Under His Kilt (3 page)

“Fuck no, but if that’s all I have to stay in, I’d rather that than outside.” He pushed the door open.

The bed was as plush as the carpet. Pillows galore, dark tones decorated his domain. She wondered if he made the bed himself, or had maids who came in. Probably maids. She couldn’t see Ian arranging pillows on the bed. Neither could she see him straightening the wrinkles in the sheets and comforters and tucking in the corners.

His words made her wonder but that’s not why they were here. She unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor. The faster she got out of her clothes, the faster she’d get over any insecurity and awkwardness about being naked in front of him.

Ian stopped at the bed and tutted. “Stop.” His gaze roved up and then back down. “Come here to me.”

Jocelyn’s fingers fumbled over the suit jacket’s buttons at the command but she shuffled to him. He’d settled on the edge of the bed and that made him eye-level to her breasts. Ian cocked his legs open for her to slide right in. She did. His thick thighs bracketed her knees.

She wasn’t close enough to feel the thick length of his erection. A shame because his cock sat up, proud and needy, pressing against the slate gray slacks in a way that made her mouth water. This close, the scent of his aftershave filled her next breath—decadent and musky.

Slowly he unbuttoned the suit jacket and shirt, pushing them open, exposing her lace-covered breasts. “Tell me, Joce, what haven’t you done?”

He started at her collarbone and trailed his fingers over the rise of her breasts, over the edge of the black bra as he held her gaze.

Aroused already, she found it hard to breathe normally. “Think it’s safe to say everything you probably have.”

“So you need to catch up before things really get interesting between us?” He traced her nipples through the thin material with his fingertips.

She trembled and nodded. His fingertips drew smaller circles, softly flicking at the sensitive buds. Heat scorched her skin.

“Not good enough.” He’d started the caress back up to her collarbone. Once at the top again, he let each finger have its turn teasing her nipples on his way down. He tugged lightly at the tips with his forefinger and thumb and then started over. Enraptured with the sensations, all she could do was shiver and let his fingers work their magic.

“I want you to
tell me
. All the things you’ve fantasized about. That’ll be the first task to do all the things you’ve never done. You have to ask for them. Maybe even beg for them. Otherwise, how else will I know?”

Her breath shuddered out. He grunted. “Take off the rest of your clothes. I want you bare.” He dropped his hands back down to the bed.

Nerves filled her stomach. This felt like seduction. No. More like a stripping down of all that she was. One layer at a time. Ian sucked in a breath when she’d stood in front of him without a stitch of clothes.

He held her gaze. “You’re a bonnie lass, aren’t you?”

He had the nerve to joke right now? She bit her lip but ended up smiling anyway. “No idea what that means, but I like the sound of it.”

“You would.” His voice was gruff. “Now tell me what you fantasize about. When it’s just you and your hand, what makes you come?”

At his words her nipples grew taut. Jocelyn licked her lips. She knew these were the rules for what she wanted. She had to tell him or he’d show her to the door. He’d given her the chance to walk away, but half mad and horny, she followed him from the museum to his home to have this, to have him without a whit of guilt. How many times in her life would she get the opportunity or, hell, have the guts to do this? Never if she didn’t do it now when nothing was on the line.

Her heartbeat shot into overdrive. “I—He’s—In my fantasies he’s sucking my breasts and massaging my clit. That’s the first thing he does.”

His gaze lit. “Not so hard to say, was it?”

“Easy for you to say.” She chuckled. “You’re just sitting there looking pleased.”

“I am.”

He splayed his hand over the hair covering her mound, groaned low and let his thumb dip into the crease, right to the entrance of her sex. She sighed, spreading her legs wider to give him better access. He smeared her heated, liquid arousal over her clit, back and forth, making the nub swell. Using his other hand, Ian grasped her left breast, light at first until she rocked her hips into his thumb. His groan was a thing of beauty and stoked a more potent response than his hand. She didn’t know what to do. Her mind had shut down any thought.

He rubbed his thumb over her in circles, catching more of her cream to ease the way around, and caressing the outer lips of her pussy with each rotation. Tilting his chin, he tucked her nipple between his lips and sucked the dark brown peak into his mouth. Her fantasies had never been this vivid. Of course, they couldn’t stand up to a man’s mouth and hand. He made her the center of the universe and asked for nothing in return as he sucked her nipple and rolled her clit. All because she’d told him that’s what she desired, he’d do it until she came.

She couldn’t have imagined the deep, abiding pleasure of telling this man suck me, fuck me and him obeying because the words had been spoken.

The heat built in small degrees, flashing over her skin, but the intensity sprang from both his mouth and hands. His tongue wet and laving over her nipple. His thumb slick and sliding over and around her clit and the inner lips of her pussy. Teasing, enticing caresses.

Her pelvis thrust forward, stilled. She lost her breath. Clenched but nothing was there to tighten around and milk. The orgasm ripped through her. She gripped his shoulders. He grunted, turning his face into her other breast but not letting go of the grip he had on the left one. And he kept up the tortuous rhythm of his thumb. She shuddered, hard, and her nails bit into his shirt. It wouldn’t surprise her to find crescent-like tears in the silk later.

Jocelyn didn’t care. Her head fell back and she crooned as she came. His teeth sank deep into the skin around her nipple. It should have hurt. Instead, the sting shot straight to her core, extending the already exquisite orgasm.

She tried to catch her breath but it was way ahead of her and her racing heart. She looked down into Ian’s gaze. The corner of his mouth was quirked up and he kept a slow, back and forth caress over the hooded nub that kept her shuddering, kept her pussy tingling and weeping at his touch.

Ian loosened his grasp on her breast but only to lovingly pinch the brown peak. “Are you ready to tell me the rest?”

He looked so much like a sex god so smug at making her come without so much as unbuttoning his shirt. That wouldn’t do at all. Not if they went at this for the next twenty-nine days as she envisioned. He couldn’t have the upper hand all the time.

Jocelyn wasn’t as experienced in the bedroom, but she knew enough. Men could turn into primitive beasts with the right provocation, especially in the bedroom. He hadn’t stopped touching her, leaving her bare and open, so it took no courage to say, “That wasn’t fucking me. I’m already disappointed.”

The gray in his irises darkened, and he eased her back, stood, turned her around and pushed her onto the bed. There was nothing but a soft sea of mattress and satin that felt cool against her skin.

“Arse up,” he growled.

Even with the command, Ian’s touch was gentle as he glided his hands down her spine, repositioned her the way he needed—spreading her legs wider, back arched higher, and face pressed into that cool satin. A wanton thrill pumped through her blood. At the command, at him, the smell of his sheets—decadent, enough so she almost bit into them just for a taste—her senses felt alive. She felt alive.

Jocelyn stayed that way for seconds, though it felt like eons, until his index finger caressed the seam of her sex before dipping into her. He was getting her ready for him. She wanted to turn around to watch, but his teasing ministrations had her on the brink again. Now, she had something to tighten around, but still nothing to milk.

He dragged his finger from her clit to the entrance of her sex and stopped. His breath panted out. “Your arse is tight. Something else you’ve never done?”

She felt exposed and the words refused to spill out so she shook her head.

“Relax.” His voice softened. “I won’t touch you there unless you tell me it’s your fantasy.”

Her fingers loosened on the comforter and she nodded again. Her knees dug into the bed while her feet hung off the edge. He shifted behind her, his bare thighs brushing the backs of hers. His hand rested on her tailbone and then she felt him, his cock at her core.

The rubber of the condom didn’t dim the effect of his dick swirling around her channel and hooded nub, round and round, lubricating him, preparing him for her. Her legs trembled and her hands fisted into the cover.

The anticipation was going to kill her. She could practically hear her frantic heartbeat. Ian felt thick and hot as he soaked his dick with her arousal, but then he pressed down into her and she
knew
just hot and thick he was. He stretched her wide and deep in that first thrust. So full of him but not enough. She moaned, clenching her sex to keep him there. His next thrust was harder, and he groaned.

Not enough, her mind screamed. She needed harder, dirtier and something just shy of vulgar. Teasing words tickled the back of her throat, and she had no urge to swallow them. Where was the man who said fuck and meant it? That man got her off. That man didn’t treat her like glass. And those words would give her what she needed—to feel alive, to feel like he craved her.

“That’s still not fucking me.”

His fingers buried in her hips and he thrust harder, deeper and faster. Over and over. The rhythmic pounding undid her. Heat flashed through her body and had her biting into the cover. That decadent scent reminded her of sandalwood, potent and somehow masculine. The scent transformed into a taste and filled her mouth. Musky. Man. Him. Her stomach tightened and she curled into the orgasm, slamming her ass back against him as she clenched hard and long around him.

He stopped and rode out the climax with her, breath rasping out but as soon as she relaxed, he pulled her back, gliding her sex over his cock. In and out. Pounding. Pounding. Every time she came, he’d stop, revel in it and start again. Deep and hard.

Her legs didn’t hang off the edge of the bed at some point. They’d screwed their way to the middle. If they kept going they might end up on the floor, on the other side. She now understood what he meant about breaking furniture kind of fucking. If the bed wasn’t as sturdy, they’d have collapsed it by now. Yes, he rocked his cock into her but when Jocelyn could feel her legs, she rocked back. She lost track of time and the count of orgasms.

Finally, she whimpered, “Wait,” and laid on her stomach, not able to hold herself up on her arms anymore.

“Tapping out,” he murmured, but she could hear the laugh.

“No.” She closed her eyes and sprawled on the bed.

Ian wrapped his arm around the bend in her right knee and pushed it up. He rested his body over hers and then bore down into her. Slowly. So achingly slow, he stroked her to yet another climax. This time he tensed, letting out a coarse groan before he shuddered behind her. All of his frame relaxed into hers, weighing her down into the mattress.

Jocelyn didn’t care. Was sort of surprised she could put together any thoughts that weren’t
eiadih agdiap blgft
. He dug his hands beneath her and rolled onto his back. His chest rose and fell on a fast pace. His heart labored beneath her ear, but all she could do was lay there.

“Your bun fell loose,” he said.

“Hmm.”

“I like your hair down.”

“Hmm.”

He chuckled. “Have I killed you dead?”

“Brraiiinnnsss.”

“Fucking music to my ears.”

It took a bit of effort but she rolled off him. He was right. She’d lost her hair band and her hair was damp, tangled and looked like only God knew what. They were both drenched in sweat. If she let it dry without rinsing off first, she’d smell dipped in sex, dipped in him. Jocelyn couldn’t have been more pleased.

Ian chuckled as he did away with the condom, tying the end and tossing it in the small trashcan near the nightstand. “Already thinking about what’s next?”

Her gaze slid down and her breath caught. Thick, hard and long. Again. She hadn’t recovered fully. He met her shocked stare with another smirk. Oh, miles and miles of bronzed, sculpted skin. Old scars. Tanned nipples. Male perfection.

“Yes,” she said, breathless.

“You’re trying to kill me. I’m fragile, Joce,” he said with a tired laugh. “Tomorrow?”

Greedily her eyes raked over his bronzed skin. Miles of muscles, too. Just beautiful. And she had an all access pass. Jocelyn was bound to hurt herself trying to get her fill.

“If you say so.” She swallowed but her throat was Sahara dry.

Swinging her legs off the edge of the bed, she found enough of her clothes to get dressed. Her panties had disappeared to the depths of the unknown. Ian stayed quiet, but she refused to look at him. Things might be awkward enough as is.

But after slipping into her shoes, she chanced a glance back at the bed. Bare-assed and asleep. He hadn’t bothered to pull the cover over himself. She narrowed her gaze. No. He wasn’t pretending. Now that she’d stopped stumbling around the room with her back to him, she could hear the light snores and see his chest rising and falling. Sleep. He looked harmless. Like any man. Not at all like someone who just tipped her sexual world upside down.

She almost stepped forward to drag the cover over him, but that was flirting with trouble. Hell, they hadn’t even kissed. Standing there, watching him while she was fully clothed, Jocelyn still felt stripped bare like a part of her had devolved to grunts and yearnings. Not sure how to deal with that, she left his opulent apartment and didn’t look back.

CHAPTER FOUR

Ian braced himself before stepping into Jocelyn’s office the next morning. He’d mentally prepared for awkwardness, guilt or embarrassment. Numerous other emotions that would show last night had changed how they’d react to each other while at work. He feared she would change her mind.