15. Chapter 15
Chapter 15
Malcolm
“ I want you to meet with her tomorrow, Malcolm.” Uncle Dougall insists. He’s chosen to corner me in my own office, away from Rush, Declan, or anyone else that knows the history between me and Clare.
“And why is that?” I ask, half facetiously.
He gives me a look. He was supposed to be staying in Scotland since the storm, but after its bark turned out to be worse than its bite, so to speak, at least in North Carolina, he flew back immediately. Far be it for Dougall to turn his back on an opportunity to brow beat me more. “You’re not daring to question my motives, are you, lad?”
If Rush was in here, right now, he’d be volunteering himself. But, this, once again, is punishment. “No, sir.”
“Good. Good.” He says, pleased, his pace changing back to bouncy as he walks around my office. “You go on home now and prepare. I’m sure that you have plenty of things to put in place, especially since you need to get Farley’s affairs in order.”
I purse my lips. “So, you haven’t considered giving him to an intern.”
There’s that look again. “Malcolm...” He warns.
“Fine.” I seethe. “You can reach me by cell for the rest of the day.”
Dougall blames me for all this bullshit. From the deal with Callum to the surprise pregnancy with Clare. All of it. And it’s not just because I’m not one of his sons, either, no. He’d peg any one of them responsible if it fit. This is all just because Dougall loves the kill. He loves to point the finger at someone, because that only means one thing: that nobody will point the finger at him. I gather my things and head home, leaving enough space in my driveway so that the landscapers can come and tidy up from the storm.
I’m thoroughly pissed off by the time I get home, so I bury myself in work, taking my mind off things. The landscapers arrive, do their work, and leave, and then I can feel my stomach growling I’m so hungry, so I make myself something to eat. It’s another hour before I realize that I’ve been working non-stop all day, and I still can’t come up with an angle to act so daft that Clare will never suspect that I know the truth. Nor will I ever get the truth out of her myself. The only way around this is to have security sniff around and find out if the bitch is really pregnant. And for that, well, we just don’t have the time, since the meeting is tomorrow.
My chest is tight with anxiety when I hear the gate alert me that someone is here. It’s nearly ten o’clock at night, and I wonder which cousin or brother is here, since it would be nobody else at this hour. Not without warning, anyway. When I look at the screen, I see who it is, and I’m intrigued. As I touch the screen to allow entry and walk out the front door, I watch her car pull up. “What are you doing here this late, lass? Shouldn’t you be at home convalescing?”
Steph has a smirk on her face that I don’t know how to read. She’s almost smug. And I’m not sure what this means, but historically, her attitude has been a problem, so I find my back up.
“I’m fine. Were you sleeping?”
I cut to the chase, not wanting to beat around the bush. “Dougall’s making me meet with Clare tomorrow. I’ve been trying to wrap my head around that fucking train wreck, so no.”
“Sounds like my day.” She concedes as I let her inside the house.
“You want me to start a fire?”
“Not unless you’ve fixed the fucking carbon monoxide detector.”
“Ah, shooting from the hip tonight, are you, lass.” I chuckle, pouring us each a glass of water. She’s sitting at the kitchen table, pulling a grape off the vine inside my fruit bowl. As she chews it, I hand her the water. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” I ask, sitting down adjacent to her. For once, I don’t need to worry about a snarky comment from her, or at least, my feeling is that she’s not here to rub my nose in anything. Or is she?
“When do you meet with the swine?” She asks, after draining her glass. I rise to refill it, and hand her it, but she leaves that one full.
“It’s a late meeting. Her da’s just coming in from Scotland in the morning. Won’t be until four o’clock. I can see us ordering in dinner, because she’ll ride it out as long as possible. No free rides with that psycho.”
“And what’s your plan?”
“To play it as dumb as possible. Make like I know shit when I know everything. Until those signatures are on the contract, at least.”
“And her da will be there, too.” She checks.
“Aye. They don’t sign anything separately. That’s what she says, anyway.”
“Does daddy dearest know about the bairn?”
“I have no idea. I’m not sure if that’s even the truth. The jury is still out on that score, lass. And that’s the part that’s making my head spin. This changes everything if she is.”
“Not necessarily, Malcolm.”
I tilt my head, intrigued. “How so?”
My phone rings and I lift my finger, telling her to hold that thought. It’s my brother, Rush. “Timing, brother. Not your strongest suit.” I answer with, placing him on speakerphone.
His voice is slurred. He’s clearly been drinking. “You know that bitch never even gave me head?” He opens with.
“Have you been into Dougall’s scotch again?” I ask, getting pissed off immediately.
“Declan’s, actually.”
“You’re a fucking freeloader, and now you’re turning into a fucking drunk. What do you want, Rush? I’ve got company.”
He ignores my statement. “She ever give you head?”
“I’m not fucking answering that, asshole. Next.”
Steph’s face mirrors mine. I’m sure the idea of that bitch doing any sexual favor is unsavory to her as much as it is to me.
“So, what are you going to say to her? Now that she’s carrying my bairn, that is. What if she decides to get rid of it? I’ll never know my own kid.”
I shake my head, raking a hand through my hair. “Rush, the facts, man. Before you go jumping to that, make sure you’ve got all the facts.”
“When you went out to lunch with her...did she drink anything?” He probes.
I rewind that part of the date in my head first before answering. It’s painful to recall that she refused a bottle of wine when I suggested it. But I brush it off, thinking that maybe that was just part of the act. Keeping me on my toes. “No. She didn’t. But that doesn’t mean anything.”
“She’s pregnant, man. I know. I saw the fucking test myself.”
My heart stops. My voice raises to a shout. “Then why the fuck didn’t you say so, you asshole! This complicates everything, goddammit!” I punch the table so hard the waterglasses rattle. Steph lifts her hand and waves, but I’m too pissed off to care. “You fucking idiot! I have to meet with this bitch and her da tomorrow, on Dougall’s orders, and now I have to look her straight in the eye, knowing this! Knowing that she’s got the fucking power to burn us all!”
Rush raises his voice, screaming at me. “Don’t you think I fucking know that! I know that I fucked up! And now I’m going to pay for it for the next eighteen fucking years! How do you think that makes me feel!” He’s shouting so loud his voice is distorted. If he was here right now, I’d plough him one, but instead, my fist balls up, and I’m about to punch a hole right in my fucking wall, when Stephanie hangs up on Rush. My chest is heaving, my teeth are grated together. Steph is on her feet, hands on my shoulders, eyes searching mine as I flip out, shouting out more expletives for my brother that isn’t on the phone any longer.
“Malcolm, you don’t have to worry about this.” She says, voice calm, even though my eyes are wild with rage, and my blood is boiling.
“What the fuck are you talking about! Of course I have to worry about this! Fuck, you’re as crazy as she is! All you lasses are fucking crazy!”
Her fingers comb through the hair at the sides of my head. “No...no, you don’t understand, Malcolm.” Her nose meets mine as her arms snake around my neck. “I went and saw someone today that’s going to take care of all that shit for you.”
My voice has lowered, but I’m still completely unconvinced. “You really are a nutcase, Steph. What the fuck are you talking about?”
“If you calm down, I’ll tell you.” She assures, kissing my lips softly, in an effort to calm me. It’s surprisingly effective as her hand slides down my chest, skating over my nipples, waking my cock up, whether it’s intentional to her or not.
“I’m calm, lass. Talk.” I tell her, falling under her spell.
“I did some digging on Clare. It seems that she’s stupid enough to keep her social media profiles wide the fuck open, like an idiot. That’s prime for someone looking for a weakness, and I found one. A good one.”
She’s almost purring, and her skin is on mine, as her breath grazes my face. Steph smells so good and her body on mine feels fantastic. It’s difficult to stay pissed off, especially when, for once, it’s not her that’s pissed me off. I want to kiss her so bad, to feel her lips on mine, since they’re so close I can almost nip her. “What do you mean?” I ask in a murmur, hands sliding down to her waist, trying like hell not to let them linger down to her ass, even though my dick is telling me to.
“It seems that our friend Clare is very much into fortune telling and all that psychic shit. And I found the freak ass fortune teller that she’s been seeing for years. I paid her off to... persuade our dear Clare that...let’s just say bad things will happen to her if she fucks any of us over.”
A ‘v’ forms between my brows. “And when the hell is she supposed to be seeing said psycho fortune teller?”
She bites her lip, eyes dancing. “Tomorrow morning she’s got an appointment. And, believe me, that woman was more than willing to take my money in exchange for the little white lie.”
I’m not sure how to take this. “And chicks buy that shit?”
She nods. “Evidently, Clare does. She’s got photos and memes and shit all over her Facebook and Instagram profiles from years back to as current as last month, all about this shit. She buys it as much as she buys money. It’s lunacy.”
“Do you think it’ll work?”
She lifts a brow. “With thirty thousand dollars, Madame Lacy can be very…pliable.”
My eyes bulge. “You gave the fortune teller thirty thousand dollars?”
She nods. “And I promised her free flights for life if it works out.”
I chuckle, surprised and taken aback. “And she doesn’t know who you are?”
Steph shrugs. “She knows who I am, but it doesn’t matter. With that money is embedded shut up money, too. And I can shut her down in a heartbeat if she reneges on any of it.”
Her breasts are pressed up against me. I’m so impressed. More impressed than any lass has ever impressed me before. I search her eyes. “Wh...why did you do that?”
“Why?” She scoffs, rubbing her nose on mine, almost kissing me she’s so close. “Because I’ve never hated a bitch more, that’s why. And when I found out that she was trying to fuck with you, well, us Scottish lasses don’t take that lightly. I didn’t get to where I am in life by sitting around, Malcolm.”
I cup her face with my hands. “God, you are the sexiest, most audacious bitch I’ve ever met.”
Her eyes search mine. Her mouth is upturned into a smile. “Yeah?”
I nod slowly.
Her voice is a whisper, as she asks, like she’s ready to collect her reward. “Fuck me, Malcolm.”
Never has just a lass’s voice woken my cock up so much as this one. Lips dying to touch hers, I lean in and taste her, sweeping my lips over hers. The sigh that comes out of her just from that is my undoing. Hands at the hemline of her shirt, I tilt my head and thrust my tongue into her mouth, as her back arches, pressing her chest into mine. Our lips and tongues glide over and over each other, making me want more, and as she claws her way down to my fly, I can see that she feels the same.
“I want you, Malcolm.” She pants between kisses. “Right now.”
It’s a flurry of forcing each other’s clothes off, as we kiss erotically, with hands all over the other’s body, until we’re finally skin to skin. Halfway from the kitchen to the bedroom, my fully hard cock is pressed between her folds. That’s when I lift the lass up and thrust into her, while carrying her to my bedroom. The look in her eyes is so wanton it hardens me further. As my cock pushes into her, she locks her ankles together at my waist, and lifts herself up, creating delicious friction.
“God, I’ve never wanted to fuck a lass as much as you, Steph.” I tell her, voice laced with need, as I close my bedroom door, leaving us in darkness.
Those words spur her on. She slides her fingers into my hair, bringing her face to mine, and she plunges her tongue into my mouth, as her back hits the mattress and our bodies crush together. The satisfied groan out of her tells me that I’m doing all the right things. My mouth can’t wait another second to taste her tits. And when my lips are on them, her back arches once again, like that was the answer to her unsaid request. They’re perfect, and her nipples are already beaded as the tip of my tongue teases her nipples and my lips suck them gently.
“God...Malcolm.” She breathes, desperate for her release. I suck harder and thrust faster, and she tightens instantly, coming at my mercy.
The bed squeaks happily under us as I fuck her mercilessly, bringing on a second orgasm almost instantly. This woman is more responsive to me than any other woman has been in the past. It’s like we’re meant to be together. Like we’ve been paired perfectly. Pelvis pushing into her, I lean up on my elbows, watching her breasts bob with our movement, and Steph wastes no time going in for the kill, wanting desperately to take me down with her. As her hands find my nipples, it’s like a bug to a bright light. I can’t slow down. I can’t put myself off track. So, instead, I find her clit with my thumb, and circle it, bringing her home a third time, this time with me.
As we climax together, both grunting and crying aloud in the silence, I realize how fucking good this feels. And I don’t just mean on a sexual level, either. This woman has been through hell and back as of late, and despite all the drama, she saw that she could help, and she did. It wasn’t a request. It was all her. Sure, she was somewhat motivated by her feelings for me, but no other woman has ever gone that distance for me. In fact, most women are more than ready to fuck me over given the chance, not the opposite.
Bodies still smoldering from lust, chests still heaving from exertion, I lay next to her, my eyes focused in the dark. “You are something else, lass.”
“Was I really that loud?” She chuckles playfully.
“No, not that.” I chortle. “You...going after Clare.”
She clears her throat. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to refer to her as ‘the bitch’. It does not have another name.”
“Fine by me.” I snuffle. “What made you go after her? Was it just your sense of an eye for an eye, or was it really because you know that she and I have fucked before?”
“This wasn’t a primal thing, Malcolm.” She corrects. “I don’t sit idly by and let people shit on other people. Especially when said people are those that I care about. Sure, I’d love to see the whore burn in hell for fucking you before me, but I’d never shell out the dough that I did just for that.”
I can’t help but smirk. She’s a pistol. And now she’s mine. My finger slides down her cheek. “Like I said. You’re something else.”
“Tell me you wouldn’t do the same.” She concedes. “I came over here, guns blazing, and you made me stay put, took care of me while I was sick, and kept me safe. Plus, you’ve made sure that someone’s been tailing me, and that’s even before we were sleeping together. The writing’s on the wall, Malcolm.”
“That and as much as we didn’t want to admit it, we care about each other.”
A flash comes into her eyes. “I suppose that’s one way of looking at it, yes.”
I rub my nose on hers. “Did you bring clothes this time, lass?”
Her eyes search mine. “I figured this time I wouldn’t need them.”