Page 124 of Geordie

Geordie moves his sporran to rest on his hip. I wrap my legs around his waist, then snake my arms around his neck. He uses a hand to push his cock inside me. God, he feels good as I tighten around his hardness. I sigh from the joy of it that he's here and he can't wait to fuck me senseless. He places the flat of his hands on either side of my head. Oh shit, looking into his eyes as he hammers me will be intense. I steal a kiss just before he slips into the laird of the manor having forbidden sex with his favorite female servant.

There's no grinding or a slow in and out to work up to his momentum. He slams into me, pumping me like it's a quick, dirty fuck. His face is inches from mine as he grunts out tirades of Gaelic while he claims me over and over with his thrusts.

We're panting like runners, and at the end of this our clothes will reek of sex. What I thought would be quick is going on longer, as we try to get as much pleasure as we can from the other. I've been without him for too long to care if this lasts for hours. His gaze is unfocused, but he doesn't look away from me as his hunger takes him. I love this side of Geordie; he's all beast and adrenaline, like he's about to devour me.

“Are you with me, lass?” he grinds out as my back pushes against the wall.

I almost orgasm on that rumbling sexy voice that haunts me. I close my eyes and kiss the beast. “Come with me,” I whisper. “Come inside me.”

“I'm chasing you, my wee witch. I'm about to catch you,” he pants in my ear. “I'm not far away.”

He's grinding, pushing in as far as he can go. His drive stops, chest heaving. He lets out a low, rumbling stream of Gaelic, then, “Oh shite,” as his release overtakes him. His jizz fills me up, his warm come dripping from my pussy, some spilling to the floor. Geordie's finger drops to my clit, stroking, his gaze locking with mine. Even after his release, he thinks of me. “Come for me, Leannan, don't leave me behind.” I close my eyes, concentrating on his fingers strumming, his cock still inside me and the faint sound of the party. I throw my head back, thumping the wall as I release, then I get a kiss from his whiskey-soaked lips that brings me back.

I let go of him, my feet touching the floor. I'm a little unsteady, my hand bracing against the wall. Geordie steps back as his kilt falls into place. He looks unruffled as he straightens his sporran, pulls at the sleeves of his jacket. Unlike me, who looks like I've fallen down a hole. He swipes up my panties, handing them to me. They’re in shreds. The way he rips up my underwear, I need to buy it by the case. I try to pat my hair into place, eyes darting down the hall. “I've got to clean up before we go back to the party.”

Geordie pushes a lock of my hair behind my ear. “My room is a few doors down; you can clean up there.”

“You mean your room was a few doors down and you fucked me in the hall?”

“Aye.” He grins. “Is there another observation you'd like to make?”

Once back in order, Geordie leads me through the passage farther away from the guests. “Where are we going?”

“I promised to introduce you to Granda. He'll flirt with you, no doubt; he likes beautiful women. Granda is wily, so be mindful.”

We enter what looks like a study with shelves of books, a high ceiling, and vaulted windows; maybe it was once a small chapel. A tall, elegant man is dressed in a formal kilt. I saw him at the christening party surrounded by guests, but I didn't know who he was. He sits in an overstuffed green leather chair. A dog is near his feet, and a drink and a book lay open on a small table beside him. I'll have to get used to stepping into a time warp in this house, but right now, it seems like an adventure.

“Mr. MacTavish,” I say, crossing the room, “It's wonderful to meet you.”

“I assume you are the mysterious, beautiful Lily, a woman of purity and innocence. That's the meaning of your name.” He reaches out to touch my hand. “Please sit. Geordie, pour a drink for yourself and Lily.”

He glances up at me. “Please call me Ian, and where is wee Innis?”

I sit in a chair across from him. Geordie hands me a glass, sitting next to me. “Connie is with the baby,” I say, taking a sip of the amber liquid. “She wants to spend as much time as she can with her before she leaves tomorrow.”

He nods. “I hope you don't mind, but I have questions. Call it a grandfather's prerogative.”

I smile, but remember Geordie's warning. “What would you like to know?”

“The ceremony was a wee bit unusual. Connie held the child during the christening. The priest said Innis has two mothers. What does this mean?”

“Granda,” Geordie interrupts. “We've talked about this—”

“Aye, we did, but after the declaration in church, I want to know who the biological mother is. I have a right to know who my kin is.”

They glare at one another. I clear my throat before it gets heated. “The short answer is this: Geordie and I are the biological parents. I had a hard time conceiving, so we used Connie as a surrogate. Our fertilized material was placed inside her womb. Connie and I became friends during her pregnancy. She did the hard part. She is also Innis' mother.”

“You are in agreement with this version?” he says to Geordie. “You're sure this is your baby? You read about horror stories and mix-ups all the time.”

“We had a DNA test done. She's ours. She's a MacTavish, if that's what you're asking.”

“Good, good. Sensible, in fact. Now, when is the marriage? Lochlan and Kenzie have already declared a date.”

Geordie and I glance at each other. I should have been prepared for that question.

“You've done this backwards,” Ian says. “At least make this right. You have a child.”

“We agreed to be co-parents,” Geordie says, as if he's made this clear to him before.

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