Page 91 of 'Til All the Seas Run Dry

“Take what off?” Her voice was a whisper.

“All of it,” Callum growled.

Jory looked around, as if she expected to find someone watching in the dark parking lot. As if any mere mortal would be able to see them clearly. Then, without breaking eye contact, she reached down and pulled her foot out of the wetsuit, dropping it to the pavement with a wet slap.

She tucked her thumbs into the waistband of her bikini bottoms and slid them down her legs, bending until they passed her knees and then straightening as they fell to her ankles with another wet sound.

She stood there in only the bikini top, which looked like the sports bras he saw athletes wear. It compressed her breasts, pressing them close against her chest, taunting him. He hadn’t seen those breasts in a thousand years. The ochre skin with the brown tips that turned up slightly.

“All of it,” he repeated hoarsely.

She smirked. But then she turned, giving him her back as she crossed her arms over her chest and lifted the top over her head, tossing in behind her. Another wet slap on the pavement. Jory had just turned her head to glance flirtatiously over her shoulder when he was there, pressing her naked body against the side of the SUV.

She gasped.

“Is it cold, mo cridhe?” he asked.

Jory shivered. The air was frigid around them, no doubt the metal of the car was just as cold against the sensitive heat of her body. Her breath was sawing in and out of her lungs now, coming in short, labored bursts. He pressed closer, feeling the rise and fall of her shoulder blades against his chest. The neoprene of his own wetsuit was tight and uncomfortable against his erection.

“You thought to turn and hide from me?” he asked, skating his lips lightly against the curved plane of her shoulder, causing another shiver to rack her body.

“Tease,” she whined. “Just wanted to tease you a little.”

“Tease me a little?” he asked, his teeth at her neck. Not pressing. Just… there. “Tease me a little? Dinnae you ken that you’ve done nothing but tease me since I saw you in Hank’s kitchen weeks ago?”

She shook her head.

“Shall I tease you the way you’ve teased me, Jory?”

She bit her lip, and Callum groaned against her neck. He shifted his hands from their grip on her hips, sliding them up the curves of her belly, the backs of his knuckles rubbing against the cold metal of the car as his palms caressed her damp, quivering skin. When he reached her breasts, he cupped their weight in his palms. She whimpered.

“Just a wee tease, Jory,” he said, his lips moving against her skin with every word.

She arched her back slightly, a subconscious gesture, that pressed her breasts more firmly into his hands. He caught the cold-hardened nipples between his forefingers and middle fingers, pinching the digits together until she squirmed. But he didn’t move. He didn’t roll them between his thumbs and forefingers the way he wanted to, the way he knew she liked. He only pinched. Hard enough to make her wild, but not enough to satisfy her.

“Just a wee tease,” he said before scraping his teeth against her pulse.

He dropped a hand to her sex and cupped it firmly, using his hold to anchor her body tight against his but not giving her any more than that.

“Callum,” she whined.

“Shhhh, mo ghraidh. ’Tis only a wee bit of teasing,” he said huskily, pressing his throbbing groin against her back.

“Why do you hate me?” she sobbed, dropping her forehead to the side of the SUV with a shudder.

“I dinnae hate you, Jory.”

“You do,” she protested, her voice rising in both volume and tone. “You do hate me, Callum MacLeod, or you wouldn’t tease me like this. And I—I—I hate you, too. You can—oh, fuck,” she groaned as he pressed his middle finger hard against her clit, delving it quickly between the slick parting of her cunt.

“Do you really hate me, Jory?” Callum whispered in her ear. He made a hard, slow circle with the tip of his middle finger, circling her clit closely. She rose up onto her toes, her palms braced against the car. “Because I dinnae hate you at all. I couldnae hate you if my very life depended on it. I only want to make you feel verra, verra good. Will you let me?”

She stopped writhing. Until that point, Callum wasn’t sure if she’d been trying to get closer or farther away. He wasn’t sure she knew either. But she stopped, sagging against him, letting him take much of the weight of her body in his hands, holding her up with the hand at her breast and the hand cradling her cunt.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she said in a watery voice.

He gave her more of him, pressing her even more firmly against the side of the car. “Talk to me.”

“I’m afraid,” she said, in a voice too quiet to be a whisper.