Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
LACHLAN
After Finn finally drifts off—exhausted from sun and sand—I find myself at my bedroom window, staring across the back garden towards the granny flat. A soft glow spills from Blair’s window, and though I can’t see from here, I know she’s still awake.
I should go to bed. Let today end on the perfect note it’s already struck. Maintain some bloody boundaries.
Instead, I pad barefoot through the house and out the back door, the night air cool against my skin. My pulse quickens as I cross the garden and knock on her door.
Blair opens it almost immediately, like she was waiting. She’s in soft cotton shorts and a vest, her hair loose around her shoulders. And her eyes... warmth, mischief, an invitation I’ve no strength to refuse.
“You here to give me another goodnight kiss?” she asks, that American directness I’m coming to love threading through her voice.
“Aye,” I rasp.
This kiss isn’t innocent like last night’s. I frame her face with my hands and take her mouth, hungry for the sweetness I’ve been thinking about all evening. She melts against me, fingers fisting in my shirt.
We stumble backwards into the flat. I kick the door shut, lips never leaving hers. She tastes of heat and salt air, and I can’t get enough.
“The curtains!” she gasps suddenly. “Can’t get up to mischief in front of Gerald.” With a cheeky wink, she goes over to the window, where that plant of hers still sits on the sill, and yanks the fabric closed.
I chuckle, heat thrumming low. “Looks like you’ve learned your lesson. Close the curtains first, then get your tits out.” I catch the hem of her vest top, tugging it upwards. “Or rather, let me get your tits out.”
She gasps but laughs as I tug the vest over her head, and Christ, the sight of her bare chest nearly stops my heart. Four years I went without this hunger, without touching or wanting like this, and now she’s all I crave.
Her tits are perfect, small and pert, nipples already erect in the cool air. I can’t stop myself from cupping one, marvelling at the soft weight of it, the firm peak jutting against my hand.
“Lachlan.” Just my name, but breathless, needy—and it makes my cock strain hard against my joggers, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide what she’s doing to me.
I back her against the wall, mouth at her throat, her collarbone, the sweet spot where neck meets shoulder. She tastes of clean skin and faint soap, better than any whisky, and I want to devour every inch of her.
Her hands are busy too, tugging at my T-shirt until I have to break away long enough to pull it over my head. When her palms flatten against my chest, fingers tangling in the hair there, a low groan rumbles out of me.
“Time to lose these,” I mutter, hooking my thumbs into the waistband of her shorts. I slide them down her legs, and fuck me, seeing her naked again knocks the breath from my lungs.
She’s beautiful. Pale silk skin, curves and hollows my hands itch to explore. A neat triangle of golden hair between her thighs. The rise and fall of her chest, quick with need. I’ve already tasted her, but the sight of her like this still makes me feel half-wild, undone.
“You’re staring,” she says softly, but there’s no self-consciousness in it. Just heat.
“Can you blame me?” My voice comes out gravelly. “You’re... Christ, I’ve no words.”
I don’t finish the sentence. Can’t find words that do justice to what I’m seeing, what I’m feeling.
So I kiss her instead, deep and hungry, my hands greedy on her body. The curve of her waist, the flare of her hips, the soft skin of her inner thighs... She shudders, gasping into my mouth.
When I cup her pussy, she’s already wet, and the feel of it makes my cock jerk hard.
“Please,” she whispers against my lips, and I don’t need to be asked twice.
I slide one finger through her folds, finding her clit, and she arches against the wall. She’s slick and ready, and when I circle that sensitive bundle of nerves, her hips buck against my hand.
“More,” she gasps, and I ease one finger inside her.
Christ. She’s tight, hot, gripping me like a fist, and I have to close my eyes for a moment to keep from losing control. When I add a second finger, she cries out, head thudding back against the wall.
I work her slow but steady, thumb on her clit while my fingers curl inside, finding that spot that makes her writhe.
She’s making sounds that wreck me—gasps, moans, broken little cries.
And now she’s rocking against my fingers, working herself on me.
Fuck, watching her chase her own pleasure is enough to break a man.
“Lachlan, I’m?—”
“That’s it,” I murmur against her ear. “Let go for me.”
And she does. She shatters, crying my name as her body clenches around my fingers. I nearly come myself just from watching her. The flush across her chest, the way her mouth falls open, the tremor that runs through her whole body—it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.
She sags against the wall afterwards, breathing hard, eyes glazed with satisfaction.
Then she focuses on me, lips curving in a dreamy smile.
“That was... incredible.” Her smile twists into something cheekier.
“And how about you? Did you...?” She tugs at the waistband of my joggers, peeking down.
“No! You didn’t blow your load. Well done. ”
I let out a rough laugh. “Barely. Another minute of that and I’d have been finished.”
She smirks at that, then yanks my joggers down, freeing my cock. Her hand closes around me—her skin warm, her rings cool—and a hiss rips from my throat. Christ! My hips jerk involuntarily.
“Still getting used to hands that aren’t your own?”
I nod, not trusting my voice as her fingers explore. When she tugs my foreskin down and slides it back up, clearly fascinated, I chuckle despite the fire racing through my veins.
“Again?” I manage.
She shrugs, grinning. “It’s still a novelty for me! Just trying to get used to all these differences. You Scots drive on the left, we Americans drive on the right. You say chips, we say french fries. Your cock’s uncut, my exes’ weren’t.”
The casual way she says it—like she’s listing off travel guide tips—actually makes me laugh, even though I’d rather she didn’t mention her exes while her hand’s driving me out of my mind.
“Anyway,” she continues, giving me a squeeze that blurs my vision, “I’d like this inside me now, please. It’s been a whole minute since my last orgasm and I’m getting a bit impatient.”
“Of course,” I rasp, then reality crashes back. “Oh, shit. I’ve... well, I’ve no condoms. There’s been no need for them. And, well?—”
She cuts me off with a laugh. “It’s fine. I’m on the pill, Lachlan, and clean. And based on what I know about your sexual history, I’m going to say you’re clean too. So...”
She moves to the bed, lying back and spreading her legs, offering me a view that makes my mouth water and my cock twitch desperately. Pink, glistening, so fucking perfect it makes my head spin.
“Come over here.”
For a moment I just stand there, drinking her in. Blair, spread out on rumpled sheets, a feast laid out for me. Then my body takes over, and I’m moving towards her like a man possessed.
I climb onto the narrow bed, settling between her thighs. My cock is so hard it’s almost painful, pre-cum beading at the tip. I grip myself at the base, line up with her entrance, and push inside in one slow, steady stroke.
We both gasp at the same time. The sensation of her surrounding me—hot, tight, perfect—is almost too much. I have to stop, buried deep inside her, just breathing.
“Okay?” I manage, searching her face.
“More than okay,” she whispers, and when she smiles up at me, something in my chest cracks wide open.
I start to move, slow and careful, watching her face for every reaction. The way her eyes flutter closed when I hit the right angle. The little gasps when I go deeper. The flush spreading down her throat to her chest.
“Still holding out on me, captain,” she teases breathlessly. “Impressive.”
I grunt, fighting to keep my rhythm steady. “Aye, but I’m not far off. That’s why I’m taking it slow.”
It’s true. Every stroke, every clench of her around me pushes me closer to the edge. But I want this to last. Want to keep her wrapped around me as long as I can.
When her breathing hitches, when her nails dig into my shoulders, I know she’s close again. Knowing I’m the one making her come apart nearly finishes me right there.
“Come for me,” I whisper against her lips. “Want to feel you.”
And she does, breaking around me with a cry that’s music to my ears, her body clenching and fluttering in waves that drag me over with her. I manage three more desperate thrusts before my balls tighten and I’m coming hard, spilling inside her with a groan torn straight from my soul.
For a long moment we just lie there, gasping, hearts hammering against each other. Then, while I’m still buried inside her, I find her mouth with mine, kissing her soft and deep.
When I finally pull out and collapse beside her, she curls into my side like she belongs there. No awkwardness this time, no panic about boundaries or mistakes. Just contentment, warm and golden in my chest.
“Stay a bit longer?” she murmurs against my shoulder.
I should go. Pretend I’ve still got some boundaries. Remember my bed is in the main house with my son and my dog.
Instead, I tighten my arms around her. “Aye. A bit longer.”
We lie there in comfortable silence, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my chest, my hand stroking her hair. For once, my head is quiet. I’m just here. Present.
Eventually, though, the pull of sleep tugs at me, and I know I need to go back to the house before I fall asleep in her bed.
“I should head back,” I murmur reluctantly.
She nods, understanding, and I force myself to sit up, to pull on my clothes. When I’m dressed, I lean over her one more time, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.
“Goodnight, Blair.”
“Night, captain.”
I step outside, the night air cool against my skin, but her warmth lingers with me back to my own bed and follows me into sleep.