By Charlotte Boyett-Compo
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Extra resources for Windstar
What would you like for lunch? ” “Samitch would do fine,” he said as he went in search of the scripts. ” She’d already steeped a pan of tea on the stove and made the simple syrup to go with it, instructing him to squeeze lemons to keep him from under foot. Another thing she’d learned about him was that he was constantly near her, watching her, keeping up a running conversation that more times than not was aimed at making her blush or sputter with laughter. He was already stretched out on the rug with pillows propped behind his head, script in hand, when she brought their lunch tray over.
His mouth crooked into a smirk. ” “I see,” she said, knowing his best friend was the late-night talk show host who was part of that heathen clan. She took a bite of her croquette. ” “And a ghillie shirt, a jabot, Balmoral hat, flashes, sporran and all the other stuff,” he said and then explained what each was. “I’d like to see you in full highland dress,” she said, thinking that would be quite the sight. He picked up the croquette and chomped off a large piece, his eyes lighting up with pleasure.
She felt him pull away from her and lifted her head to complain, to whimper but when she saw the light of desire burning in his green gaze she bit her lip. He moved up her again and put a hand to his stiff shaft, nudging her legs farther apart as he positioned himself at her entrance. Her legs were quivering as she held them in the air that way—clear of his hips until he slid smoothly and firmly into her cunt. “Ah,” she heard him sigh and he went as deep as his steely rod would allow, filling her to the brim, completing her as she’d never been complete before.