m going to get dressed while you bask in my awesomeness.”

  He crossed his hands behind his head, but his gaze never wavered from her body. “If that’s what you want.”

  She liked the way the words settled on her, the whole idea that this could be whatever she wanted. “It is.”

  She kept that sexy, vivacious woman intact until the bathroom door closed. Leaning against the door, she pressed a fist to her stomach. Any thought of basking evaporated. What she wanted was… Hell, she didn’t know.

  Keri dated. She’d had her fair share of sex despite her circumstances. It wasn’t always pressure and discomfort. Yes, her problem echoed in the back of her mind, but sex felt good. How could someone licking your clit not feel divine?

  But this was new and different. This bordered on emotional and intimate and fucking dirty. A good part of it was sex between two consenting adults. A practice that had a long, varied and complicated history. Bees do it, birds do it. This sexcapade would end in three days. Wasn’t sex supposed to be intimate and emotional?

  Keri took in her surroundings. It wasn’t the best hotel bathroom she’d ever seen, but it wouldn’t make it in the top ten of the worst. The towels looked soft. The soaps and shampoos could fit into her palm but the labels didn’t look cheap and glued on by someone with bad eyesight.

  She needed to shower and maybe then she could get her mind back on the right things. They had to pretend to be a married couple. They had to act like her cousin and his brother. That was something she should worry about, not how much of a con man he still was. Or how her heart skittered when he smiled at her. She pushed off the bathroom door to the shower. The curtains were damp—she could guess how Tristan had relieved himself the night before. And probably the night before that.

  She pushed out a breath. This simple favor was turning more complicated than she was ready for.

  CHAPTER NINE

  She wrapped her fingers around his arm and leaned in. Tristan tensed, his eyes narrowing to slits at her delicate, small hand.

  “How can you drift off at a time like this?” Excitement thrummed through her voice.

  He glanced ahead, where the members of the association crowded around the antique moldings. He was stuck in this old house with her and several other members of the association. Them, he didn’t mind one way or the other. They ooohed and aahed at every crusty corner of the three-story home. They speculated about what parts were original, repaired or replaced. They prattled on by committee about how much this or that would cost during a renovation. They considered this fun.

  “Easily enough,” he murmured.

  Her enthusiasm didn’t dim at his answer. Nothing put a chink in her mood. The same could be said about his. Her scent permeated the air around him. Her touch burned through his skin. When he paid attention he’d detail her soft gasps, a flash of thigh whenever she moved in the silk dress, her dainty feet in the feminine heels.

  All the while Keri touched him, tried to drag him into the asinine conversations about fireplace mantels or wall moldings and breathed in his space. Nothing about her missed his notice and she seemed to have no clue about her effect on him.

  There were about ten things wrong with that, but the most important fact was that he couldn’t be rid of her. His shite of a brother refused to budge and let him out of staying. Tristan had called the moment Keri escaped to the bathroom. Not right after, mind you. He needed a…moment.

  She’d sucked him without using her hands. His imagination couldn’t have done her tongue and mouth justice. He felt out of control and daft and off-kilter and they hadn’t even fucked yet. He had no idea how she’d feel wrapped around his cock and he was confessing bits of his past. Some of the ugliest things, but not all. All of it would turn her curiosity into full-on horror.

  He wanted to tell her all of it, just to see if she’d take it with the same aplomb. No woman had, and none ever would. So it made perfect sense to leave the hotel room, forget the daft urges to confess and never see her again.

  Ian refused to give. The dobber.

  Keri bumped her shoulder with his, a playful smile spreading over her plump lips. “You’re grumpy.”

  He grunted and she bumped him again, this time with her hip. “Why?”

  Tristan opened his mouth to tell her in painstaking detail what would make him very happy when the head of the association called his name. The older man had graying hair and a kind smile. He’d retired as some hedge-fund millionaire and now spent his time looking at old homes. A man who wouldn’t question their con unless Tristan made a misstep.

  He plastered a smile on his face and stepped closer to the group. “Montgomery?”

  “I know relics are more of your expertise, but what do you think of this place?” the older man asked.

  The group all turned to him, probably expecting him to provide some great insight or to fudge it like most of them had done. He glanced at Keri. Her eyes had widened, and if anyone else noticed, that might stir up questions they couldn’t answer. Annoyed with himself and her vulnerability, he stepped forward and took a good look right above and below the baseboards.

  “Georgian, crown molding, looks in good enough shape. The problem would be removing the lead paint without damaging the molding. They went a little heavy on with the paint and decided to use it as a sealant so the molding wouldn’t detach from the wall.”

  He’d have pried the thing from the wall to get a look at the wood from the other side just to see how deep the good bones went. He wasn’t here for that. He was here as a penance.

  The insight made his brother look good and Keri pushed out a relieved breath. That was as far as he needed to take it, and based on Montgomery’s expression, he could pull the man aside and get them out of this mess. And that would mean he could get very, very far away from Keri. He stepped forward to do just that when she wrapped her fingers around his forearm.

  “My husband continues to surprise me,” she said, pride ringing clear in her voice.

  That emotion slid through him like warm honey. If he stayed, if he told her the truth about his past, any pride, lust or awe would turn into disgust. He wouldn’t blame her for it either. He had to get out of this—the sooner, the better.

  Montgomery stepped forward, quelling Tristan’s thoughts. The man stuffed his hands into his pockets. “His knowledge is pretty impressive.”

  “Aye.” Tristan’s skin tightened, right where Keri’s fingers touched. “Can I have a moment of your time?”

  She took that as her cue to chat with the group. Despite the nerves, she conned pretty well when she stopped thinking about it as dishonest. That was how it started for him too. He didn’t think past the moment of euphoria. He couldn’t imagine the consequences or the people he’d hurt. He had to get the fuck away from her. For her own good and his sanity.

  Tristan edged Montgomery into the other room. At a glance the man looked comfortable in his own skin. He was the only one who tended to know a thing about antiques, older homes and renovation. The dull subject aside, the man knew about passion.

  “You’ve been married how long?” Tristan eased the man into the conversation, made him comfortable and gave him the upper hand.

  “About twenty or so years.”

  “No details, but I’m guessing you remember your honeymoon. Did it involve looking at historical homes? Spending time with groups of people? Anything outside of a bedroom?” He didn’t wait for the man to answer. “I’m just asking because I appreciate
what you’ve offered…”

  “You guys seem…very in love.” Montgomery blushed and looked away.

  Tristan hadn’t seen the man on their floor, but the association members acted like a tight-knit group. The man had likely heard about their first-night bed tussle.

  Tristan grinned. “Madly in love.”

  Montgomery cleared his throat. “Excuse me for ruining that. We usually get enthusiastic amateurs, but rarely do we have professionals like you two.”

  Tristan relaxed. This was what he wanted. Of course they wouldn’t be the wiser that he planned to abandon Keri the first free moment they had. He owed his brother, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t wiggle out of this promise as long as he fulfilled the main goal—getting Jocelyn and Ian their home.

  A soft knock on the door frame drew their attention. Keri smiled, lighting up her brown irises in a way that hit him straight in the gut. He needed to see her eyes glaze over with pleasure. He wanted to be the one to do it and none of the urge stemmed from his need to dominate, decimate a woman’s desire to own it. He didn’t need to know how she ticked. He wanted her because there was just something so pure about Keri coming.

  She was a fucking problem, because he could want all that and what would she get in a trade-off? A shite of a man.

  “We’re going shopping,” she announced and even did a little bounce as though proud of herself.

  He might have enjoyed her reaction if he hadn’t just tried to lay the groundwork for escaping. He forced his lips into a smile. “Sounds lovely. What kind of shopping?”

  “There’s a fabric store downtown.” She announced the statement with enthusiasm but strain tightened the skin around her eyes.

  Should he worry about her discomfort for having to be sociable? No. She’d go to the fabric store. He’d head back to the hotel and pack. He’d leave a note telling her he had a good time and wish her the best of luck on her work. If his luck held, he’d never have to see her again. His brother and sister-in-law would get what they wanted, and he’d go back to not needing anything or anyone or wanting to be a different man with a different past.