She couldn’t believe how easily she had accepted his advance and how quickly her body was responding to his touch. She was usually careful about becoming intimate with a man, yet here she was, making out behind the beer tent with Brodie MacNeil at the Highland games. Fiona's head was swirling and she was very aware of his hardness pressing against her thigh. He groaned as she gently nipped his bottom lip and he thrust his hips against her thigh in response.
Fiona heard his name being called over the tannoy first. She ripped her mouth away from his and batted his hand away from her breast.
“What...?” growled Brodie, moving down towards her neck.
“They're calling you.”
Brodie cocked his head and nodded when his name came over the tannoy again.
“Shit, I'm entered into the caber tossing competition.”
“The caber tossing competition where you throw a big wooden log as far as you can?” She giggled, still aware of his own “caber” pressing against her leg.
“Yes, what's wrong with that?” He frowned.
“Oh, em, nothing. It just seems funny. Here, you'll need your sporran. I have a safety pin to hold the chain together for now.” She quickly removed the pin from her bag and fixed the sporran. He grinned as he left her sitting on the grass, blowing her a kiss before he walked around the corner and out of sight.
Fiona straightened her dress and picked up the two plastic beer cups. Her lips tingled from their kisses and she ached with frustration at the sudden loss of him. Why was she even entertaining the notion of sleeping with Brodie? Surely he didn’t actually want to have sex with her–and she definitely was not going to have sex with him. She’d just broken up with Darren. There was no way she was going to use him as her rebound fling.
She walked over to watch the caber tossing competition and found Sarah among the other spectators. She stood laughing with her best friend at the array of strong and weak competitors attempting to throw the old telegraph pole as far as they could.
Brodie won the competition easily. As he had tossed the caber, Fiona's eyes had been glued to his strong arm muscles: arms that had been around her only minutes before. It was almost as if his touch was burned onto her skin.
When he took the podium to accept the winner's trophy, he looked directly at her and smiled. He was gorgeous. But she couldn’t figure out why she had allowed him to kiss her. She could not fall for him. There were many reasons why the whole idea of a relationship with Brodie MacNeil was ridiculous.
Then he was at her side.
“We're all going to the pub now. Are you coming?”
“I really should get home.” Fiona started to back away. His smell and his grin were intoxicating.
“Fiona, what's wrong?”
“Nothing. It's just...”
“Just what?”
She turned from him and started walking towards the field gate, which led out onto the main road round the island. After living in the city and driving along three lane motorways, it seemed funny to think of the narrow single track with regular passing places as a main road. The tarmac fell away steeply to the dark green peat bog on one side and the rough uncultivated expanse of heather on the other. Beyond the peat bog, the sun glinted off the sea–the mainland barely visible to the naked eye.
“What happened earlier was... nice, but it can't happen again.”
“You weren't complaining at the time.”
“You caught me off guard. Look.” She stopped walking and turned to him, grabbing his arm to stop him from continuing to move. “I'm not ready for a relationship. Besides, we live in very different places. I don't do one-night stands and we can't carry on a relationship with me living in Glasgow and you living on Kilrigh.”
“Well, I can't help thinking you're jumping the gun after one kiss, but ignoring that, if it came to it, one of us could move.”
“Brodie, you're a farmer. There are not a lot of jobs in the city for someone with a degree in agriculture. Besides, you have to take over the estate one day. And I sure as hell am not coming back here to live.”
“Why not? Bert is looking for someone to take over the vet's practice. He wants to retire.”
“And then I can spend the rest of my life with my hand up the backsides of all the cows on the island? I don't think so.”
“What happened that caused you to hate your home so much?” he asked suddenly.
“Nothing. I just like having a shop around the corner in case I run out of milk at short notice and clothes shops a twenty minute journey away.”
“If we run out of milk here, we either drink our coffee black or we go out first thing in the morning and collect a jug of milk fresh from the milking machine tank. And we have the internet for shopping or we go for a weekend trip to Glasgow. You speak as though living in the city is somehow superior to living on Kilrigh. Well, we may not be as cultured as the city folk, Fee, but at least we don't end up sleeping with the girl from accounts.”
She gasped at his arrogance. How dare he? Before she realised, her hand had come up to slap him soundly on the cheek, but he was too quick. He caught her forearm firmly in his hand and leaned down to whisper in her ear.
“Don't ever try to hit me or anyone else again.” Brodie let go of her arm instantly. “Now, stop pouting and come to the pub. There will be lots of us there and I promise not to try to molest you again. I also promise not to propose marriage to you and actually make you think about staying on Kilrigh.”
He put his hand gently on the small of her back and guided her out of the field and down the road to the village. His gentle but familiar touch sent a shiver up her spine. There was no denying it now. She wanted Brodie. She wanted him to run his rough fingers up her naked body, to find out if he was a true Scotsman and to be able to forget everything for a short time and just enjoy being with him.
~* * *~
Fiona found herself being whirled around the pub floor in an energetic jig by Gregor Kincaid. Gregor was a couple of years younger than she and Brodie. He was a tall, blond, muscular drummer in the pipe band and was also used to working hard since he had taken over his own croft after his father’s death a few years earlier. He had been trying to charm his way into her affections all evening and had bought her a couple of drinks earlier. He was confident and a complete flirt. She had tried to buy him a drink in return so no one thought she was interested in the younger man, but he had refused.
Throughout the evening she had watched Brodie, acutely aware of exactly where he was at any given time. They had regularly made eye contact and each time he had grinned at her, it heated her core.
The small folk band that had been playing since they had arrived slowed down the tempo and Fiona took the opportunity to thank Gregor for the dance and go to the bar for a drink.
She felt Brodie's presence behind her before he spoke. He was almost flush against her as he placed his hands gently on her hips.
“I have something for you,” he rasped.
“Really?” She smiled and handed over money to the barman. She stifled a groan as he tightened his grip on her waist. As warmth pooled in her belly she struggled to maintain control. She forced herself to thank the barman and collected her change, dropping it into her bag without bothering to find her purse.
“Yes. My mother always says, 'neither a borrower nor a lender be.'”
Brodie brought his hand towards her face. Between his fingers was the safety pin she had given him earlier. She took it from him and laughed as he pushed himself closer to her, trapping her between the bar and him. His muscular six-foot frame pinned her gently to the shiny wooden surface as he pressed his hips against her. His hard length nestled at her back set her blood dancing and she was left in no doubt as to what exactly was under his kilt.
“Brodie...” She wanted him. Oh, how she wanted him. But she couldn't afford to have him. The emotional cost of having him and then leaving to go back to Glasgow may very well crush her. As a child she had cared deeply for her friend and the
short time she had spent with him today had proved that those feelings had only been hidden rather than lost. He moved slightly and turned her in his arms.
“It'll be very embarrassing if I have to move away from you just now. It's not like I have a sporran on to hide my predicament. Dance with me,” he urged.
Fiona chuckled and placed her arms around his neck. They moved slowly into the throng of couples on the makeshift dance floor. Brodie caressed her hips as he brought his hands down over her bottom and squeezed, drawing her closer to him and rubbing himself against her. His groan of desire was muffled by the skin on her neck as he skated his lips over the delicate flesh.
“You're not doing anything to improve your predicament,” she warned him.
“I don't care,” he muttered, nibbling gently on the lobe of her ear. He stroked the cheeks of her butt before moving the fingers of one hand lower, prodding between her legs and almost reaching her core, despite the layers of cloth between them. It took all her will power to draw back slightly, preventing herself from rubbing harder against him.
“Brodie, this is dangerous. We're in public.”
“Hmm.” He started to move, steering her through the other couples and farther away from the bar. The sudden chill of night air made her gasp as he grabbed her hand and dragged her out into the street. The road was lit by a few street lights, but it was much darker than the pub had been. Even still, she could see the tenting of his kilt and smiled at the effect she clearly had on the handsome islander. It felt good to know that she was desired – and by the same person who used to tease her for being ‘a ginger.’ He seemed to like her mane of long red hair now.
“Why are we out here,” Fiona asked, breathlessly. He stopped and looked at her then grabbed her hand, pulling her along the road. “Where are we going?”
“I'm taking you home.”
“You are? Why?”
“Because, if I stay out here with you much longer, I won't be responsible for my actions.”
“And what actions might those be?”
“Stop flirting, Fee. You were the one who, a few hours ago, was telling me she was not ready and doesn't do one-night stands.”
She allowed him to drag her along a few hundred yards. She really did want him. Her nipples were like tiny rocks chafing against the fabric of her bra and her legs like jelly. She needed his strength, his hardness to press against, to disperse the frustration that mounted with every minute that passed. If she went into this with open eyes, she couldn't be too badly hurt surely.
She dug her heels in, and Brodie came to a stop, turning around and raising a questioning eyebrow.
“Would you be interested in a fling? A holiday romance, I suppose. No strings attached.”
“I thought men were the unromantic ones.” He inched close and caught her around the waist. “And yes, much as I want more from you, I'll take what you're willing to give for now. You know, as we grew up, I always assumed you and I would marry. We were best friends and I thought we always would be. Then the summer before university, you wouldn’t speak to me and since then I’ve wondered what I did to upset you. I really wanted to make it up to you and hoped that one day you’d be my girlfriend. I guess I didn’t want that childish notion to end. So yes, Fiona Campbell, I will be your Highland fling and I’ll keep my fingers crossed for more. ”
He really did want her and always had. As a child she had also just assumed she would marry her best friend. If only she could reconcile her past to be with him. But that wasn’t possible. The past could not be undone and she lived in Glasgow while Brodie lived on the tiny island.
“OK, a fling it is. But let's take it slow, for now.”
Brodie pressed his lips against hers as he tangled the fingers of one of his hands in her long thick hair. She granted his tongue access, causing him to groan. He pulled her hips closer to him. She was lost in his warm, sensual kisses, rubbing herself gently against him, increasing her own desire. Neither of them noticed the car headlights until the driver hooted the horn. They looked up to see some of the people who had been in the pub earlier grinning at them through the windscreen.
“We're in the middle of the road,” he pointed out.
“Yes, it appears so.” She buried her head against his chest to hide her embarrassment. As they moved to the side, the car drew up alongside them, the car engine quieting, accentuating the low burr of the electric windows as they were lowered.
“Get a room!” shouted Donald. Gerry whooped loudly and started a round of applause, while Craig tunelessly whistled the wedding march.
Fiona continued to push her face into Brodie's shirt but she giggled as he called back to their tormentors, “Jealousy is an ugly emotion. And you guys would know all about being ugly.” The relief of pressure on her shoulder told her that Brodie had removed his hand and was making a rude gesture as the revellers drove off.
Once the noise of the car engine had abated, Fiona extracted herself and grasped his hand, heading off in the direction of home. As they walked, she told him about Glasgow and her life there. Brodie spoke about how pleased he was that all the crofters were making it through the recession.
“You didn't really need a new tractor, did you?”
Brodie tightened his lips and two lines of discontent appeared between his brows. “What are you implying, Ms Campbell?”
“That you told my dad you wanted a new one so you could give him your old one and he wouldn't refuse to take it.”
“You don't give your dad enough credit, Fee. He knows fine that I didn't need a new tractor. But he's sensible. He'd rather swallow his pride a bit than risk the croft going into receivership. Not that we would let that happen. The whole story of my desire for a new tractor was just an act so neither of us looked like we were being unmanly. Everyone knows the truth. It's all a game.”
“So you are giving my dad a relatively new tractor for nothing?”
“It's an investment. If the croft goes under, the estate doesn't get the rent.”
“Yes but...” He placed his finger over her lips. She knew the cost of the tractor would be at least a year's rent for the croft.
“But nothing. OK? There is nothing more to be said on the matter. We look after our own on Kilrigh. Even those who go off and hide in Glasgow for five years.”
She was about to protest when he scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the field, taking care to shut the gate behind him. The deep lowing of the cows didn’t deter him as he gingerly side-stepped cow pats, heading for a barn on the other side of the field. Fearing he would drop her, she remained silent until he put her down, opened the barn door and ushered her inside. He pulled a cord in the centre of the barn and a solitary light bulb illuminated.
“When did Kilrigh get electricity in barns?” she asked, frowning. “And why are we in Angus MacDonald's barn?”
“Angus will be tucked up in bed and won't notice we're here. Over the last few years, we’ve been generating some of our own electricity. This barn has a small wind turbine on the roof that powers the light. And I brought you here so I could kiss you in private.”
“Oh you did?”
“Yes.” He bowed his head and captured her lips as he backed her up against one of the old wooden pillars in the barn. This time the kiss was not tender and had no finesse. It was raw and powerful; full of need and desire. They touched, caressed and stroked one another’s bodies frenetically, until he started to roughly palm her breast. She turned her attention to fighting with the buckle at the side of his kilt. Eventually managing to free it, she set about opening the other and sighed with relief when the heavy tartan garment dropped onto the barn floor.
He fucked her mouth with his tongue, a foretaste of what he what he wanted to do with his cock. Pulling her skirt up and growling with frustration, he ripped her lacy underpants at the seam.
Fiona thought she should protest but, if she was honest, this was the hottest thing she had ever done and she was enjoying herself. He ripped the seam at t
he other side and what was left of the skimpy garment fell onto the floor. He pushed his knee between her thighs and pressed against her. She withdrew from the kiss to nip and suckle at the skin on his neck and shoulder.
Fiona rode his thigh, the heat in her belly becoming an inferno, her desire now unquenchable. She grasped his buttock, digging her nails in and urging him to rock harder and faster against her as she curled her fingers around his long thick erection, providing friction for him. He bit into her shoulder.
“Mmm, kiss,” she pleaded, waiting for him to move his head before catching his lips in a desperate kiss. A rough battle ensued as she licked, sucked and nibbled at his tongue and lips, attempting to keep contact despite the frantic movement of their hips.
“I'm going to come,” she managed through her ragged breath.
“Me too,” he breathed, into her ear as he rested his cheek against her and pumped harder into her clenched fingers.
Fiona felt the climax roll from her groin to her belly before it exploded through her body. Her legs went weak as she screamed out and she grabbed Brodie's shoulder to hold herself up. He was quick and tightened his grip on her waist, holding her shuddering body to his own.
He moved his free hand around her clenched fingers, tightening her grip on his cock. She was barely aware of his last few thrusts before he cried out a profanity and warm liquid spewed over both their hands.
He leaned his head on the pillar beside her, his ragged breath blowing her hair. Fiona leaned back, trying to find her equilibrium, and let go of his slowly deflating cock. She rested her hand lightly on his hip and looked up at him.
“Well that was–” She was lost for words. She had never had such intense sex. And it had never been so good, or so hot, despite the fact that he had not penetrated her.
“Fucking fantastic,” he supplied and lifted his head to grin at her.
Highland Fling Page 2