Writing Mr. Right (7 page)

She’d managed to keep her moans to a quiet constant, but he still drew gasps and squeals every few seconds. She moved his hand from her stomach to her breast and he groaned in pleasure, squeezing her roughly.

Suddenly, he was at full height, dragging a chair over before he stopped to meet her watchful eyes. He smirked at her. “Enjoyin yourself, then?”

She tried to still it, but her face cracked wide open. She beamed at him and nodded.

“Good, I’m glad. Don’t look away.”

Before she could ask why, she stiffened as his fingers slid inside her. He smiled wide at her shocked expression. “Good girl.”

She exhaled at those words, triggered somewhere deep. He’d proclaimed his dominance and she accepted wholeheartedly.

He dropped to the chair, settling there at the edge of the table, her legs bent and floating up over his shoulders. His fingers moved with speed as his tongue darted against her. She curled into herself, wanting to watch him, his eyes closed, an expression of satisfied focus on his face. He glanced up at her suddenly, and the sight of his green eyes left her feeling utterly exposed. Before she could look away, he smiled, his mouth still against her. Then he doubled the speed of his fingers, watching her for response. Her head shot back and her spine tensed.

He groaned his approval. “Ye like that, don’t ye?”

She could only moan as her body tightened around his fingers. He kept his pace, smashing his mouth against her. She cried out, clutching his hair in her fingers.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god!”

She fought to watch him, her hips rocking against him as her feet danced, useless. Her head fell back and she held her breath.

The shudder was so violent, her hips jerked upward enough to almost buck him away. He maintained, keeping pace with both his hands and his tongue, and she came, the sensation leaving her throbbing.

She panted there on the table a moment, unable to speak. Garrett stood up from his chair, kicked it backward, apathetic to the loud crashing sound it made as it toppled onto its side. “Come here, woman.”

He took her by the wrist and tugged her upright, pulling her off the table and onto her feet again. Her legs were almost too weak to hold her up. He held onto her, spinning her around to face the table. Then with a gentle nudge of his hips, pressed over her, forcing her to bend down before him. He groaned, the groan giving way to a wicked chuckle as he lifted the hem of her dress.

“I think ye need to be taken roughly from behind, don’t ye?”

She whimpered softly, feeling his hands run across her bare ass.

The sound startled her almost as much as the sting as Garrett’s hand made contact with her right buttock. She screamed, reaching back to cover herself, but before she could, his open palm ran over the sore spot, caressing her. “Did ye like that?”

She couldn’t respond. My god, he spanked me, she thought. What will Cassie say?

She was too startled by the moment, by how right it felt, to respond. She made a strange noise, somewhere between a whine and a laugh. Yes, she liked it, but she didn’t dare tell him for fear he would do it again.

He took her by the arms and pulled her upright, forcing her back into him. He ran his hands over her stomach and took hold of her breasts, squeezing them gently. Then he grabbed the collar of her dress and pulled it down, yanking the cups of her bra out of the way. He took hold of her bare breasts, pressing his lips to her ear, letting her hear and feel his ragged breathing.

“My god, ye are breathtaking,” he whispered.

She arched her back, letting her ass press into him. He released his hold and she listened to the sound of his belt unfastening, lowering herself back down on the table to wait for him. She glanced over her shoulder.

He met her gaze and hummed appreciatively. “Keep watching me.”

He ran his palm across her still sore backside, his stare becoming too much for her to hold. She closed her eyes, letting the touch of his hand caressing over her bare ass be the strongest sensation. The same loud crack came, coupled with an even stronger sting as he smacked her ass again. She gasped in response.

His hand instantly returned to the sore spot, rubbing and soothing the sting away. “I told ye to keep watching me.”

“I know, I’m sorry!”

“Don’t apologize. Just do as you’re told.”

She laughed freely, her chest pressed to the tabletop. “Oh, you cocky bastard.”

He bent down and kissed the sore spot on her backside, then ran his fingers over it again. The sting was fading to a constant burn, making each graze of his fingers sing. She wriggled her ass from side to side, teasing him.

“Holy fuck, I doubt I’ve ever been this hard in my life.”

She beamed back at him. Her confidence was building and she couldn’t help but smile at these words. She reached back to touch him. He took her hand, placing it squarely on his cock, which was as rigid and smooth as alabaster. She gasped to feel him, running her fingertips over the smooth skin at the head of him.

“My god, you’re gonna get it.”

Suddenly he pressed his foot to the inside of her ankle, forcing her to step out. Then the other. Her legs were wide now, her belly pressed firmly to the table top. He ran his hand over her ass, then up between her legs, slipping his fingers against her as she held her breath.

“I don’t know if I can be gentle with ye, Georgia.”

She took a sharp breath, then swallowed. “I don’t want you to.”

She felt his weight on her back as he bent to her ear, tucking her hair aside as he whispered. “If ye need me to stop, just tell me.”

She nodded, feeling his fingers dig into her hips, lifting her to meet him. Despite the foreign feel of him, his touch betrayed a gentle concern. Even as he slapped her ass, he followed with soft reassurance. She didn’t doubt for a moment that if she needed him to stop, he would.

The head of his cock pressed against her, then slid home. She arched her back, shrieking in response to the sudden invasion. It had been so long since she’d felt this sensation, it almost hurt to take him. He pressed into her as deep as her body would allow, then retreated, his fingers curled into her hips.

“Holy mother of fuck,” he said.

He thrust again, still slow and deliberate, but he drilled a little deeper this time, making her brace against him. Another retreat, then as he pulled her toward him, he pushed himself to the hilt, letting her cry out in near pain.

“Tell me ye want me, beautiful.”

She gasped, bracing for another thrust. She nodded, but nodding wasn’t good enough for him.

He thrust again, then grabbed her arms, pulling her upright. He turned her face to him, pinning her back to his chest as he pressed his lips to her cheek. “Tell me. I need tae hear ye say it.”

“I want you, Garrett. I want you so fucking much.”

“Ye do?”

“Yes!”

He moved inside her slowly, as though learning his way. “Because I want ye too, Georgia. God, I want ye.”

She could hear the need in his voice, feel it in the way his hands explored her.

She kissed him. “Show me.”

He almost whimpered at these words, and answered by thrusting into her. She turned her head sharply, baring her teeth, and bit his jaw. He grabbed her by the hair, turning her to meet his eyes.

He moved with purpose then, pinning her down onto the table. Then he kicked her legs even wider, and buried himself in her. She screamed, but her cries were only rewarded by more thrusts, these in fast procession, growing in purpose. The table shook beneath them, its heavy legs grating against the floorboards.

He stood to full height, taking hold of her hips and pounding into her as she braced herself, screaming in response. She tried to move her feet, get her legs sturdy beneath her, but he spanked her ass hard, and kicked her legs aside again. The only thing keeping her upright was the table.

“Fuck, I’m gonna lose it.”

She turned to see his face, his lips parted, his brow furrowed in focus. She reached back to him, touching the bare skin of his hip.

“I want you to,” she said.

His eyes went wide, meeting her gaze as his face contorted. He grunted in an almost startled way, pushing himself in as much as holding onto her. His thrusts softened, as did his gaze. He inhaled in short bursts, held his breath, then planting his hands on the table at her sides, let himself fall over her. She could feel the warmth of his exhale against her cheek.

“Dear God, woman. What have ye done to me?”

She chuckled.

He kissed her shoulder, hoisted himself onto his elbows and kissed her cheek before standing up, pulling himself slowly from inside her. She took a moment, feeling her bare-ass cool as he pulled away. Then she stood up and let the skirt of her dress shimmy back down her hips. She turned to find him collecting the toppled chair from the floor, unable to find words to fill the silence.

He turned to face her and blew air through pursed lips. Then he slumped into the now righted chair, running his hands through his hair.

“That was, without question, the best Author signin I’ve ever had, here.”

She leaned against the table, laughing. “Really? Irvine Welsh wasn’t into spanking.”

He beamed at her, but recovered quickly. “Oh he was, but I was sore for days after.”

Her face flushed. Garrett had a new ease about him that made him all the more attractive. She half wanted to climb into his lap, but didn’t dare ask for more of him; this man she’d only just met.

“Where are ye stayin, then?” He asked.

“Down at the Premier. Publisher booked it for me.”

“Ah, no too bad. No too far away either.”

“No. Close to everything, they said.”

The small talk broke and the two sat in silence a moment. She squeezed her legs together, feeling the warmth and soreness of what they’d just done. She flattened her skirts down over her thigh, and turned for the table, righting the piles of books they’d knocked aside as they thumped the table a good foot or more across the floor. Garrett hopped up to join her, assuring her she needn’t trouble herself. She was already pulling the table back to its rightful place.

Garrett swooped down to pick up a few books that had fallen, setting them in perfect order on the table for the next morning’s customers to find, oblivious to what the table had been used for just hours earlier.

He made a soft hmphing sound, laughing through his nose. She turned to find him holding his copy of
The Seafarer
, reading her note.

“Perfect man, ae?”

She blushed. “I have reason to believe so, yes.”

He closed the book, tucked the chairs into the table, and retrieved her coat and bag from the back room, before shutting off the store lights. He held her coat out to her, helping her put it on. Then he led the way to the front door, the two of them in a strange limbo of silence.

She stood on the cold street as he locked the shop doors, listening to the distant sound of people laughing and enjoying their night out. She turned to him, steeling herself to say good-bye. His lips were on hers before she could form words. She melted into him, letting him hold her upright as she returned the kiss. He bit her lower lip, gently, then stood to his full height.

“Well then. Still want that drink?”

She smiled and nodded. “I would love -”

“That is, before I take ye back to your hotel and wake the neighbors.”

She blushed, exhaling against the new surge of sensation that fired between her legs. She felt almost relieved to know she’d get to have him again before she headed back to Edinburgh and the rest of her life.

He took her hand in his and led her down the street. “Hopefully all the horny ladies will have gone home by now and ye won’t be bothered at the pub.”

She hustled to keep pace with him, smiling so wide her cheeks began to hurt. They’d walked several blocks before Georgia stopped short.

“What’s wrong?” Garrett asked, his tussled hair spiked above his smiling face. “Pub’s just along the road there.”

“My underwear. I left them in the shop.”

He snorted, raised an eyebrow and glanced around the quiet street. “Did ye, now?”

Garrett pulled her into a nearby close and with a wry smile, began to hike up her dress again.

CHAPTER FIVE

Woman In White – Page 32

Douglas wrapped the rope around his calloused fingers and in two fluid movements, tied a perfect knot at my wrists. I glared up at the green eyed bastard and when he shot me a grin, I spit at his feet.

“You can’t keep me here! I’m a passenger on Her Royal Navy’s ship, The Olympus! They’ll come looking for me.”

He raised an eyebrow, appraising me. It wasn’t a lie. He didn’t need to know how I came to no longer be a passenger on the Olympus, by any means.

“Tell me, lass. Did ye jump willingly, or did they cast ye off?”

I set my jaw. “Neither.”

Douglas MacCready crouched down before me and gave the ropes at my wrists a tug. I watched his hand with careful consideration. He had strong hands, and I knew if I tried to fight him now, those hands could very well snap my neck. He turned his right hand over and I saw the puckering of the skin across his knuckles; a long white and jagged line. I flinched at the sight. Surely he’d earned that mark by a sword or a whip, some violent altercation that left the other man far worse for having met him.

He chuckled, gesturing to the mark on his hand. “Looks as bad as it was. I’ll let ye guess how I got it, then, ae?”

***

Garrett woke with the sun, a strange sight for a February morning in Scotland. He’d forgotten to close the blackout curtains the night before, and the white walled room was quickly growing brighter with each passing moment. He breathed deep, tucking the comforter up over his chest.

The gentle touch of long fingers sliding over his stomach reminded him why he’d been too distracted the night before to close the curtains. He felt her breasts pressed to his bare back, and one of her legs slid over his.

He smiled, then reached for Georgia’s hand, interlacing his fingers with hers. “I’ve never been the little spoon before. It’s rather nice.”