Chapter Twenty-Nine
Gretchen
I have a sexy, brawny Scot between my thighs.
How many women can say that? Although we're both still clothed, I'm already so wet that my panties are drenched.
I grind against him, not thinking, just moving in an erotic rhythm.
The friction of denim on my sensitive flesh makes me gasp and shiver with delight.
"Mhac na galla," Kirk snarls. "Ye're driving me mad, lass."
He takes hold of my hips with his big, calloused hands, guiding my movements as he thrusts upward. Even through our clothes, I can feel how hard he is. My head falls back as a breathy moan escapes my lips.
"That's it, mo leannan." His hot breath tickles my neck. "Let me hear ye moan."
Good heavens, the scent of him, pure sweat and man.
..it intoxicates me. I lean forward, bracing my hands on his broad chest, gliding them up and down, over and over.
His breathing grows ragged, and he fists his hands while writhing like the ravenous beast I worship and adore. I can't wait for him to consume me.
"We should stop," Kirk tells me, but his body betrays him as I roll my hips into his hardness again.
"Can't wait. Fuck me now, Kirk, please. I need your cock inside me, or I'll go insane."
"Ahm already there, lass." His blue eyes darken as if storms are brewing in their depths. "But I cannae claim your body when you're on top."
Shit. Of course he can't. Though I'm dying to feel him inside me, what I need right now is for him to rip my clothes off right this minute.
But when he tries to sit up, I wag a finger at him, "Uh-uh-uh, Mr. Balfour.
You will not move unless I say you can, and I will be the one undressing and screwing you. Got it?"
"Oh, aye. But how do ye mean to undress me? You're on top of me."
"Whoops, I keep forgetting that. Damn, I want you so bad I can't think straight." I wriggle some more, strictly to drive him wild. "I have skills you've never seen. Stripping a hot stuntman naked will be a piece of cake."
His mouth curves into a lascivious grin. "I'm waiting, lass. Show me these skills yer bragging about."
I return his grin with one of my own, feeling bold and powerful while straddling this mountain of a man.
With deliberate slowness, I slide my hands down his chest, reveling in the sensations of every ridge of muscle on his body flexing beneath the thin fabric of his T-shirt.
When I reach the hem, I slip my fingers underneath, touching bare skin for the first time.
"Christ," he hisses while I go on exploring his mouthwatering body.
"Patience, Balfour," I tease, inching the shirt upward to reveal his taut abdomen lined with defined muscles. "Good things come to those who wait."
I shift backward on his thighs, creating just enough space that I can push his shirt higher.
Kirk lifts his hips again, allowing me to remove the shirt completely, tossing it onto the floor.
For a moment, I can't move or breathe at the sight of his magnificently sculpted torso.
His broad shoulders taper to a narrow waist, and a light dusting of sandy hair covers his pecs before trailing downward in a tempting line that disappears beneath his jeans.
"Hurry it up, lass. I'm dying to gorge myself on your cream."
I glide my fingertips over his skin lightly enough to make him shiver in a disarmingly masculine way. "Dinnae leave me hanging, Gretchen. My dokey might explode."
His what might explode? Later, I'll ask him what that word means.
I've become fixated on the button of his jeans, and I need to focus intently to keep myself from simply shredding his clothes. Kirk Balfour might be the craziest man on earth, but I can't think while his hard length is straining against the denim of his jeans right beneath my fingers.
"Now for the real challenge." I work his belt buckle open with a practiced flick of my wrist.
"Impressive, lass. Ye've got untapped skills."
At last, I get rid of the button on his jeans, then slowly, torturously, I drag the zipper down, down, down. The way his chest heaves proves how much he wants me.
"Lift your hips," I command, and to my delight, the mighty Kirk Balfour obeys without hesitation.
I slide off his body momentarily, tugging his jeans down his powerful thighs. His black boxer briefs do little to hide his impressive erection, and my mouth waters at the sight of it.
"Ye're still clothed," he points out. "Thought ye were stripping me bare."
"All in good time." I climb back on top of him and settle my hips over his. "I'm gonna savor this, licking and stroking your dick until you beg me to ride you like a naughty cowgirl."
I catch his wrists, pinning them to the bed on either side of his head. "I said I'm in charge, remember?"
"Aye, but it's getting harder to follow yer rules." He bucks his hips upward, and the hard ridge of his cock presses into me through the thin fabric of our remaining clothes.
I lean over until my lips hover no more than an inch away from mine. "You need to learn the value of patience, Kirk."
"Never been good at that," he hisses, straining against my grip.
I release his wrists and lower my mouth to capture his lips in a kiss that begins at a leisurely pace but swiftly becomes steamy and desperate.
He coils his tongue around mine repeatedly while the taste of whisky lingers on my lips and the scent of my desire intensifies.
I nearly lose my resolve to take things slow, but the sight of his engorged cock encourages me to keep up the unhurried pace.
"You're too damn good at kissing, Mr. Balfour. How can you curl your tongue around mine that way? I'm starting to believe you're the serpent in the Garden of Eden, and I'm Eve."
"I've only just begun showing ye what I'm good at." His accent thickens when he's turned on, I've noticed, and that does delicious things to me.
I sit up, crossing my arms and grabbing my shirt. With one fluid motion, I pull it over my head and toss it aside. Kirk's eyes darken as they travel over the black lace of my bra.
"Mhac na galla, lass, you are a goddess." He cups my breasts and squeezes them, as if he intends to consume me like ripe fruit.
I want him to do that. Damn, do I want it, so badly my heart is racing. His big, callused palms feel too sinfully good on my skin. He brushes his thumbs over my stiff nipples through the delicate lace.
"Ye're perfect, mo leannan. But I cannae wait any longer. Fuck me, Gretchen."
I reach behind me to unclasp my bra. The straps slide down my arms, and I let the garment fall between us.
Kirk's eyes widen, his pupils dilating until there's only a thin ring of blue surrounding the darkness. "A Dhia."
"What did you say?"
"Oh God in Gaelic."
I feel powerful under his gaze, like a goddess being worshipped. He moves his hands, wanting to touch me again, but I catch them, placing them firmly back on the cushions.
"Uh-uh-uh, not yet," I say, my voice huskier than I intended. "I'm still in charge, remember?"
"Hurry, lass, or I'll beat off without ye."
"You won't do that. I want to see how long you can last before you break."
I shift my hips deliberately against his hardness, drawing a hiss from between his clenched teeth. The power I have over him is intoxicating, having this man at my mercy with his magnificent body laid out beneath me.
"Ahmno a patient man," he warns. "Might flip ye over and pound into ye like a maniac."
"Then this will be a new experience for you---learning patience."
I lean over him with my bare tits brushing against his chest, the sensation so wanton that my clit pulses.
"I might be in charge," I whisper against his ear, "but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy myself too."
His hands twitch at his sides, and I can see the effort it's taking him not to touch me. The cords in his neck are taut, and his jaw clenches. "Ye're playing with fire, lass."
I graze my fingers down his chest, following that tantalizing trail of hairs that disappears into his boxer briefs. "I want you to scorch me, Kirk. Set me ablaze."
With deliberate languor, I hook my fingers into the waistband of his underwear, tugging them down only enough to reveal the impressive V of his hip.
I'm teasing both of us now, and my body throbs with need, growing wetter every second.
I burn to see all of him, to touch and taste every inch, but there's something deliciously wicked about drawing this out.
"You're enjoying this too much, gràidh."
"Am I? Hmm, I assumed you could handle the heat, Balfour." I mash my lips to the hollow of his throat and give him a little nip. "Are you complaining?"
"No, gràidh." His chest rises and falls rapidly. "But I cannae promise I'll behave for much longer."
The admonition in his voice sends a sizzle through me like sparks of electricity. Part of me wants him to snap, to flip me over and pound into me. But I'm not ready to relinquish my power yet.
I dance my fingertips over his bare chest. "I haven't finished unwrapping my Scottish present yet."
I tug his boxer briefs down, down, down, exposing his dick inch by tantalizing inch until his full length of springs free, thick and hard against his stomach.
I wrap my fingers around him, and my breathing grows heavier, more ragged, just like his does.
He's hot and heavy in my palm, and when I give him a slow, experimental stroke, his hips buck involuntarily.
"You're about to get the blowjob of a lifetime, Mr. Balfour, once I get rid of my clothes and yours."
I strip away every stitch we're both wearing, leaving us buck naked.
Kirk's dick springs up, the head of his cock now rosy red and glistening with pre-cum.
My cream dribbles down my inner thighs too, and I need him inside so badly.
I straddle him, positioning his thick length at my entrance.
Then he grasps my hips firmly, and I begin to fuck him in earnest, wagging a finger at him when he rises onto his elbows.
Holy heaven, I can't believe how amazing he feels inside me, even better than the other times we got naked together.
"Yes, yes, yes!" I virtually scream those words. "Yes, oh God yes, Kirk, I worship your cock!"
His throaty chuckle makes me whimper. "Yer a raunchy goddess, lass, and yer all mine."