Chapter 35 Blythe
BLYTHE
Holy shit, I’m actually doing it. I haven’t heard the door shut, but my blood is pounding so hard in my ears I’m incapable of hearing anything else.
I trip the minute I look over my shoulder but manage to catch myself before I fall.
If Sam catches on to what I’m doing, I don’t want to make it that easy for him.
Besides, if the goal is having him catch me, having him simply find me sprawled on the ground defeats the purpose of running in the first place.
I hear the slam of a door, and my heart jumps into my throat. Adrenaline kicks in, and I find another gear, my feet falling heavy in the thick grass as I do my best to avoid tripping.
It’s not long before heavier footfalls replace the sound of my own as Sam rapidly closes the distance between us, and panic slams into me despite the fact that I want this, and if I were to stop running now and turn to him with my hands raised in surrender, he would stop his pursuit, and we’d walk back to the cottage hand in hand.
He’d undress me slowly, kissing my body as he exposed my skin, and then guide me to the bed before making me feel incredible.
I don’t want that right now though. I want desperation and mess. I want whatever is going to happen when he reaches me. I want him to—
His hand closes around my wrist, and my forward motion is brought to a halt. I release a surprised yelp as he drags me against him.
I’m breathless, and yet when his lips meet mine, it doesn’t seem to matter.
Who needs to breathe when you can kiss a man in a kilt in the middle of the Highlands?
And it’s not our usual kiss—it’s not slow or sensual.
It’s all teeth and tongue and hot breaths.
It’s aggressive and demanding. I bite his lip, and his body relaxes with a hiss, his grip on my wrist loosening just enough that I’m able to push off him and take off again.
Something like a growl mixed with a deep laugh reaches my ears, and then I hear his footsteps again, closing in on me far faster than before.
A thrill runs through me at the thought of what he will do this time.
I dare say he won’t leave me in a position where I can so easily run again.
I felt him under the kilt, and I imagine that running in that state isn’t the most comfortable.
I’m stopped mid-stride as his arm wraps around my waist this time, and then I’m falling. I expect to hit the ground hard, but he’s there to cushion the fall before rolling us so he’s on top, my wrists trapped beneath his hands, pressing into the cool ground.
“No more running, Rosie,” he warns, his warm brown eyes darker than ever before. “You wanted to be caught, and now I want my reward for catching you.”
He’s barely out of breath while I desperately suck in air beneath him. He subdues me easily, locking my wrists above my head with his right hand, while his left hand trails down my body.
My thought was that I’d pretend to struggle in this kind of scenario. Really make it a challenge for him. But I’m learning very quickly that I’ve got no fight in me. I ran, he caught me, and now I just want him to make me feel good.
The cool summer night air brushes against my skin as Sam pulls my dress up. The contrast of it with the heat of his hand sends delicious tingles straight to my core.
His smile is almost wicked when he feels that I’m not wearing underwear. It fades as his fingers drag over my clit. He breathes out slowly when they reach their destination. Practically whines as he slides one and then two inside of me.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he growls, stroking that spot inside of me that makes my hips jump. “And tight.” Another stroke. “And hot.” He pulls his fingers away, bringing them to his mouth and moaning around them as he sucks my arousal into his mouth. “Best thing I’ve tasted all night.”
His words draw an honest-to-God whimper from me. I want him to keep tasting, keep touching. I need him to.
Sam’s dark eyes bore into me, and I can see him fighting to ask for permission to take this fantasy of mine further, and I’m realizing my mistake. I didn’t lay a thing out for him before I took off. I’m going to have to slip back into the real world if I want this to go where I want it to.
His grip on my wrists breaks the second I twitch them.
“Sam,” I whisper, cradling his face between my hands.
“You caught me.” Reaching into my dress, I’m relieved to discover the little foil packet is still where I left it.
“I’ll say stop if I want you to stop,” I assure him as I slowly withdraw my hand.
His eyes flick to the condom, and his jaw works against my palm.
Little bubbles of disappointment rise like bile in my throat at the anticipation of rejection while my libido drops. But then he fixes his eyes on me and I stop breathing.
“Get on your knees, Blythe,” he growls, catching me completely off guard by not only playing along but also by using my name.
The bubbles disappear, and a full-body shiver replaces the sensation as I do what I’m told.
I’ve barely got myself in place when Sam’s fingers toy with the top of my zipper, lips, tongue, and teeth following its path as he drags it down. It’s the last tender moment before he seems to buy into the primal aspect.
I’m jerked back against the solid wall of his body.
Every inch hard and straining against me while he pushes my dress down, exposing me to the chill of the light summer breeze.
Teeth graze my neck, the scruff of his beard burning my bare skin while he takes me in each hand, squeezing and pinching while his erection presses against my lower back.
He’s rough. Demanding. Greedy. I’m loose. Needy. Aroused.
One hand drops, bunching the skirt of my dress, his forearm holding it against my abdomen as his fingers dance lower, circling my clit and then sinking into me.
There’s no one for miles, and the likelihood of being caught is nearly zero, but the thought that someone could happen upon us has my head tipping back against Sam’s shoulder, a desperate little moan spilling out of me, sounding louder in the vast emptiness of the glen.
“Oh, baby, don’t try to be quiet.”
He pulls the hand between my legs away, and I nearly sob as he brings it to my neck.
He drags his fingers along the side of my throat before he flattens his tongue against the wet skin and licks.
The sound he makes comes from somewhere deep within him.
A sound that ignites some long-buried prey instinct inside of me.
I don’t make any attempt to escape, though.
I quiet the urge by focusing on the way his tongue feels and the sensations of pleasure that shoot straight to my core when he pinches a nipple.
A breathy “fuck” leaves me, and I don’t even care that it’s quiet. I don’t care about anything right now aside from how Sam’s touching me.
“If I let you go, are you going to be a good girl and stay put?” he murmurs against my ear, sending a new wave of shivers through my body.
“Yes,” I sob. As much as part of me wants to get up and play this game again, I’m not sure my body would let me. I'm happy right here.
He doesn’t release me right away. He takes his time manoeuvring me until my back rests on the ground, then he dips and kisses up my body, has me chasing his lips when he pulls away.
I’m still panting, still trying to catch my breath as he lifts his kilt.
Ideally, this fantasy would be played out without having to pause for safe sex purposes, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of me while he covers up, and his stare is so intense that I barely notice the break in action.
I can still feel his hands on me, his tongue sliding up my neck.
Sparks of pleasure spread across my body as he tips forward, his hands landing on either side of my chest. His big body looming over me, caging me.
He dips lower, his lips an inch away from mine. “Such a good girl,” he praises, rewarding my behaviour by slowly pushing into me. “God damn, Rosie.” His forehead drops to mine, holding himself still.
I want to tell him to get to it, to make sure I feel him even after this is over. But when his lips brush against mine, all I care about is this connection.
I wrap my arms around him, pulling him down into me, needing to be closer as he sets an agonizingly slow rhythm.
Sam holds my hand as we walk back to the cottage. I’m going to need a shower because my entire back is covered in dirt and bits of grass.
“I’m sorry I kind of lost the plot there,” Sam says, chuckling while rubbing the back of his neck.
“It’s not your fault. Apparently I have a hypnotizing pussy. A hypnopussy.” The words barely make it out of my mouth before I’m doubled over in hysterics.
Sam pulls me to him, holding me upright while I continue to giggle uncontrollably.
“Did you just call your pussy hypnotizing?”
I lose it again, nodding against his chest. “I’d ask you to forget I said that, but I doubt that’s possible.”
“No, definitely not,” he confirms, brushing hair off my face while he smiles down at me. My laughter slows and fades as I watch him watching me, looking content and relaxed, until we’re standing there in silence like we’re the only two people in the world.