Kilting Me Softly: 1 (3 page)

Enthralled with her methodical upward strokes, he returned his attention to her. Sliding his hand between her thighs, he reveled in her beckoning heat. His heart slammed into overdrive when he found her pussy naked in his hand. She was every bit as unfettered as he was. He sampled her nectar and sighed into their kiss. She was wet and ripe, eager for the taking.

The feel of her body’s receptivity made his heart thud wildly. Nudging her pelvis against his hand, she coated his fingertips with a liquid passion that threatened to snap him in half. Jesus, how long had she been primed and ready for him?

Their moans of pleasure were all the encouragement needed. If they didn’t leave now, he was going to fuck her right there. Conall McCade pulled his arm from around her, shifted the idling truck into reverse and floored it.

Fuck the moon. Fuck the curse. He was going to get laid.

Neither of them spoke during the moonlit drive. It was a windy night and despite the weighty burden that perched like a buzzard on Morgan’s conscience she couldn’t help but enjoy the brisk night air after drinking so much. Normally she would have cause for worry, letting a perfect stranger drive her into the remote countryside. But the man behind the wheel was not exactly a stranger. Having glimpsed her sister’s crime scene photos, she’d seen enough to know what to expect. The way she figured, that was more information than most women had about any man. Her cynical view was that all men were capable of extreme violence, but some were less skillful at hiding it. Thinking the way she did, the razor-sharp weapon in her pocket was a real comfort.

In truth she would rather have a gun. But with airport security being what it was, shooting him was not an option. That left her with few choices, considerably more dangerous ones, choices that required she get closer than she wished. So upon setting foot in the United Kingdom, she visited a gift shop specializing in medieval trinkets and found a suitable dagger. The clerk hadn’t suspected anything of her motives except a love for history.

Throughout her months of travel following Ciaran McCade’s trail, she practiced with it until the sharpened blade became a part of her. But Morgan realized that despite her weapon, her skill in wielding it or the benefit of knowing the physical composition of her adversary, she could not forget the simple fact that she was small and female. Nor could she forget her enemy was male. The differences in size and strength put her at a disadvantage. Hopefully she had enough feminine wiles to put him in a state of defenselessness. While he was looking her body over, she would be wreaking havoc on his.

She didn’t let the fact that he wasn’t exactly human escape her mind either. When the time came, she would have to tamp down on her surprise, her fear, her shock. He would be counting on it to overtake her. She simply had to keep her wits about her, do what she had to do, without Ciaran scratching or biting her in the process.

Ciaran. Conall. Whatever he claimed his name was. If this man knew half of what lurked in the corners of her mind
he
would be the fearful one. In mere moments she would deliver a fatal blow to his heart or where one should have been and leave him to bleed to death as he had her sister.

“Dead deer.”

Deep in thought, Morgan snapped to attention and craned her neck to see over the hood of the jeep. What she saw made her cringe. A large, four-legged animal lay in the middle of the road, probably slain by a passing motorist as it ventured out from the woods to cross the road. Like a movie in fast forward, full-color crime scene photos of Megan’s mangled body flooded her consciousness much as they had when they’d accidentally spilled to the floor while she was speaking with detectives. Stunned, she watched Conall’s arm extend in front of her like a safety bar as he steered the car off the road, down a slight embankment and back on again.

They rounded a hill and turned down a lonely dirt road that led to a small cottage surrounded by gently sloping mountains and open sky. The moon was low, heavy and inescapable like a giant white eye watching every move they made. It saddened her to think that at any other time, this would have been the most beautiful place she’d ever been. But now it would be the scene of a crime. No, not a crime. The scene of a wrong made right.

Wanting to make the most of what remained of the night, she bailed from the car as soon as it came to a stop on the gravel drive. In a dash to the front door, she listened to him get out and follow her, his steps clipping her heels. With a flick of his wrist, the door swung open and they tumbled inside.

In the darkened foyer, he caught her by the hips and pressed his pelvis flush against her ass, reaffirming his desire had intensified on the drive. She answered him with equal fervor and spun around to face him. Mirroring his passionate touch, she cupped his toned buttocks in her hands, pulling him into her aching heat. At the mercy of her desire, she nipped at his bottom lip as he undulated against her, their kisses a mix of tongue, teeth and sighs.

Sprawled beneath him at the bottom of the stairs, she let him lift her sweater and kiss along her rib cage and sternum. Over the satin surface of her bra, he drew her nipple to a fiery hot point, conjuring a hungry cry from the back of her throat. Emboldened, she pushed him off and held him in place with her black patent leather high heel. Taking a moment, she basked in the look of crazed sexual famine that dominated his handsome face. Triumphant, she nudged him away and crawled backward up the stairs.

At the top of the landing, she tore off her sweater and threw it at him, making sure to remain facing him. There were two good reasons for that. To taunt him into following her and to hide the dagger at the small of her back. She’d hid it there while he fastened the lock on the door, her coat discarded on the floor. It was just one of a hundred details Morgan considered when planning how she would kill Ciaran McCade.

Like a fish on a lure, he followed and directed her to the right room. Acting on the momentum of her fear and excitement, she went to him, delivering a kiss heavy with want as she pushed his jacket from his broad shoulders. She need not understand this strange mix of emotions to act. Now was the time for primal instinct to take the lead. Analysis could come later, under the bright light of day. Once she was on a plane miles from here. Now it was do or die.

Or do
and
die, rather.

Like unwrapping a piece of candy, she removed her camisole and cast it aside, letting him peruse her half-naked body. Morgan took a moment to commit his expression to memory. After tonight, if no man ever looked at her the way this man looked at her right now, it would be enough. Savoring the power of his kisses along her neck, she shivered against him as his hands slid past the tops of her stockings to stroke the sensitive flesh above. Tongues entwined, she unbuckled his belt and pulled it free of his waist. At this point, she might have enjoyed reaching up underneath his kilt to toy with him but she was working to suppress her desire as it was. Swept up in the moment, she undressed him quickly, peeling off his kilt and letting it pool at his ankles.

In a heated rush, they moved to the queen-size bed, unmade and cool with absence. She kissed his chest, smooth and muscled, taking the time to lick hungry circles around his nipples. His body was like something out of her teenage fantasies, sculpted and shaped to perfection, his masculine scent seducing her to full-blown intoxication. She kneeled and positioned herself in front of him.

Conall’s body reclined in submission as she eased down the length of him, his rigid member springing forth and beckoning her like a huge road sign promising the way to nirvana.

He didn’t have to know she had never had sex with a man before. Oral sex, sure, but not full-out intercourse. And she wasn’t about to tell him either. She took hold of his cock and gazed up at him. Assured she had his full attention, she took the silken bulb past her slack lips. Lashing his shaft with enthusiastic flicks of her tongue, she drew from him deep moans of pleasure.

Once he was completely wet and slick with her saliva, she went crazy on him, taking him deep into her mouth, working his length with one hand and rolling his balls gently in the other. As he let his head fall back, she sighed with delight. He tasted wonderful.

Through no fault of her own, she was lost in her claiming of him. As if under the influence of a spell, the feel of his textured flesh in her mouth, the carnal act of consuming him was heady and surreal. She’d dreamed about men, fantasized about what sex would be like, how she would behave, but this was real and it was far more exhilarating than anything she ever imagined.

The clock on the mantel called her back. Reality regained dominion. Morgan stopped abruptly and pushed him down on the bed. Locking eyes with him, she climbed on top of him. She took his hands, kissed them, brushed his fingers against her lips and set them high above his head. Pulling her sash from around her waist, she used it to secure his wrists to the headboard.

Luckily, he did not fight her but chuckled in a low bedroom voice that made fire pool between her legs. “Kinky girl.”

At last his thoroughly male body was at her disposal. His chest, created by a master sculptor’s hand, lay bare and exposed to her, his muscled arms stretched to their limits and flexed, the divide of his abdominals into six distinct chambers and the fullness of his generous cock made her mouth water. She didn’t care if it was wrong; she desperately wanted him inside her. Wanted to consume him the way he’d consumed her, every waking thought. Her dreams.

Her life.

More than anything, she wanted him to banish the ache deep within her and make it go away.

But first things first. At long last, she had come to the moment of her big reveal. With her pelvis nestled against his erection, she removed the brunette wig and shook her long, red-blonde hair free of its artificial confines. It felt good to take it off, for the air to cool her scalp.

The male’s hooded brow furrowed in an instant. “Wha’ the hell?”

Morgan squinted back at him with ferocious malice. “What’s the matter, don’t you recognize me?”

“God in heaven.”

“Not quite.”

Conall shook his head in disbelief. “You’re dead.”

She imagined what he must have been thinking and smiled. What had he done to invite a fire-headed succubus into his house, into his bed? In the event he’d forgotten, she was going to refresh his memory. He’d stalked, raped and silenced her twin sister. “Oh I’m very much alive, I assure you. And so are you—but not for long.”

Then he saw the dagger and his eyes went wide with alarm. “Are you insane?”

Finally…finally, Megan.

Conall tugged against his restraints. “Shit a brick!”

Maintaining her balance as if riding an angry bull, she moved in sync with his struggle. “Any last requests?”

A hoarse sigh of exasperation was his first response. She watched his eyes search the room for aid he knew would not come. Screaming was pointless. Fighting was impossible. Fascinated by the myriad emotions playing out on his face, she watched him thinking, praying and at last yielding.

Draped in a sheen of sweat that made her skin shimmer like muted bronze, she watched his gaze settle on her, the lethal stranger he’d invited to his bed. His breathing steadied, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest the only discernible movement in the room.

“Fuck me…”

Morgan, entranced by the vision at arm’s length, couldn’t answer right away. Ciaran, Conall, it made no difference. Whoever he was, the man was about to die and he was asking for sex. “Now who’s insane?”

“No more insane than you. A perfect match, I’d say,” he remarked in the Scottish brogue that, like it or not, thrilled her from head to toe.

It was crazy. So why was she entertaining it? The idea of hurting him with the knife appealed to her more than anything. The idea of hurting him with sex appealed to her more than she wanted to admit. Hurting him in
any way whatsoever
was her ultimate goal.

“Admit it. You feel it too.” He thrust his hips and looked at her with his magnetic emerald eyes. “From the moment you walked up to me.”

No
…

“You felt it.”

In an act of mutiny, arousal flooded her pussy at his declaration. And he knew it, because his struggle ceased and his voice lowered to an unsettling calm. “No one need ever know.”

Damn straight. She was going to make fucking sure of that.

Without further hesitation, she pressed her pelvis against him, grinding herself on the rigid shaft that united them in carnal lust. “No. They don’t.”

Morgan slipped the blade between her breasts and turned it, the black lace cups of her bra cleaved in two. Keeping her eyes on him, she slipped out of the now-useless garment and threw it aside, her soft pastel nipples hardening to pink topaz. She cinched the sides of her skirt high enough to reveal she wore nothing beneath it, allowing him a view of her naked pussy, the small v-shaped tuft of blonde hair that directed his gaze farther downward to her clit and swollen labia.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered breathlessly.

“Shut up.” Fueled by adrenaline, she moved between his muscular legs, grating her fingernails down them as she went, taking delight in the sound that escaped from the wall of his clenched teeth.

“Oh fuck…” He struggled to see her lips and tongue revisit his cock for seconds.

Inch by inch, she took him in, wetting his girth with the moisture of her hot mouth. God help her, he was scrumptious. Her head bobbed rhythmically up and down on him, her eyes occasionally drifting to his, making sure he watched her pleasure him. But he wasn’t alone in his rapture. Between her legs, a river of desire flowed.

Helpless, he twisted and writhed to no avail. His fight captivated her, his beautiful male form flexing and stressing under a suit of muscle and sinew, coated with sweat and determination. “Morgan…”

She stopped long enough to scan the area around them and pretended not to hear his cries, shrugging it off in a mocking display.

“
Please
, Morgan.”

Shameless, she looked at him but continued to manipulate him with her mouth and hands, teasing the slit on the head of his cock with her tongue. “Did you hear something?”