The British Bondage Collection (12 page)

With
a growl, he drove her back against the wall, her spine meeting heavily with the
textured wallpaper. Christ, she hadn’t had sex like this since Marcello. This
Scotsman sure had the dominant thing going on. Samantha squealed as he explored
her mouth further and she dug her nails into his neck. Just as she eased into
his kiss, he surprised her by hefting her higher, shifting her legs over his
arms and then up and over his shoulders.

Crying
out at his sudden show of strength, Samantha found herself pinned halfway up
the wall, with his head buried in her soaking pussy. His hands held her steady
and her nervousness quickly dissipated at being so high up as his tongue lapped
at her, stroking boldly across her folds with the flat of his tongue.

He
licked forcefully over every part of her sex before settling over her nub,
drawing it briefly into his mouth before massaging his tongue over it in small
circles. Samantha bucked against him as her legs clamped around his head.

"Fuck,"
she cried out as he sucked at her clit.

No
one had ever paid such attention to her pussy before. Her sheath clenched and
pulsed against his tongue as he probed it. She could feel the tension building,
the unbearable need for release making her sex swell as he continued his
torturous routine. Sweeping, licking, sucking. It was almost too much to bear.

And
then he drew her bud into his mouth again and tugged on it rhythmically with
his teeth until the pleasure crescendoed, ricocheting through her body and she
quaked against him. He held her firm, keeping his mouth buried between her
thighs as he licked away her juices.

When
the spasms slowed, he withdrew carefully and dropped her to the floor with
ease, sliding her body down his. She bit back a moan as the length of his shaft
touched all too briefly to her tender folds.

"You
taste so damned good," he told her before kissing her.

She
inhaled the musky scent and tasted herself on his tongue. It was so decadent,
so sinful and her sex pulsed back into life as the need to taste
his
sex
overtook her.

Blinking
away the satisfied haze that her climax drowned her in, she tugged at the waist
of his kilt before bunching the fabric in her hands. She waited a moment, as if
waiting for permission and he nodded. With a smile, she dropped to her knees
and hauled his kilt up and over his straining erection.

"Oh
God," she breathed as she came face to face with his pulsing, shining
cock.

A
small drop of pre-cum hung from the end and she darted eagerly forwards to lick
it up, savouring its salty taste on her tongue.

"Uhmmmm,"
she moaned as she wrapped a hand around his shaft, feeling it surge under her
fingers, and drew it into her mouth.

Circling
the smooth head with her tongue, she explored his ridges, pressing against the
sensitive underside of his dick and drawing back. His hands in her hair urged
her forwards once more and she took him as far back as she could.

“That’s
it, take it deep, lass.”

The
man grunted with surprise as she swallowed and drew him further down her
throat, taking most of his length. Samantha grabbed his hard buttocks and held
him there for a moment before working up and down his cock as he
enthusiastically screwed her mouth. His distinctive male tang on her tongue
sent a curl of need straight to her still twitching pussy.

His
buttocks flexed beneath his kilt as he rocked back and forth and emitted small
groans and harsh breaths. Samantha stared up at him as he towered over her. In
spite of the spit dribbling down her chin, she would happily have him fucking
her mouth all day. God, he was so bloody gorgeous, especially with his jaw
clenched tight in pleasure. The pleasure that
she
was giving him.

Feeling
the sudden surge of his cock, Samantha picked up the pace. His legs vibrated
with unspent power as his fingers pressed into her scalp, holding her in place
until his cock exploded, sending streams of hot cum straight down her throat.
She gulped and shuddered as he milked himself against her throat.

“Mmm,
swallow it,” he ordered huskily.

He
went to pull out but she gripped his arse and held him in place as she licked
and sucked his semi-hard shaft clean.

His
fingers curled around her and he hauled her to her feet. She wanted to protest—
I
could lick his cock forever—
but his muscular arms came around her and he
held her tight as he swept her hair back from her face, pressing an urgent kiss
to her mouth. She used the opportunity to force her hands underneath his jumper
and shirt.

“Oh…”
she sighed as her hands met with sleek, warm flesh.

The
man laughed and pulled off his jumper and shirt. His hand went to his kilt but
she touched his arm and shook her head. “Keep it on.” He raised an eyebrow as
he grinned at her. “Please?” she begged.

He
shrugged and kicked off his boots, yanking off his socks with them. Samantha
expelled a heavy breath as she studied him, completely forgetting her own
nudity. His chest flexed with every breath and he reminded her of a warrior.
Somehow, without the bulk of his jumper, he appeared even more daunting.

“Are
you done, lass?”

Samantha
giggled and nodded before flattening herself against him. His breath hissed
between his teeth as their skin connected and her skin prickled at the contact,
her nipples pressed hard against him.

The
Scotsman rubbed his large hands over her, sweeping over her buttocks as he
kissed at her neck. Abruptly, he turned her around and urged her towards the
bed.

“Kneel
down,” he commanded as her knees hit the edge of the bed.

Her
heart kicked up as she got down onto her knees, his hand pushing lightly on the
back of her neck. The light pressure of his hand pressed her over the bed so
that her bottom jutted out and she rested her head against the thick satin
throw as a shiver on anticipation threaded through her.

He
knelt down beside her and smoothed his hand over her arse, dipping briefly
between her legs and making her jolt towards his fingers.

“You
seem like the kind of girl who would enjoy a spanking,” he mused.

A
strangled noise left her throat.
Oh God, yes.
How did he know? Was it
the way her bottom bucked into his hand that gave it away?

“Do
you like a spanking, lass?”

“Yes,”
she whimpered as his hand continued to stroke agonisingly slowly across each
arse cheek, “Yes, yes, yes…” she continued to whisper.

His
palm came down so suddenly that she’d barely had time to realise he’d stopped
caressing her. She yelped as the sharp slap resonated in her ears and her
bottom smarted. The scent of her arousal suffused the air as he smacked again
and again, shifting his attention from one buttock to the other. Her skin stung
and she snivelled as the blows became heavier, the man seemingly intent on
spanking every inch of her trembling arse, but she’d never felt so alive.

She
squealed as he gave her four more sharp smacks. Two to each cheek, harder and
stronger than the previous ones. Then his lips came down and tickled across
each heated buttock before trailing up her spine and sweeping aside her hair
and kissing the back of her neck. His kilt chafed against her arse as his
erection prodded into her and his hands came underneath her to cup at her
breasts, drawing her upright and against him.

He
kissed his way across her shoulders, nipping lightly at her skin as he plucked
at her nipples. She rubbed herself against his cock as the ache in her cunt
became unbearable.

“Please,”
she murmured.

“Please
what?”

“I
need your cock…in me…” she grated out as his sharp tugs on her nipples stole
the breath from her.

He
chuckled and hefted her into his arms, hooking one under her legs. He lifted
her easily and climbed onto the bed. The mattress sank beneath him as he lay
back and positioned her over him. She sucked in a breath as she took in all
that muscle laid out just for her.

“Ride
me,” he said.

Hell,
yes
.
Samantha grinned, aware that she probably looked like the Cheshire cat when she
did so. She flipped up his kilt and gave his erection a quick rub, feeling it
harden further beneath her fingertips. She shifted forwards, settling her
drenched folds over him, teasing them both as his velvety head slipped across
them.

His
large hand came suddenly around her neck as the other one gripped at her hip
and he shoved her downwards, impaling her viciously on his thick length.

“Fuck,”
she cried out at the sudden intrusion as he urged her up with the hand on her
neck before directing her down onto him again.

The
hand around her neck remained firm, not squeezing but simply controlling her.
The heat of his fingers wrapped around her made her feel oddly protected, the
knowledge of all that contained strength tugging at that hidden womanly part of
her once more. Here she was completely at his mercy, giving over every ounce of
her trust and he knew exactly how far to push that trust. How to give her
everything she needed.

Pressing
his hips into her, he grunted as her sheath clenched around him. With the
positioning of his hands, Samantha barely had to do anything. He controlled her
movements, allowing him to pound upwards into her until she vibrated with need
and their skin sheened. The hand on her hip closed suddenly over her sex and he
pressed his thumb into her clit. He held it there as their violent rocking
motion made her nub run furiously over his callused digit.

Her
body tightened as the sensation in her pussy verged on the edge of unbearable
and his hand on her neck became more determined, plunging her down onto him
with increasing force.

“Oh,
oh, oh,” she squealed.

“Say
my name,” he groaned. “Finn. Say it,” he commanded.

“Oh,
Finn…” she cried out as the tension claimed her, her pussy pulsing as her
orgasm surged through her clit and inside of her, spiralling through her body.

“Sam…”
he muttered against her hair as she collapsed forwards and he thrust up into
her, his salty spray surging into her pulsing cunt.

His
harsh breaths blew into her hair as they both sagged and Samantha felt the
lethargy of satisfaction seep into her body. With her cheek pressed against his
solid chest and his cock still in her, she was sure she could stay here
forever.

“Finn,”
she murmured experimentally to herself. What a man! God, she’d never come so
hard before.  She thought of her friends off hunting ghosts and grinned.
Yeah, she definitely got the better end of the deal.

Finn
eased her off him and settled her into his arms, kissing her as she curled into
his embrace.

“I’m
glad you found me,” she whispered as her lids drifted shut. “I’m glad I didn’t
have to spend the night with the ghosts.”

Finn
chuckled softly. “I’m glad I found you too, lass. You are something special.”

“Can
we do some more?” she asked quietly as she smothered a yawn.

“You
can count on it.”

***

Stretching,
Samantha blinked and frowned as she took in her surroundings. Oh yes, the
castle. The room was still dark, the heavy curtains blocking out most of the
light but the digital clock on the bedside said it was 8 am. Bloody hell, she’d
slept the whole night!

She
sat up suddenly and stared at the empty pillow beside her.

Finn.

Tilting
her head, she trailed her fingers over the pillow. It was cold. Where had he
gone? He’d promised her more. She hadn’t expected to fall asleep for so long,
not with her insomnia, but she thought he’d still be here in the morning.

The
pillow wasn’t even indented. Had she just dreamt him up? Shaking her head, she
forced her stiff body out of bed, ignoring the sinking in her stomach. Maybe he
just wanted one night and didn’t want to have to deal with the morning after.
He hadn’t seemed the type, but what did she really know about him? Maybe he
spent every weekend seducing lost guests.

Who
was he anyway? Staff? He’d never said and she’d been too lost in desire to ask.
She paused in from of the full-length mirror and turned around to study her
arse. She frowned. After the spanking he’d given her, she expected at least a
little bit of redness. Maybe she really had dreamt him up.

No,
it wasn’t possible. She wasn’t
that
drunk.

Pulling
on her jeans, she picked up her bra that had been flung to one side and glanced
around the room. Her discarded clothes were the only sign that anything had
happened, and she knew that she could have been the one to fling them off.

Grabbing
a clean jumper from her suitcase, she yanked it over her head, brushed her
teeth at the sink in the corner and ran a brush through her hair. She was about
to leave, desperate to see if she could track down the elusive Finn but stopped
and put on a dash of lipstick and mascara, just in case she did run into him. She
didn’t want him regretting what he’d done with her.