Page 13 of Dirty Rotten Love

“Get on the bed,” says MacLeod.

Relieved that all I have to do is follow an instruction, I spring into action. I leap, I bounce, the towel falls to the floor. I sprawl like a starfish on my back. In MacLeod’s bed.

The very corner of MacLeod’s mouth moves. A twitch. A slight curl. I think it might be a smirk. Or at least, the very beginnings of one.

It’s utterly mesmerizing. Hypnotic. It’s the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen.

I blink. I was so distracted by it, I didn’t register that MacLeod was moving, and now, all of a sudden, he is kneeling on the bed. At the bottom. Between my spread legs.

He moves again, gracefully for a man of his build, and… Holy fuck!

My lungs constrict forcefully. My spine bows. Stars spark behind my closed eyelids. Pleasure is coursing through me. Nerve endings are jangling and firing.

Soft, wet heat is surrounding my cock. There is pressure and suction and everything that is good and wonderful in the world.

Fucking hell! MacLeod just bent over and devoured my cock. Sucked the whole thing into his mouth like it’s a popsicle.

I was not expecting that. At all. I was expecting to give him a good time, not the other way round. But maybe this is how he unwinds, by sucking on someone’s cock with great focus and intensity. I can’t say I object. Far from it. If this is how he relieves tension, then call me Rory Stress-Ball Gallacher. Or should that be Stress-Cock?

My thoughts scatter and splinter. I’m orgasming harder than I ever knew was possible. I gasp through it. Ecstasy burning through me.

I heave in a breath. I open my eyes. MacLeod has finished with my cock, and he is rummaging in his bedside drawer.

Fuck. That felt like it lasted nanoseconds. I swear he wrapped his lips around my cock, and bahm! I was spilling my load down his throat.

Oh god. I just came in my boss’s mouth. I’m sure that’s not in the employee handbook.

He moves back from the bedside cabinet, and resumes his kneeling position between my legs. If he is annoyed or disappointed, or amused by how quickly I came, he’s not showing it.

He’s just smearing clear gloopy stuff over his fingers, with a serene expression on his face.

My heart flutters. Oh bloody hell, that’s lube. He’s lubing up his fingers.

He pauses. One dark eyebrow lifts. “You alright?”

“Aye,” I say on a shaky exhale.

“Changing your mind?”

I’m shaking my head vehemently before I’ve processed the words, but my body is right. I am not changing my mind. At all. If anything, any doubts, worries, or insecurities I had, are now only weak, wispy things that are only vaguely lingering out of habit.

“No, no. Carry on.”

Oh, heaven help me. Did I really just say that?

But then MacLeod does that almost-smirk again, and my chest goes all warm and tingly. My mortification and humiliation? Totally worth it.

Suddenly, a warm, slick finger is tracing gently around my hole. A strange noise bubbles out of me. Fuck, that feels good. So very good. I had no idea being touched there could feel so damn good.

His other hand rests on my inner thigh. He pushes gently, coaxing my legs wider apart, and I very willingly oblige.

The rig hums. The sea roars. The lightbulb above us buzzes in its plastic casing. And it all sounds like a serenade. A purposeful accompaniment to a moment that feels more significant than it should.

My chin lifts. My eyes roll back. I’m moaning. My body has taken control, and I’m merely along for the ride.

MacLeod gently eases his finger inside me. It feels wonderful. Not odd, or an invasion. Not even strange or uncomfortable. Just perfect.

He moves his finger in and out. A gentle glide that sends me to heaven. His promise of making me fall apart several times was not an idle boast. It was a vow. And I am very happy about that. Ecstatic.