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Page 42 of One Night in Glasgow (The Scottish Billionaires #15)

“No,” I admitted, a grin spreading across my face. “Right now, I’m hiding in a bathroom stall so I can talk to you.”

“Hiding in a bathroom for me? I’m flattered.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “So, any development? Any new office drama I should know about?”

“You have no idea,” I murmured. “Kyra, the gala queen bee who has it out for me is just nasty. And Garrett is officially being a weirdo, hiding from me.” I relayed a heavily edited version of the recent events, leaving out the most predatory details.

“I knew it,” he growled, a protective anger in his voice that made me feel ridiculously safe. “He’s a snake, Beth. Be careful around him.”

“I can handle him,” I said, though I wasn’t entirely sure that was true anymore. “But I’m not thinking about him right now.”

“No?” Sean’s voice dropped, becoming a husky murmur. “What are you thinking about, then?”

“I’m thinking,” I said slowly, my breath catching, “about how your voice sounds on the phone. And how much I’d rather be hearing it from across a pillow.”

“Yeah?” he whispered. “What else are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking about how you looked last night. And how I’m still wearing the same lacy black bra I had on under that green dress. ”

A low groan came through the phone. “Fuck, Beth. Don’t do that to me. I’m about to go into a meeting.”

“Are you?” I teased, my own body humming with a pleasant heat. “Or are you just saying that to sound important?”

“I’m looking at scripts, but I’m seeing you,” he admitted, his voice rough. “I’m thinking about your mouth. About that spot on your neck that makes you gasp when I kiss it.”

A shiver went through me. My fingers tightened on the phone. “What else are you thinking about, Sean?”

“I’m thinking about finishing what we started this morning,” he growled. “About pinning you up against that ridiculous Murphy bed, pushing those skinny legs of yours aside.”

My core clenched, a liquid heat pooling between my thighs. “Promise?” I breathed.

“It’s a fucking threat, MacLeod.”

“Then what? Now that you have me up against the wall, legs spread, and I’m only in my lace see-through panties and bra, what are you going to do?”

There was a pause, and I heard his breathing deepen.

“First,” he said, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that made my knees weak, “I’d pin your wrists above your head with one hand. I’d look at you—really look at you—until you squirm.”

I leaned harder against the bathroom wall, my free hand unconsciously moving to my collarbone. “I’m not known for my patience, McCrae.”

“Then you’re going to learn some,” he countered. “Because I’d take my time. I’d trace the edge of that black lace with my fingertips, watching your skin flush. I’d dip just beneath the fabric, but never where you want me most. ”

My breath hitched. I closed my eyes, imagining his hands on me. “And then?”

“Then I’d lower my mouth to your breast, still covered in that lace. I’d suck your nipple through the fabric until it’s hard and aching, until you’re arching against me, begging for more.”

“Sean,” I whispered, my hand now resting on my breast, my thumb brushing over my nipple through my blouse and bra.

“Are you touching yourself, Beth?” His voice was rough with desire.

“Yes,” I admitted, heat flooding my cheeks.

“Good girl,” he praised, and the words sent a jolt of pleasure straight to my core. “I’d pull that bra down, not off—just enough to expose your perfect tits. I’d suck one nipple while pinching the other, just the way you like it.”

I bit my lip to stifle a moan, my fingers mimicking his words through my clothes.

“My other hand would slide down your stomach, teasing the edge of those see-through panties. I’d trace the lace, feeling how wet you are through the fabric. Are you wet now, Beth?”

“Yes,” I breathed, my thighs pressing together.

“How wet?” he demanded.

“Soaked,” I confessed, my hand dropping to press against the seam of my skirt.

“Lift your skirt,” he commanded. “Touch yourself through your panties. Tell me how it feels.”

With shaking fingers, I complied, hiking my pencil skirt up around my hips and pressing my palm against my lace-covered center. “God, Sean,” I gasped quietly. “I’m so wet I can feel it through the fabric.”

His groan was guttural. “I can picture it. Smell it. Taste it. Those black panties clinging to your pussy, showing me exactly where you need me. I’d drop to my knees, spread your thighs, and press my mouth against you through the lace.”

My fingers circled my clit through the damp fabric, my head falling back against the wall. “What would you do next?” I whispered.

“I’d pull those panties to the side—I wouldn’t even take them off—and lick one long stroke through your folds. You always taste so fucking good, Beth.”

I slipped my fingers beneath the edge of my underwear, sliding through my wetness. “I’m touching myself now,” I told him. “Imagining it’s your tongue.”

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Are you alone in there?”

“Yes,” I assured him. “The bathroom’s empty.”

“Good. Because I want you to make yourself come while I tell you exactly what I’d do to you if I was there.”

I circled my clit with slick fingers, my breath coming faster. “Tell me.”

“I’d suck your clit while I push two fingers inside you, curling them to find that spot that makes you scream. I’d fuck you with my fingers while my tongue works your clit until your thighs are shaking.”

I slid two fingers inside myself, curling them just as he described, my thumb working my clit. A small moan escaped me.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice strained. “Are you fucking yourself with your fingers, baby? Imagining they’re mine?”

“Yes,” I gasped. “God, Sean, I wish you were here.”

“So do I,” he growled. “I’m hard as steel right now, stroking myself while I think about you touching that pretty pussy. ”

The image of Sean, cock in hand while he talked to me, sent a fresh wave of arousal through me. “Are you really?” I asked.

“Yes,” he admitted. “I locked my office door the moment you called. I’ve been stroking myself since you mentioned that black bra.”

“Tell me,” I demanded, my fingers moving faster. “Tell me what you’re doing.”

“I’ve got my cock in my hand, thinking about how tight and wet you feel when I’m inside you. Thinking about how you taste, how you sound when you come. I’m imagining bending you over that bathroom sink, hiking up your skirt, and fucking you from behind while you watch in the mirror.”

“Yes,” I moaned softly, adding a third finger, stretching myself as I imagined his thick length replacing my fingers. “I want that. I want you to fuck me hard.”

“I would,” he promised. “I’d grip your hips so tight I’d leave marks. I’d pound into you until you’re gasping my name, until everyone in that fucking building knows who you belong to.”

My orgasm was building rapidly, heat coiling tight in my belly. “Sean, I’m close,” I warned.

“Wait,” he commanded. “Not yet. I want us to come together.”

I whimpered but slowed my movements, keeping myself on the edge. “Hurry,” I pleaded.

“I’m close too,” he assured me. “Thinking about you fingering yourself in a bathroom stall, trying not to make noise... God, Beth, you drive me fucking crazy.”

“Please,” I begged, my thighs trembling with the effort of holding back.

“I want you to imagine me behind you,” he said, his voice tight with restraint. “My chest pressed against your back, my cock buried deep inside you. One hand on your breast, the other between your legs, rubbing your clit as I fuck you.”

My fingers moved in time with his words, my body tensing as I fought to hold back my release.

“Now,” he growled. “Come for me now, Beth. Let me hear you.”

I pressed my face into my shoulder to muffle my cry as I came, my inner walls clenching around my fingers in rhythmic pulses. Through the phone, I heard Sean’s ragged breathing and a muffled groan as he found his own release.

For several moments, we just breathed together, coming down from our shared high. I slowly withdrew my fingers, straightening my clothes with shaking hands.

“Fuck,” Sean finally said, his voice rough. “That was...”

“Yeah,” I agreed, a giddy laugh bubbling up. “It was.”

“I need to see you,” he said, suddenly serious. “Tonight. I don’t care what time you finish. Call me.”

“I will,” I promised, my heart fluttering at the urgency in his voice. “I should get back before someone comes looking for me.”

“Beth,” he said, stopping me before I could hang up. “I meant what I said. Be careful around Garrett. And not just because I’m jealous as hell.”

“I will,” I said again, more soberly. “Can’t wait for tonight.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he promised. “And Beth? Wear that black lace bra.”

I hung up with a smile, taking a moment to compose myself before stepping out of the stall. As I washed my hands, I caught sight of my flushed face in the mirror. My eyes were bright, my lips slightly swollen from biting them.

I looked like a woman who’d just had incredible phone sex in a bathroom stall .

And I couldn’t wait to do it for real tonight.

FLUSH.

The sound, loud and jarring in the quiet bathroom, came from the stall at the other end of the row. The one right next to the door.

My blood turned to ice. My smile vanished. My entire body went rigid. No. I had checked. I had looked under every single door. They were all empty. I was sure of it.

The latch on the far stall clicked open with agonizing slowness. I hurried back into my own stall to hide just in time.

Next, I heard the soft tread of expensive shoes on the tile floor, a pause at the sinks, the sound of water running, and then the quiet, deliberate click of the restroom door closing.

I waited, my body trembling, counting to ten before I dared to move.

I slowly opened the stall door and peered out.

The room was empty. But the air felt thick, heavy with the knowledge that someone had been there.

Someone had been sitting in that first stall, in complete silence, for God knows how long.

Someone had heard everything. My flirtation, my gossip about Kyra and Garrett, my intimate, heated promises with Sean, my climax. Everything.

My stomach churned with a humiliation so profound it felt like I was going to be sick. I had to get out of there. I pushed open the heavy restroom door, my head down, and nearly collided with a solid, unmoving object that smelled of expensive perfume and condescension.

Kyra.

My blood turned to ice. Oh my God, it was her. It was her in that stall. The world narrowed to that single, horrifying thought. She had heard every dirty word, every whispered confession.

“Watch where you’re going,” Kyra snapped, her perfectly made-up face twisting into a familiar smirk as she took in my flushed cheeks and wide, panicked eyes. “Flustered, are we, MacLeod? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

My mind raced, scrambling for a defense, a denial, anything. But then I noticed it. Kyra was holding a steaming cup of coffee and a folder, clearly on her way back from the break room, walking toward the main office area, not coming from the direction of the stalls. It couldn’t have been her.

The wave of relief was so potent it almost made my knees buckle, and in its wake, the panic was replaced by a cold, sharp clarity. She hadn’t heard my call. But she was still a snake, and armed with the knowledge from my morning’s research, I finally had the venom to bite back.

“Buuuut,” she said, her voice a low, mocking purr as my silence stretched a moment too long. “I’m surprised you had the nerve to show your face here today after that performance you pulled at the gala.”

The old Beth would have withered under that glare or snapped back with a childish insult. But something had shifted. I was done being a victim. I was done being a prop.

I gave her a slow, deliberate smile, letting my gaze drift over her impeccable, expensive outfit.

“Oh, I don’t know, Kyra. I thought I handled myself rather well.

It takes a certain kind of skill to manage…

unexpected entanglements, don’t you think?

” I let my gaze flicker meaningfully over her shoulder, towards the general direction of Garrett’s office.

“Discretion is such an important quality in this line of work.”

I saw her falter. A flash of pure fury crossed her face before she masked it with indignation. For the first time, I had thrown her completely off balance.

“I have zero clue on what you’re going on about,” she hissed, her voice a little too sharp .

“Don’t you?” I replied, my smile never wavering. “Pity.” I shifted the files in my arms. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, Ms. Henderson gave me a new research project. I really must get back to work. It seems my role here is evolving.”

I brushed past her without another word, feeling a surge of triumphant adrenaline. I had stood up to my bully, and she had blinked first. That wasn’t just a win; it was information.