Chapter Thirty
Walker
A light rain was falling outside, and the pavements were slick and shiny.
Walker carried Gabi home, not because she couldn’t walk – as she asserted several times – but because she couldn’t walk on her crutches fast enough for his liking.
He needed to get her home and naked. Now.
So, she carried her crutches, and he carried her, back to his riverside house.
The stairs didn’t slow him down; he took them two at a time. When he clicked on the bedroom lamp, Fatboy Jim took off like a shot from his position mid-duvet, vacating the bed for the night shift. The cat just made it through the bedroom door before Walker kicked it shut.
He lowered Gabi to her feet and gave her a moment, to make sure the next decision was hers.
She didn’t hesitate, her hands roaming over his chest before grasping the ends of his bow tie and pulling him down towards her.
Their mouths found each other, her lips open on his.
He ground her against him, kissing her more and more deeply until she gasped. He felt himself hardening at the sound.
Gabi pushed his jacket off and it fell to the floor. Her fingers pulled feverishly at Walker’s shirt buttons, tugging until she was finally pressed to his bare front, breaking from his mouth to drop kisses across his stomach, trace his tattoos with her fingers, moan into his shoulder.
Walker peeled one of the straps of her dress away from her body, and then the other.
The satin fell down her arms, leaving her collarbone and shoulders pale and naked.
He bit the soft side of her neck, playfully, gently, but hard enough to make her head fall back.
He held her away from him to roll the dress all the way down her body to her waist, uncovering her inch by inch, his eyes lingering on her bare breasts, her stomach.
She watched him now, breath heaving. He continued, moving the fabric over her hips and thighs, revealing lacy pants.
Her dress now lay forgotten, a puddle of fabric on the floor.
Her hands moved to his kilt, fingers fumbling trying to work out how to unfasten it.
Walker wanted her hands on him, her mouth, but not yet.
First of all, he wanted to pay the right amount of respect to that body.
He’d never seen one like it: delicate but so strong.
It made him crazy. He caught her hands and held them still.
She blinked at him, and he noticed how desire made her face soft: her lips seemed fuller, her brown eyes shone like the richest chocolate.
‘I need these out of the way for a while,’ Walker said, motioning towards her captured hands which he held in one of his own.
He pulled at one end of his bow tie and it slid around his shirt collar, falling off in one long, black strip.
He let go of Gabi’s hands and snapped his tie straight, raising an eyebrow questioningly at her.
She tilted her chin and the tiniest smile flitted across her face. She held her palms out towards him. Fuck, the things he wanted to do to her right now.
‘Are you sure?’ Walker asked.
‘Yes.’ Gabi pressed her wrists together, ready to be tied. He bound her and her breathing deepened as he pulled the knot tight. Walker nudged her backwards until she was leaning against the bedroom wall, before lifting her hands above her head.
‘Keep them there,’ he ordered. She nodded, eyes burning into him as he touched his hand to her throat and trailed it down to her clavicle.
Then she closed her eyes and her lips parted as she drew in a deep breath.
Without her distracting hands, Walker could move slowly as he touched her, brushing her shoulders, tracing the front of her chest until he dipped his head, holding her breasts in both hands and moving from one to the other, catching her nipples between his lips, nipping them with his teeth, flicking them with his tongue.
She gasped and pressed into him, the urge to touch him almost overwhelming, her hands moving towards him.
‘Don’t move,’ he ordered as though he could sense her intention and she raised them again to the wall above her head.
He knelt.
Putting his thumbs in either side of her underwear, he inched them down over her hips. They skimmed her thighs and got caught on her boot, before he freed them and pushed them to the floor.
His face was inches away from her sex. He held her in his hands, and the waiting made him harder.
His hands spread across her taut stomach, moved around the curve of her hips, caressed her body until his fingers were drawn closer.
Walker traced his thumb downwards until he separated her folds and felt the slick heat of her.
Using his fingers, he explored her, rubbing the wetness of her.
‘Walker,’ she said above his head and he couldn’t wait any more. He stood and lifted her in his arms in one movement and laid her on the bed.
‘I want my hands back . . .’ she whispered urgently, straining against the knot, and he pulled the tie undone.
Freed, she wound her arms around his neck to return his force with her mouth.
He was so hard for her. He pulled back to strip off his shirt and let his kilt drop to the carpet before standing in front of her, watching a small smile of satisfaction flick over her face when she got the answer to her question.
Scotsmen wear nothing beneath their kilts.
She put her hand out to him, urging him to the bed. He didn’t need asking twice.
His hands claimed her body as it strained against him.
Lying beside her on the bed, he turned her onto her side, taking the weight away from her boot.
He moved behind her and encircled her with his arms, pressing his chest to her back, kissing the nape of her neck where her short dark hair ended.
His hands reached around her to fondle her breasts, her nipples.
His dick pressed against her buttocks, and she pushed back against him.
He reached around her hip and found her clitoris. He slipped his knee between hers and held her open as he made sure she was ready for him.
‘Please,’ she said, letting her head roll back onto his shoulder. ‘Please.’ Her begging set him on fire. He pushed two fingers into her and she arched in return. She was ready.
He lifted her legs wider with his knee and his cock nudged against her. He eased into her slowly, stretching his way, a centimetre at a time, until she moaned out loud.
‘Enough?’ Walker asked, grinding his jaw, trying to keep himself under control.
‘No,’ she whispered. ‘More.’ It was all he needed. He thrust into her, right to the hilt.
‘Yes,’ she groaned.
He withdrew, right to the tip, and thrust again, and again, and again.
Their bodies rocked with each movement, his front to her back, their breath noisy, their bodies slick with sweat.
His hand found her clit again and thumbed her in time to his fucking.
She arched and made small, animalistic noises that made him hold her tighter, fuck her harder.
‘Walker, I’m close,’ she said and he lost what was left of his control. He plunged into her, again and again, as he felt the tension build and build, until he heard her cry out, and then he let himself fall into the abyss.