The British Bondage Collection (11 page)

As
if summoned, Aileen appeared behind them. “Ladies, it’s time to start the ghost
tour. We’ll be turning off the lights so do be careful.”

Samantha
came to her feet and put a hand to her head as it swam. Yep, too much red.
This
should be fun.

Aileen
handed them all torches before poking at the fire until the flames died to a
gentle glow. The lights went out suddenly and they all screamed as they were thrown
into darkness.

A
torch came on and they all followed suit as Aileen laughed. “We’ll start in the
library. It’s said that the late laird of Inverrock likes to reside there. He
likes to re-arrange all the books so watch out for flying books.”

Clutching
her torch to her chest, Samantha gulped and shuffled after Lucy, training her
torch on her back. As they sidled out of the dining room, her torch flickered
and gave up.

“Fuck.”
She stopped and hit it with her palm. It flickered briefly but refused to turn
back on. “Lucy?” she called but no one responded. Blinking, she peered through
the gloom but she couldn’t see a thing. Should she follow after them? She
glanced around and her gaze latched on to the dim glow of the fire. No, it
would be better for her to stay here and wait for them.

Fumbling
her way back to her chair, she grasped a bottle of wine and put it to her lips.
Well, at least she wouldn’t have to hunt for ghosts. There were worse ways to
spend an evening than nursing a bottle of merlot.

The
warmth of the wine trickled through her body and pooled in the pit of her
stomach. She let her legs fall open and giggled to herself as cool air brushed
at her bare sex, feeling silly and horny at the same time. Yep, she needed a
man.

“You
lost?”

Samantha
screamed and flung the bottle in the air, sending its contents sloshing across
her dress as it clattered on the table, by some miracle not smashing.

A
man stepped into the amber light of the fire and she gasped. Tall? Check. Dark?
Check. Handsome? Hell, yeah. And he wore a kilt. A
kilt
for Godsakes!

Attempting
to control her breathing, she slapped a hand across her chest and cast her gaze
over him, taking in the sight of his strong legs, up to his blue kilt, to his
black woollen jumper. Finally she studied his face. She couldn’t see the colour
of his eyes but his face was the sort of rugged handsome you’d expect in the
middle of the Highlands. Chiselled jawline, dotted with stubble and eyes that
crinkled with amusement. Samantha’s mouth dried as his lips split into a grin.

 “Sorry,
I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Coming
unsteadily to her feet, Samantha waved away his apology. “No, it’s okay. I’m
just a little jumpy…all the talk of ghosts and whatnot…”

He
nodded and curled his hand around her elbow as she wavered. His fingers were
warm and coarse and sent a surge of awareness straight to her pussy.

“I
didn’t think there were any other guests staying here this weekend,” she said
as she plucked at the neckline of her dress, now soaked in wine.

“I’m
not exactly a guest,” he said with a smile, his fingers remaining on her arm.

“Oh.”
Tugging her sodden dress away from her chest towards the light of the fire to
inspect the damage, she belatedly released that she’d given him a good look at
her cleavage. She snapped her hand to her side and flushed as he eyed her with
a knowing grin.

“You
could do with a change of clothes, I think.”

“Yes,
though I don’t trust myself to find my way back to my room…not after…” She
motioned to her discarded bottle. She was not drunk exactly, just very tipsy.
There was no way she’d make it up those stairs in the dark in one piece.

“Not
to worry, lass, I know this place like the back of my hand.”

Lass.
His
broad accent rolled over her, sending her knees weak and she nodded mutely as
the man released her elbow and wrapped his arm around her, clasping her hip in
his hand. Warmth pooled in between her legs as he urged her forwards with
confidence.

“Not
interested in hunting out ghosts then?” he asked as he helped her up the
stairs. The meagre night illumination filtered in through the windows but she
could still barely figure out where to step next. Her guide seemed perfectly
confident, however, and steered her easily up the stairs and into the east
wing.

“I
can’t say it’s my kind of thing, no.”

“What’s
your thing then?”

You.
She
shrugged as heat spread across her chest. “I don’t know. Peace and quiet, I
suppose. I don’t see being scared to death as entertainment.”

“Inverrock
is peaceful most of the time.”

“Yes,
I suppose it must be. You don’t think it’s haunted then?”

“Ah,
I didn’t say that.”

He
stopped outside her door and Samantha frowned. She didn’t remember telling him
her room number. God, she was more drunk than she realised.

“So
it is haunted?”

Though
it was dark, she could sense his gaze on her, his mouth probably twisted in
amusement.

“Maybe.”

“What’s
that meant to mean?”

“Inverrock
is centuries old. Its history spans all the way back to the 11th century. A
place like this holds memories. Whether they are ghosts or not, I can’t say.”

She
shoved her key clumsily into the lock and pushed open her door. She felt the
kilted man follow closely behind, the heat from his body quickly traversing the
space between them. She breathed deeply and frowned. She expected the smell of
cologne or perhaps soap but she couldn’t smell anything. Not even the scent of
male musk.

Facing
him again, she noted that the light coming in through her windows was brighter
here and she could see his features clearly. Jesus, he was sexy. So broad and
rugged. He towered over her small frame. Her gaze landed on his lips which
were, as she had suspected, tilted in amusement.

“Have
you
seen any ghosts?”

“In
a manner of speaking.”

“What
does that mean?”

He
chuckled but said nothing and Samantha shook her head. What an elusive man he
was. Picking her way carefully across the floor, she swore as she stumbled over
her trainers.

“Are
you okay, lass?”

“I’m
fine,” she snapped. Her shin smashed into the chair and she yelped, clutching
at her leg. She hopped around for a moment and stumbled, falling with a cry to
the floor.

There
was a rasp and a crackle as the man lit a match and set it to the candles on
the mantelpiece. He looked over her with a raised brow.

“Who
carries matches around in this day and age?” she muttered to herself as she
pulled herself to sitting and inspected her shin.

“I
do, especially in an old place like this.” He knelt down in front of her and
brushed his fingers over her leg.

She
gasped but couldn’t bring herself to withdraw her leg from his touch. Her skin
tingled with awareness.

“No
permanent damage,” he concluded, meeting her gaze from under his brow. “Though
you’ll probably have a bruise in the morning.”

Samantha
stared at him as his fingers lingered on her calf, stroking absently. An odd
pressure pushed against her back, like icy cold fingers, and with a slight cry,
she flung herself forwards. She looped her arms around the man’s neck and he
gave a startled grunt before wrapping his arms around her waist.

He
gazed down at her and she realised now his eyes were green. Deep, dark green
and they sucked her in. “S-sorry,” she flustered but before she could pull back
from him, he swooped down and captured her lips.

A
vague part of her wondered if she should pull away -
I don’t even know his
name
- but his tongue invaded her mouth and all thoughts of escape left her
and she moaned against him. God, this man knew how to kiss!

His
lips were oddly cool but her body surged with heat as his tongue clashed with
hers and she snaked her hand up through his hair, tugging at the silky strands.
He growled and pressed the kiss deeper, increasing the ache between her thighs
as his hands kneaded her back. The man hauled her onto his lap and she
stiffened and made a sound of surprise as the evidence of his desire prodded
her bottom.

Releasing
her mouth, he looked at her with regret. "Sorry."

Samantha
shook her head rapidly. "Don't be...I..." She sucked in a breath as
she noted the hungry look in his eyes. He wanted her just as much as she wanted
him. This gorgeous, sexy Scot wanted her. She allowed a smile to thread its way
across her face. "I'm not."

Studying
her for a moment, he tangled a hand into her hair and swept it back from her
face. "Good," he said before claiming her lips once more.

Samantha
relaxed into him and let the desire sweep through her body once more. Her skin
prickled, her body throbbed. Never had any man had such an effect on her. Not
even Marcello. Why not shag him? If the pulse of his cock was anything to go by
then this was where it was heading. A hand curled around her neck, his callused
tips sending a shudder down her spine and she sighed, gripping him tighter.
Yes, why not indeed.

Curious
fingers snaked under the neckline of her wet dress and she arched up into his
touch. He groaned at the feel of her soft flesh before pressing down across her
stiff nipple. He plucked and pulled roughly at it until she whimpered. With a
sudden movement, he thrust her dress around her shoulders, taking the straps of
her bra along with it and his mouth was suddenly on her breast.

The
moist heat of his mouth made her cry out as he pressed her back against his
arm, cradling her as his teeth went from one breast to the other.

"God,
you taste good," he murmured against her skin. "You are so bloody
gorgeous, lass."

Her
heart twinged in appreciation and she threw back her head and gave herself up
to his mouth, digging her nails into his scalp in a bid to keep him in place.
His mouth left her skin and she shuddered as the air chilled around her. The
man drew her back up to sitting and palmed her flesh as he kissed down her
neck.

"I
want to fuck you," he told her as he unhooked her bra.

Samantha
nodded mutely, her eyes wide as his coarse words sent a flutter to her dripping
cunt.

He
didn’t say anything, just stared down at her, tracing every inch of her with
his gaze. Her nipples hardened so much that they ached. She stared back as she
waited. Waited for him to make a move. Waited for that hard cock to be
unleashed. Her heart pounded in her ears.

A
hand clasped over her breast again and she sighed in relief as he plucked at
her nipple before giving it a sharp tug. She released a small cry of surprise
as her pussy flooded and she flopped against his shoulder, his strong arm
around her back.

Cradling
her as if she were a delicate treasure, Samantha enjoyed the moment, as the
feeling of being protected mingled with the apprehension of what he could do to
her with his muscular body and rigid shaft.

“I
want to fuck you,” he murmured into her ear as he dipped his head to nip at her
lobe, “really, really hard.” His hand slipped from her breast and pushed
underneath the fabric of her dress. She heard the little moan of appreciation
as his hand encountered her slick, bare pussy but barely had time to register
it before his fingers pressed sharply into her sheath.

Galvanised
by the intrusion of his powerful fingers, she arched back into his arm and he
used the opportunity to bite down on her neck, securing her flesh between his
teeth as if claiming her. She shuddered and gasped.

God,
she’d never had such a strong reaction to a man. She gripped at his arms,
relishing the feel of his undulating muscles as he finger-fucked her roughly,
his thumb occasionally rasping across her clit. His take-control manner plucked
at the submissive, feminine part of her. The part that wanted to be needed and
desired by a dominant, commanding man. The part that no other man had reached
for many, many years.

His
fingers left her abruptly and he threaded a hand roughly into her hair, jerking
her head away from him.  “Stand up,” he commanded hoarsely.

Instinctively
obeying, Samantha pushed herself to her feet, her legs wavering underneath her.
She didn’t need to worry though. The Scotsman was standing in an instant,
flattening his hard body against hers as he forced her dress off her, leaving
it to slip to the floor. His hands cupped possessively at her hips, coaxing
them back into him so she could feel his throbbing cock rubbing against her
arse.

“Jesus,
you are so hot.”

Samantha
simply sighed as he worked himself against her, mimicking a fucking motion. Her
pussy clenched with every thrust of his kilt-cladded dick until moisture
trickled down her leg. Shit, she would kill to have him buried inside her needy
cunt right now.

He
squeezed briefly at her arse cheeks, and she whimpered as it felt like his
fingers had left imprints in them, before spinning her round and bringing his
mouth down on hers. Swallowing her moan, he swept his tongue over hers before
drawing back and nibbling at her lip. His fingers worked over her back and arse,
kneading and stroking her skin. Samantha tried to do the same but his shoulders
were so broad and his kisses so consuming that she barely managed to cling onto
him. Just when she thought she might press her fingers underneath his jumper,
he hauled her into his arms, grasping her buttocks so that she had to wrap her
legs around him. Her heels slipped off and clunked to the ground, the sound
echoing through the room.