The Play

“You’re not bad yourself,” I tell him, gesturing for him to turn around, “Let’s see all of you.”

He obliges. “Never seen a man in a kilt before?”

“Not other than the bagpipers on the street and I wouldn’t dream of doing this to them.” I reach down and stroke his warm, strong quads, my fingers flipping up the hem of his kilt and going up, up. Up.

I grin. “No underwear, huh,” I say, softly teasing him. He hardens under my touch. “It’s risky to get an erection in this. You’ll be tent-poling it.”

“Tell me about it,” he says gruffly. “But if you don’t stop man-handling me, we’re going to be very, very late for this thing. I’ll make sure of that.”

It’s always tempting, especially when he feels so deliciously hot, long and thick under my hand.

“I’ll make it quick,” I tell him, dropping to my knees and flipping the kilt over my head.

“Bloody hell,” he says with a throaty moan, his fingers curling into my hair as I take as much of him as I can into my mouth. The salty hit of him against my tongue spurs me on, wanting to make his eyes roll back in his head. He’s such a big, masculine man made up of so many dark and damaged parts, but the fact that I can ruin him with my tongue, mouth and hands is addicting beyond anything else.

It doesn’t take long to make him come, shooting nearly straight down the back of my throat.

“Fuck,” he mutters, voice straining. “Love, you undo me.”

“Good,” I say, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and peering out from beneath the kilt. He’s staring at me with those lazy, hooded eyes and I know I’ve done a good job. His mood has changed from being slightly on edge to at peace. Maybe if I just keep fucking him throughout the event, everything will go smoothly.

“I’m ready to go,” I tell him, standing up. “Told you I’d be quick.”

He shakes his head at me and then impulsively kisses me. I love that he doesn’t care if I’ve just sucked him off or not.

I ask him if he’s going to call a cab for us, but since we’re taking Lionel with us, Amara comes to pick us up in her car. She also looks beautiful in a simple green cocktail dress, her red hair piled high on her head.

“Well aren’t you three the belles of the ball,” she says as we climb in. Even Lionel has a dark leather leash and a tartan bowtie that matches Lachlan’s kilt.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” I tell her, proud that I’m the one who suggested her dress to her when we went shopping.

The gala is held at a hotel near the castle so it doesn’t take too long for us to get there, though Amara says she’ll drop us off first and find herself parking after. When I see all the fancy people outside, lining up to get in, I’m nervous. I mean, there’s even a person with a camera taking pictures of everyone as they enter the hotel.

“Is that the paparazzi?” I ask Lachlan.

He looks out the window and grunts, shrugging. Guess he doesn’t know but it does remind me that I told Jessica I’d try and write an article about the event. I bring my phone out of my clutch and check the battery power, making sure there’s enough juice left for me to take some notes and observations about the event. Just that alone makes the situation easier to handle.

I glance at Lachlan, studying his handsome face. He doesn’t necessarily seem nervous but that mellowness in his eyes is gone and he’s observing the world with a level of hardness.

“Hey,” I say softly, feeling nothing but love for him. I grab his hand. “Thank you for inviting me.”

He regards me like I have two heads. “Of course I would invite you. That’s pretty much a given now, isn’t it? Where you go, I go.”

But his words hang in the air for a moment because we both know that’s not exactly true. I wonder, if I asked him to come to San Francisco to be with me, would he do it? Would he give up everything for me? Why couldn’t we both be in a relationship where neither one of us has to sacrifice anything?

The world just doesn’t work that way, I guess. I’m not an expert on love, but from the love I’ve seen around me, it’s not always easy. Nicola had a hell of a time finding a guy – the right guy – before she found Bram, and even then there were some uncomfortable truths she had to come to terms with. Stephanie and Linden were friends forever before they made their stupid pact to each other and then Linden majorly fucked it all up, separating the two for a long time before they both realized they needed each other. And then my mother and father. They seemed to have an epic, fairytale kind of love story but in the end, death pulled them apart. The greatest obstacle of them all, something no relationship can ever overcome.

There was no reason why the road for us should be easy. I just didn’t understand why it had to be so hard. I figured if I ever met someone I loved with my heart and soul, that it would at least run smoothly at first, before the hard obstacles were thrown in the way.

But there is no time for pity and doubt, not now. I’d been with Kyle for years and years, after a long, slow courtship, and I had never ever felt for him what I feel for Lachlan. That alone has made it all worth it.

“Come on, love,” he says to me as Amara puts the car in park. Already the photographer turns his flashbulbs on us.

I freeze but Lachlan puts his hand on the small of my back and leans in to me, whispering, “It’s all right. Just smile. I don’t like it either but it’s just for tonight and it’s all a good cause. Think of the dogs.”

I think of Lionel as I step out to the sidewalk, Lachlan pulling me to his side, arm around my waist, staring stoically at the cameras. Lionel sidles between us and at the lightest command from Lachlan, sits down, hamming for the flashbulbs too.

I have to admit, it’s hard not to smile when you’re on the arm of this man, especially when people are yelling his name. I know that being the centre of attention is the last thing that Lachlan wants too, but he handles it with so much ease it surprises me.

He doesn’t waste too much time though before he whisks me inside the hotel, Lionel trotting proudly beside him.

It’s crazy inside. There are fancy-dressed people everywhere and even though I know I look the part, I sure don’t feel the part. This is part of some society that I’ve never belonged to and it’s only Lachlan’s vice-like grip on my hand that keeps me sane. In fact, he only lets go to shake the hand of someone and other than that, he’s holding onto me.

I can’t remember anyone’s names. I spot Thierry, John and a few other rugby players in different parts of the venue, and later we see Amara, Jessica and Donald, but other than that, all the people I meet blur into one. It’s pretty obvious right away that a lot of them don’t really care about the animals, or about Lachlan in particular. They just want to be seen doing the right thing in front of the right people. But charity for the wrong reasons is still charity and whatever can help the dogs is always a good thing.

I have to say, I’m completely smitten by the way Lachlan treats me. I was really worried about this event, more so than I admitted to myself. But he hasn’t had a thing to drink, while I swill champagne and feel guilty about it, he drinks sparkling water with lime and that’s it. While he’s approached by people again and again and again, he always introduces me first as his girlfriend. He pulls me into conversations, never leaves me out of them, always has his hand in mine or around my waist. He makes me as part of his world as possible, as if I’m a permanent fixture, as if I always have been.

And I can’t help but stare at him with big, googly eyes. If I was a cartoon, I would have hearts in them and I would be constantly sighing and I’m sure I look no different to someone watching me from afar. I am smitten, hanging onto his succinct words in that elegant brogue, the way he focuses on each and every person with those magnetic eyes of him, holding them in his stare. I know that he’s doing this because he has to, that he’s not usually so personable, but he’s just so damn good at it that he fools even me.