Kilty Pleasures Read online

  Kilty Pleasures

  a travel quickie

  Dreama Faire

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2011 Dreama Faire

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced or trans-mitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, including internet and e-mail, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Smashwords Edition License Notes

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  * * *

  Mary Flora MacDonald woke with a start, then sat up and looked at the window. Pitch black dark and eerily quiet. She fumbled for the lamp by the bed and succeeded in knocking over her glass of water. She closed her eyes against the bright light bulb, then slowly opened one eye and tried to focus on her watch.

  "Shit!" She flopped back on the pillow and exhaled loudly. "Three in the morning! I'll be exhausted for tomorrow's tour."

  She glared at the spilled water, then flicked off the light. She couldn't allow jet lag to ruin the first day of her vacation. She gazed at the dark window again, amazed that the small village in northern Scotland was completely silent. Back home, even at this ungodly hour, she'd hear traffic on the main roads, dogs barking, the occasional car drive by, vibrating the neighborhood with heavy bass rap music. She smiled. This was a different part of the world, a different culture. Maybe this trip would introduce her to who she really was.

  Kevin's face drifted into her thoughts and her lower lip began to quiver. How had she let him slip out of her life? He'd never made any pretense about his feelings for her and, apparently, she'd used that security to procrastinate. She'd never given him straight answers, always felt there was "something more" out there than settling down with good old vanilla-flavored Kevin. But what exactly had she been looking for? Hotter sex? More romance?

  It didn't matter, she'd blown it and now Kevin was newly married and out of her life forever. She pictured him in bed with his bride and wondered what their honeymoon had been like. Bland, for sure. Sweet as he was, Kevin had no imagination in bed and, what's more, he resisted any suggestions that veered from his normal MO. Play with the tits, a little sloppy kissing while he fumbled through the crotch hair, then climb on and grunt twice.

  Mary turned on her side and frowned. If it hadn't been for her vibrator, her sex life would have been non-existent—even though she'd had a partner! Thinking about the vibrator, she squirmed a bit. She wasn't the slightest bit sleepy now and what the hell was there to do at this hour? She grinned and jumped out of bed to rummage through her suitcase. A few minutes later, she lay back on the bed and took a deep breath, conjuring up images of the handsomest face she could imagine. Focusing on the unfamiliar features, she let her mind mold them into someone sinister and strong—and sexy as all get out.

  A stir began in her belly and her inner thighs tingled lightly. Her imaginary male partner took on more physical characteristics: broad shoulders and rippling muscles, smooth skin and a nest of dark curly hair across his wide chest. Mary's core pulsed once and she slipped her fingers down to touch the mass of thick hair protecting her need. The man in her vision loomed over her, then she touched her clit, setting off an electric bolt. She moaned and spread her legs as far as she could, all the while imagining his hands pulling her legs apart to gaze at her open pussy. She arched her back, lifting her hips toward him, her mind begging him to take her. He smiled wickedly and shook his head.

  Her fingers moved past her hard clit and dipped into the pool of need that had gathered at the crest of her swollen lips. Her other hand flicked the switch on the vibrator and she involuntarily jerked as it buzzed loudly, her body anticipating the coming pleasure. The man in her vision grasped her butt cheeks and lifted her pussy up to meet the humming tip of the long, ribbed vibrator. It slid deeper and deeper, shattering her body with pulsing waves of need. The pressure grew behind her clit and the man slipped his finger into her ass. Mary's body exploded into wave after wave of painful ecstasy and she wrapped her legs around her lover as he plunged into her.

  Mary's eyes drifted open, her fuzzy thoughts competing against one another. Daylight blazed through the small hotel window and she could hear some sounds on the street below. She stirred, then sighed. Her vibrator was still inside her. Maybe she should just turn it on again, have a quickie before the day began.

  She chuckled. "Some habits never die."

  She slid her hand along her belly, but before she could take off on another jaunt, someone knocked loudly on the door.

  "Miss MacDonald, there's a group in the lobby waiting for you."

  Crap! What the fuck time is it?

  "Tell them I'll be right down."

  She eased the vibrator from its snug cave and leaped out of bed, forgetting that the bed frame was so much higher than her own. She came down hard on one foot, lost her balance, and sprawled onto the floor. The vibrator sailed out of her hand and slammed against the door. This day was not starting well at all.

  Fifteen minutes later, she hurried into the lobby to face the other seven people in the castle tour group.

  "Sorry–I overslept," she mumbled, not meeting anyone's gaze.

  The skinny woman handling the group looked like she wished she was ten other places. She nodded. "The coach is waiting, so let's get started."

  Once on board the coach, the tour guide described the several castles they'd be visiting and promised to give a complete description of each one on arrival. Lunch would be at a pub along the way. Mary listened, then gazed out the window as the coach pulled away from the front of the quaint hotel in which she'd been lucky enough to stay. No big chain hotels for her. She wanted to experience Scotland as it really was. She frowned. So why am I taking a bus tour? Why couldn't I do this on my own? No reason at all. My event planning experience should make this a piece of cake. I'll ditch the tour when we stop for lunch.

  At twelve o'clock, the coach pulled into the parking yard of a rambling stone building that professed to be The Bull & Ram. Mary grinned, wondering what the story was behind the name. Her fellow travelers marched into the dim entry room and the women immediately headed for the restrooms. Mary stopped to look around at the charming old-time pub, complete with heavy wooden bar and elaborate keg pulls for at least a dozen different ales and lagers. Aromas comprised of a blend of smoke, alcohol, and food hung in the air, and an undercurrent of soft voices in conversation made the place feel very welcoming. She moved toward a large table already laid out for her group. Something made her stop, a feeling that someone was watching her. She turned slightly toward the bar and followed its length until she found the source of her unease. She returned the stare of a man sitting at the bar, and a small wave moved through her stomach, launching feelings in other places.

  It can't be...how weird is this!

  She was looking at the same face she'd conjured up for her wee-hours sex orgy at the hotel. Her face grew warm and her crotch stirred. He was more gorgeous than her imagination had made him! And he was staring at her as though he remembered, as though he knew what they'd don
e together. Mary's panties were soaked at this point and she desperately wanted to look away, but couldn't. The man's mouth lifted at one corner in a smile that proved he knew what she was thinking. She swallowed hard, then nodded and turned toward the table where her tour companions had settled.

  Working her way through a ploughman's lunch of cheese, bread, and beet salad, Mary tried hard not to look toward the bar. He was there, she could feel his gaze on her. She imagined him undressing her with his eyes. Maybe he'd leave and she could relax. All the visions from last night came flooding in and she clenched her thighs against the mounting tension in her crotch. The man had an incredible effect on her! She could probably come right now, just by reliving her vibrator scene. Another pulse ran through her clit and she pushed her plate aside.

  "I need to hit the restroom," she said to no one in particular.

  As she walked across the floor, she heard a barstool scrape and she picked up her pace, hurrying into the alcove where the restrooms were located. Maybe he'd be gone when she came out. In the small bathroom, she washed her hands and smoothed her hair, staring at her flushed face in the mirror. Her heart was beating just a little faster than normal. Heat curled between her legs and she slipped her hand into her panties and rubbed gently. She was soaked and she knew that bringing herself to climax wouldn't be enough. She wanted the real thing. Was this what she'd dreamed about all those years? The excitement of a hot and romantic sex partner? What better time than now? She grabbed her handbag and hurried back out into the alcove. And walked smack into the man from the bar.

  He was leaning casually against the wall, an amused look on his face. And what a face! Up close, he was even better looking than her imaginary lover. Dark, curly hair worn shaggy and longish, a shadow of beard along a wonderful strong jaw, and the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. Sure he could see her thoughts, she dropped her gaze and her heart skipped a beat. He was dressed in a kilt of yellow and black tartan. A pouch made of some type of hair hung suggestively at the level of his cock. Tan stockings came mid-calf on thick muscular legs and Mary couldn't stop staring at the tan flesh of those legs. They went all the way up... Oh God.

  "Are ye enjoyin' the countryside, lass?"

  His accent was refined and clear, and his voice rumbled like an avalanche.

  She met his gaze and another wave of heat moved across her chest. "It's wonderful."

  "Where ye be goin' next?"

  This was her chance!

  "The group is going back by way of Portree, but I want to continue up to Dunscaith Castle, so I'm heading off on my own."

  He smiled. "An' what's the great interest in that hostile part of the country?"

  "I believe my ancestors came from there. I just wanted to see my roots."

  "An' that might be...?"

  "MacDonald." She flushed, stunned by the amount of information she was giving an absolute stranger, but unable to help herself. "My name's Mary Flora MacDonald, so you can see why–"

  "Och aye! An' of course you know the stories."

  "No, not really, just that the clan came from there." She smiled. "What stories?"

  He glanced sideways and grinned as the tour director came around the corner, her forehead furrowed with irritation.

  "Do we always have to wait for you?"

  "I'm not going back with you. I have some other places I want to see, so I'm hiring a car."

  The woman narrowed her eyes, then said, "Suit yourself, but there won't be any refund on the tour. Just so you understand."

  "I do. Thanks for everything."

  The man in the kilt cleared his throat. "An' where do ye think ye'll find a car for hire in this wee village?"

  Mary stared, open-mouthed. She hadn't even considered that possibility.

  "Well, maybe a taxi?"

  "There might be one, but I doubt they'd be willin' to drive so far. Petrol is dear here."

  She glanced out the window and saw the coach pull away. What the hell was she going to do now? How stupid was this?

  "Mary Flora, if ye really want to see your ancestors, I'd be pleased to drive ye." He bowed slightly. "My name's Angus MacLeod."

  Something about the man made her trust him, though she'd be hard-pressed to say why. Besides, how bad could it be to spend some time with the man of her dreams?

  "I'd like that, if it's no trouble. Angus."

  Mary gazed out the windscreen of the little car, a Morris Minor, Angus had called it. She threw a sideways glance at him, marveling how such a large man could compress himself into such a small space. His knees peeked from beneath the hem of his kilt and Mary's imagination took off. What if she just reached over and slid her hand up his thigh? What would he do? Smack her hand and throw her out of the car? Run off the road? Stop quickly and jump her bones? She liked the idea of straddling him in this tiny car, but where would all their extra parts fit?

  Without thinking, she giggled.

  "An' what's so amusin'?"

  A flush of heat crawled up her neck and her cheeks flamed. "Oh, nothing really. Just the look on the tour director's face. I'm sure she was glad to be rid of me."

  Angus nodded and Mary changed the subject. "You mentioned stories. I'd love to hear them."

  He grinned. "Well, ye do know that the MacDonalds and MacLeods were arch enemies in the fourteenth century, don't ye?"

  "Um, no, I missed that part." She gave him a flirty look. "That won't change your mind about me, will it?"

  He chuckled. "Och no, especially since you're the descendant of a folk hero."

  Mary smiled. "Yes, I understand that my ancestor Flora rescued a prince, took him in a rowboat and escaped the men who were after him." She sighed. "It sounds so romantic."

  Angus snorted. "Reserve yer swoonin' 'til after you see your homeland."

  The little car careened along a narrow road and began to climb. The scenery was breathtaking, with its heather-blanketed hills and stark rocky shores along the loch. The sun was low in the sky in this most northerly part of Great Britain, and the shadows deepened as they approached another hill. Angus pulled into a gravel wayside and turned off the ignition.

  "This is as far as we can take the car. We'll have to hike up to the castle."

  Mary glanced up the hill. It looked like a long walk, but at least she'd see the home of the Clan MacDonald. She stole a glance at Angus. And maybe some other Scottish scenery as well.

  A breeze came up and Angus took a deep breath. "It'll be a lovely evening, and a wonderful view for the sunset." He smiled, then winked. "A perfect place to find your roots."

  A stir ran through Mary's belly, trickling into her crotch and making her legs all wobbly. Angus was just as interested in this intrigue as she!

  The big Scotsman gestured for her to go first and they started up the rocky trail. The climb was too physical to do any talking, but Mary thought about Angus right behind her and wondered what he was thinking. More than that, she wondered what he would be like in bed. Rough and tumble, the warrior taking the spoils of war? Gentle and thoughtful, a big teddy bear?

  Why was she thinking about this? She almost laughed out loud. Why? Because she was crazy to get laid by this gorgeous hunk of Bonnie Scotland! Would she need to be bold and inviting, or had he already figured her out? She looked up the trail and exhaled sharply.

  "Thank God, we're almost there!"

  Angus chuckled. "Imagine doing this in the dead of winter, carrying water and food to the castle. Which had no central heating, by the way."

  They stumbled over the crest of the hill and Mary threw herself down on a flat rock, gasping for air. Angus remained standing, but stepped up close and offered his hand.

  "Come meet yer old ghosts," he whispered.

  She stared at the hair pouch which was now at eye level and her breathlessness returned. This could be the experience of a lifetime. She slipped her hand into his, marveling at the softness of his skin and the size of his fingers curling around hers. She rose to her feet and looked up. His face was close, his e
yes dark with some intense emotion, and she suddenly wanted to kiss him. Wanted to taste that full mouth, explore those lips with her tongue.

  His eyes narrowed and he stepped back. "We'll miss the sunset, lass."

  She walked beside him toward the crumbling ruins that had once been a MacDonald stronghold, fortified and protected against the neighboring MacLeods. Would the fabled Flora have ever wanted a MacLeod in her life, in her heart, in her bed? Would Angus MacLeod's history make him spurn her desires. Had she misread him?

  Little was left of the castle walls. Only one remained standing, with a lonely empty window facing the sea, the only indication that the site had ever been inhabited. The rest was piles of rock. Mary moved to the window and leaned on the thick stone sill, gazing at the gray-green sea and imagining Flora MacDonald rowing her tiny boat across the winter-tossed waves.

  "Stay just like that, lass."

  Mary's breath froze in her chest. She started to turn, but Angus's voice sharpened.

  "Lean into the window and inhale the salt air."

  His commanding tone sent a thrill through her and she smiled. Warmth curled through her crotch and she felt her juice seeping into her panties. She wiggled her butt seductively as she leaned against the stone and, immediately, Angus stepped up behind her and slipped his hands around her hips. She closed her eyes and clenched her clit, loving the agonizing pulsations that made her feel almost light-headed.

  Angus leaned against her and the hair pouch felt hard against her ass. His hands squeezed her hips and pushed her harder against the stone wall.

  "Ye want to know what's under the kilt, don't ye?"

  She nodded, clenching her pussy harder and harder. She wanted to be so ready for him!

  "Say it aloud, lass. I want to hear the words."

  Her voice cracked as she spoke. "I want to see what's under the kilt."