When he told me he wanted us to get away for the weekend, I was so excited that I even forgot for a moment about all the other crap going on in my life. And that’s the problem. Dylan’s being so wonderful, I keep forgetting.
But then, a few seconds later, it hits me all over again like a ton of bricks: at the end of this weekend, I’ve just gotta finish things between us.
“What are you thinking?” he asks, smiling so innocently at me, oblivious to the horrible thoughts I’ve just been thinking.
“Nothing,” I mumble, feeling so damn guilty.
“Hey, don’t worry!” he laughs. “You’ll find out where we’re going soon enough. For now, all you need to do is just sit back and enjoy the ride.” And he flashes me another big smile, white teeth shining, totally clueless to what I’m really thinking about.
“You’re so cute when you’re trying to work out what’s going on,” he adds softly. “But I’m just not going to give in and tell you. So you just relax. Okay?”
“Okay,” I reply, forcing a smile onto my lips, trying to stay right here in the present with him – trying to savor this final time alone with him.
But of course I’m already thinking again about the future; about my future without him.
§
A few hours later we land, and I get my first clue as to where we are. The countryside all around us is lush and green and hilly, and my suspicions are confirmed when I set eyes on a nearby signpost.
“Scotland!” I gasp. “No freaking way! We’re in Scotland? Really, Dylan?”
He laughs and nods. “I knew you’d love it. I’ve wanted to take you here for such a long time. I’ve told you that my ancestors were from these parts, right?”
We’ve landed at a small private airfield, and so we’re ushered through customs in a matter of minutes, before I’m escorted into a waiting limo just outside the gates to the airport, the huge black car gleaming in the sun, its engine purring away.
“Smooth,” I say.
“And this is even smoother,” he says, taking a step behind me. A moment later my vision goes black, as he slips a silk blindfold over my eyes then ties it firmly behind my head.
“Hey!” I say. “No fair!”
But I can tell by his voice that not only is he enjoying this, but that there’s no way in hell I’m going to convince him to let me take it off.
“I wanted to put it on you as soon as we landed,” he confesses. “I was hoping I might even get away without you finding out we were even in Scotland just yet. So I guess you’re just going to have to get used to not knowing where you’re going once again.”
“Dylan!” I shriek. “Now this really isn’t fair!”
“Life’s not fair sweetie,” he laughs, unaware how true those words are for me right now.
I hear the soft clunk of the limo door opening, and then I feel his strong hands on my shoulders, guiding me into the car. I sink into the soft leather seat, hearing him close the door behind us, and then a moment later the growl of the engine as the car begins to drive us away.
“Don’t worry,” his voice whispers in my ear, so close that his breath is flickering across the skin of my neck, sending a sudden thrill of excitement right through me. “Since you can’t enjoy the view, I’ve got a few other ideas to help you relax and take your mind off things.”
“Dylan,” I murmur, as I feel his lips touch against my neck. “Is this okay?”
“Of course it is,” he whispers back. “The driver can’t see or hear us. I promise.”
I sigh as I feel his hand slip between my legs, my body responding to him despite myself – and right now, I realize this is exactly what I need. Right now, all I want is to give myself up to him, to let go for a while, to push out all the many crazy thoughts that are still crowding my brain and just get lost in this moment, to enjoy him while I still have the chance.
So I part my thighs, as his fingertips graze upwards, closer and closer to the part of me that’s aching and burning for his touch. And as he touches me there, his fingers grazing my clit through the fabric of my panties, sending a cascade of pleasure through me, I sigh again, all my senses heightened by the blindfold, as I feel his lips touch against my neck too, while his other hand softly yet firmly cupping my right breast, his thumb coaxing my nipple to a hard point through the flimsy silk of my blouse.
As he pushes my panties to the side, I feel myself melting, totally aching for him, and I let out a long slow moan as I feel his fingers slip inside me, each confident movement of his hand bringing me closer and closer to the edge.
I arch my back, my next moan stifled as his lips press against my own, his tongue pushing deep into my mouth, his fingers deep inside my pussy, my whole body trembling and burning for him now, as I feel his thumb start to tease my clit too.
“Just let yourself go,” he growls. “I can tell your close. And I’ve been wanting to make you come like this all day. Come for me, Julia ..”
I throw my arms around his neck, drawing him tight against me as I do, so hard that my whole body shudders, my lips crushed against his, my pussy clenching around his fingers, and for the briefest moment I really do forget.
§
Finally the limo comes to a stop, a little while later.
“Are we there yet?” I ask.
“Nearly,” Dylan replies. “Wait there.”
I hear him open his car door and walk around to my side then open my door. He reaches in and gently lifts me to my feet, guiding me out into the cool outside air.
“Take off your blindfold,” he commands.
I do just as I’m told. And oh my god.
“Is that a castle?” I say, blinking my eyes to focus on the breathtaking, ancient building in front of me, towering up against the bright blue sky like something from a picture book. I just can’t believe my eyes. This is insane.
“Yes it is,” he replies coolly. “Or more accurately, I guess you could say it’s my castle.”
“You own a freaking castle?!” I blurt out, shaking my head.
“I told you!” he laughs. “My ancestors came from around this area.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t tell me that they owned it! This is unbelievable, Dylan!”
“Beautiful, isn’t it. And soon it’ll be yours, too, baby.”
“Oh, wow, yeah, I almost forgot,” I murmur, wishing that he hadn’t brought that up again – the wedding that can never, ever happen.
§
“M’lady,” Dylan says, bowing before me, every inch the aristocratic lord. We’re standing at the entrance to the castle and he pushes open the huge dark wooden doors, revealing the most magnificent hallway beyond, freshly scrubbed marble floor gleaming, and an impressive selection of paintings hanging from the walls.
There’s so much history here. This place must be hundreds and hundreds of years old.
And while hallway might huge, there’s an enormous fireplace blazing away to keep us warm.
“This place must cost a fortune to heat,” I observe.
“Yes, it does rather,” he laughs. “But we don’t keep it going all the time you know. I let the staff know that we were coming.”
And as if on cue, a kind-looking woman comes towards us, smiling warmly.
“Mr Campbell,” she says in softly-spoken Scottish accent.
“Mary! So good to see you!” Dylan replies, stepping up to give her a big welcoming hug. “This is Julia, my fiancé.”
“I’ve set the fires going and there’s fresh linen in the master bedroom,” she offers.
“Come on,” Dylan says, turning to me and taking my hand. “I want to give you the full tour.”
§
The next few hours are a wonderful blur, as Dylan leads me all around the castle and grounds, offering up little stories and anecdotes about each of the man, beautiful rooms we stumble across. It’s such a wonderful historic building, like something out of a fairy tale. It just couldn’t be more perfect. And before I know it, we’re sitting at a large table i
n the sumptuous candlelit banqueting hall, sipping vintage wine, about to be served a delicious, home-cooked meal.
But no sooner have we taken our seats, than Dylan is keen to talk about his new favorite topic: our future.
“I know it’ll be difficult at times,” he says. “I mean, it won’t just be my business schedule we’ll need to consider. There’ll be your dance career as well. But I’m confident that we can make this work and spend as little time apart as possible. Mom’s always saying, marriage takes hard work and commitment. I’m so glad I’ve chosen a life partner who’s as committed to this as I am. I just know we can make this work, Julia.”
But although Dylan talking right now, it’s his mother’s vicious words I can hear, echoing cruelly in my ears:
Do you honestly think you’re going to make it to the alter with my son?
I fight back another sigh, and try to keep the fake smile fixed on my lips.
He’s the most wonderful man in the world – too good to be true.
How am I ever going to say goodbye to him?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I wake in a huge four-poster bed, swaddled in fresh white cotton linen. I stretch out happily because I’m in paradise. This beautiful room is flooded with sunlight, the air is clean and crisp, and I can hear birds singing cheerfully in the castle grounds.
And then it hits me all over again: this is our very last proper day of happiness together. We fly back tomorrow. And then?
I turn over in bed, wanting to grab him tight, needing him so badly – especially when I remember that we didn’t even make love last night, just fell into bed, so sleepy and tired after our flight (not to mention all that delicious food), falling straight asleep almost as soon as our heads hit the pillows. I turn to him, but in a flash of panic, I realize he’s not there.
I push myself up in bed, worried, calling out despite myself. “Dylan? Dylan?”
Every remaining second suddenly seems so precious and I curse myself at not staying awake last night – of not making the very most of my last hours with him.
I’m about to call out again when the door to the room opens and in he strolls, dressed in a crisp white shirt and a kilt.
Woah.
“Like it?” he asks, nodding down at the dark red and green pleated fabric, that stops just below his knees. “It’s the Campbell family tartan.”
I laugh, but I have to admit, he looks pretty damn sexy, too – turning me on in a way I didn’t even know I liked.
“So,” I grin playfully. “Is it true what I’ve heard about guys in kilts?”
“I don’t know,” he smiles back. “Why don’t you find out for yourself.”
He strides towards me, stopping at the edge of the bed, just tantalizingly out of reach of my eager fingers. I crawl towards him on my hands and knees, gazing up at him, shivering with anticipation as I feel his blazing black eyes on my body, just as hungry for me as I am for him right now.
“So what exactly is it you’ve heard anyway?” he growls, locking eyes with me as I reach the edge of the bed before him.
“Oh, just that they don’t wear anything beneath their kilts,” I tease back, reaching out and sliding my hands up his strong muscular thighs.
And as they slip further beneath the heavy tartan fabric, sure enough my fingers curl around his thick hot cock, which is already growing hard for me. I look up into his eyes, watching them close with pleasure as I stroke him tenderly, feeling him growing to an impressive hardness in my fingers, as I cup his full, tight balls with my other hand.
“So it is true,” I whisper playfully, pushing the kilt up around his waist now, uncovering him.
And right now, I want nothing more than to bring him pleasure – to give myself to him completely.
So, still stroking him, I bring my face eagerly towards his cock, feeling the heat of him radiating against my face as I first tease the swollen throbbing head with little licks and kisses, before taking him fully in my mouth, enjoying the way he growls with pleasure as I begin to suck him, all the while stroking his shaft and cupping his balls, too, feeling him grow so damn hard in my mouth that I wonder if he might already be near the edge.
I close my eyes, taking him even deeper, all the way towards the back of my throat, shivering as I hear him moan softly, his hands moving in to my hair now, winding it tight around his fist, tight enough to make me groan, as much as I’m able, as I work my lips further and further down that pulsing rock hard shaft slipping deeper into my throat, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I extend my tongue, just enough to lap at the skin of his tight, shaven balls. With a breathy gasp, I pull my mouth off him again.
But don’t worry, I’m not finished yet.
“Come for me like this, Dylan,” I plead, wanting to let him know that right now all I want is to pleasure him.
Still stroking his cock, I take him in my mouth again, swirling my tongue in circles as I bob my head, faster and faster, sensing that he’s really fucking close now. He grips my shoulders, his whole body stiffening and trembling for a moment, and then with a final deep cry he explodes, flooding my mouth with his creamy liquid heat.
I gulp him back, my own body shivering too, realizing all over again that this is just another kind of goodbye.
§
As we walk into the dining hall for breakfast a little while later, Dylan pulls out the chair for me in a dramatic fashion.
“M’lady,” he says with a little bow, making me giggle all over again with his Scottish Laird act.
He hasn’t stopped playing the part all weekend and have to admit – I love it.
“So what’s for breakfast,” I ask once we’re both seated at the huge oak table, the sound of Mary bustling away in the adjoining kitchen.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he replies, “but I took the liberty of ordering for you already.”
“I don’t mind at all,” I say. “You have excellent taste.”
There’s already steaming pots of coffee and jugs of fresh juice on the table, and within moments Mary enters, dressed in a cute white pinafore, carrying two large plates. “Kippers and Scottish smoked salmon for the lady,” she announces in her warm Scottish accent. “And for Mr Campbell the full Scottish breakfast. “
“So what have you got planned for us today, Mr Campbell?” I say, once she’s left us alone again.
“I’m going to hazard a guess,” Dylan replies, “That you’ve never been pigeon shooting?”
“Never in my life!” I laugh. “But isn’t that kinda cruel?”
“Don’t worry, I don’t think these pigeons will feel anything,” he smiles enigmatically.
§
Dylan’s right, I realize, when Angus, our shooting instructor, shows us our targets. They’re called ‘clay pigeons’ – and are in reality nothing more than small lifeless discs of clay. He shows me how to handle a rifle, and then, once I’m just about up to speed turns to Dylan, asking if he’d like to give me a demonstration.
Dylan takes his place, carefully aiming his shotgun at the bright blue sky in anticipation of his target, and then there’s a pause before he calls out: “Pull!”
Angus releases a lever on the machine, and a second later the first of the clay pigeons flies into the air. I can hardly keep track of its movements, it’s going so damn fast, but Dylan somehow tracks it with the barrel of his rifle before ...
Bang!
The noise of the gun makes me jump out of my skin, and I watch startled as Dylan’s target shatters into pieces mid-air.
A second later he calls again – “Pull!” – and a second clay disk is launched into the air before being smashed into tiny fragments by Dylan’s second bullet.
“Wow, Dylan, that was amazing!” I say.
“I spent whole summers here as a kid, remember,” he explains modestly. “I’ve had tons of practice. Anyway, now it’s your turn.”
“Oh, no way!” I laugh, backing away. “I’ll kill somebody!”
“You’ll be fa
ntastic,” he reassures. “I believe in you, Julia.”
“Well, if you insist,” I sigh, as Dylan hands me the rifle, then stands behind me, showing me how to hold it safely, and how to line up my eye with the sight. “Just call out ‘Pull’ when you’re ready,” he explains, giving me a final reassuring squeeze around my waist before stepping back to a safe distance.
Here goes nothing.
“Pull!” I call out, and a moment later I hear the sound of the machine triggering the clay disc, firing it high into the air.
I squeeze the trigger and feel the rifle buck hard against my shoulder. No luck. The clay pigeon sails happily off into the sky, totally oblivious to my attempt to blow it to smithereens.
“Have another go,” Dylan urges. “I know you can do it.”
So I call out again, and the second disc flies into the air. I really concentrate this time, keeping it lined up in my sights, just the way Dylan showed me. I squeeze on the trigger and ... Bam! The disc shatters in a shower of splintered clay.
“I got it!” I shout happily, putting down my rifle then turning to Dylan who runs up to grab me in a big proud squeeze.
“I knew you would,” he says as he lifts me off my feet, spinning me around. “You can do anything you put your mind to, baby.”
“I’m having so much fun,” I say.
“I’m glad,” he smiles back, so innocently. “And I hope you feel the same way about tonight. I’ve got a plan, you see. There’s somewhere special I want to take you. It’s just a little local joint so there’s no need to get dressed up – and anyway, you look beautiful in everything you wear. But it’s kind of an important place for me and I really want you to see it with me.”
Dance: The Collected Series Page 32