I grabbed my rucksack from behind the bar where I’d left it before the ceremony and left the pub, choosing to wait around the corner for Lacey to make her own exit. It was ridiculous. Why were two people in their thirties sneaking around like teenagers?
Ten minutes later, Lacey hurried over to me. “Oh my God, I thought I’d never get away. I need you so badly. Let’s get back to the hotel so I can suck your cock.”
I swivelled around and clasped her cheeks in my hand. Pushing her up against the wall, I lowered my head and covered her lips with mine.
“There are plenty of deserted alleyways in the centre of town. We don’t have to wait until we get back to the hotel, baby.” I ground my hips against hers so she could feel the hard ridge of my cock against her belly.
“Tempting, but you’ll end up on the sex offenders register if we get caught and you’ll not be able to teach if you do.”
I groaned. “Good point. It’s a nice fantasy, though.”
She pushed her hand between us and wrapped it around my erection through the wool of my kilt. “For what it’s worth, I would love to do exactly that. Maybe I could jerk you off and the kilt would cover what I’m doing.”
She burrowed her hand under the tartan material. The temptation was strong, but I caught her wrist.
“Let’s get back to the hotel. I’m not doing anything that makes it look like I picked you up on Cadogan Street and am paying you for your favours. You’re worth much more to me than a hand job in a dark alley.” My reference to the street where Glasgow’s prostitutes hung out made Lacey move her hand away.
“I thought you couldn’t wait,” she said in a small voice. “You were the one talking blow jobs in dark alleys a moment ago.”
I moved my lips to her ear and twined my fingers through hers. “I know. I contradict myself because you mess with my damned mind. I don’t want to wait because I want to have naked touching with you at all times, but I need to remember we’re adults. No more snogging on street corners and getting so wrapped up in each other we’re practically doing it in public. Sure, I loved the thrill when we were young, but you’re right. The last thing I need is to end up with my face in the paper under the headline Excusez-Moi Monsieur Blow Job.”
She giggled and started to walk. “Fair point, Monsieur. Taxi or walk?”
“You’re the one in heels.”
“They’re not high. And it’s not far.”
A TEN-MINUTE WALK TO the Hilton turned into a thirty-minute one. Every so often, I pushed her against the railings of one of the shops or offices and kissed her thoroughly before taking her hand again and walking on as if nothing had happened. I wanted to ask her the question I asked at the City Chambers again, but I was scared to kill the mood. We’d got back to light-hearted, and I didn’t dare spoil the night.
We stumbled into the lift, entwined in each other’s arms, Lacey giggling as I tickled her waist. It was an excuse to keep her close, but I also I loved her laugh—to be the one to cause it again.
“Rory ... stop,” she choked out, spinning around in my arms.
She peered up through her lashes and met my gaze. The second our eyes met, I stopped tickling her, too focused on her plump lips coated in pink lipstick that was smeared around the edges. I swallowed, my throat dry.
Lacey sucked in a breath through her slightly parted lips and ran her hands up my back. Continuing over my shoulders, she reached the back of my neck and pressed down, coaxing me forward.
I leaned in, our lips centimetres from each other. Her breath caressed my skin, hot and inviting.
The lift doors pinged closed and I tensed. Straightening, I unlocked her arms from around my neck and stepped back, clearing my throat.
Lacey arched an eyebrow.
I pointed to the corner of the lift. “There are cameras. None of those peeping Toms in security are getting an eyeful of me sucking your tits,” I said, taking a lingering look at her cleavage. Her dress should have been illegal. Her breasts looked phenomenal in it—pushed up and in, seeming bigger and firmer.
Her gaze followed mine to her cleavage then she lifted her face and our gazes locked.
“Suck my tits, huh?”
“Fuck, yes.”
Lacey licked her lips and glanced up at the numbers counting slowly up to ten.
The lift needed to hurry the fuck up.
It arrived at our floor, and Lacey grabbed my hand to pull me out of the lift and along the corridor. She fumbled with her key card so much I plucked it from her hand, pushing it into the slot, and gaining us entry to the room. I placed it into the electricity unit, and the lights above the bed came on, blanketing the room in a warm glow.
I dropped my rucksack as Lacey kicked off her heels and shrugged out of a shawl.
“I loved your spee—”
“Fuck the speech.” I toppled her onto the bed and covered her body with mine, cupping her face and lowering my head to kiss her.
She turned her cheek to me. “What about the blow job?”
“Don’t you want something more refined than me pushing you to your knees and sticking my dick in your mouth?”
Her mouth broke into a grin. “Not sure that I do. I thought rough and ready was the name of the game.”
“I was going to ... make love to you. I thought a wedding would make you feel romantic.” Sure, I’d been horny when we left the pub. Still was. I couldn’t be in the presence of Lacey and not want to be inside her somehow—fucking her pussy, fucking her mouth, fucking her up the arse. Even though we’d only tried that a couple of times when we were younger, she’d seemed to enjoy it. And I definitely had.
However, I didn’t want Lacey to think I only wanted her for sex. Screwing her was great. It was everything I remembered and much more, but my heart was invested too.
I had no idea where her heart was. Was she in this for the fucking? If that was all I could get, I’d damn well take it.
I lifted myself to my feet and helped her up. Spinning her around, I unzipped her dress and sucked in a breath as I revealed a black lacy bra and thong, suspender belt, and stockings. Fuck. She was gorgeous.
I undid her bra, and she shucked out of it. I slipped my arms around her to massage those gorgeous breasts, and she sighed and leaned back against me, surrendering to my touch. She’d always been a sucker for having her breasts played with. And I was a tits guy.
I pinched her nipples lightly, and she arched her back, whispering my name. I rolled them between my forefingers and thumbs as I peppered her neck with soft kisses. Reading Lacey’s noises was easy. I knew her so well.
Her whimpers of pleasure gave way to disgruntled moans. I wasn’t going fast enough for her. She began to rub her pert little arse against the front of my kilt and my painfully hard erection.
I placed a hand over the lace of her thong and stopped her movements. “Are you trying to make me come before I’ve even got my kilt off?”
She curled her hand around my wrist and pushed it between her legs. “I don’t need foreplay, Rory. I need to be fucked. I’m soaking.”
“I was trying to be ro ... oh fuck it,” I said. “Get your hands on that dressing table.”
She did as I commanded, which was even more of a turn on. Hurrying to remove the belt, sporran, and kilt, I dropped them all on the floor.