“Fiske isn’t a Scottish name, Griff,” Nora reminded him as he skipped the last four steps to land right in front of her.
“But the house is from Mom’s side. And she was a Raeburn. Anyway, I heard you had a weakness.” He grinned at her before pulling her into a bear hug.
“Two words—easy access,” she said, giving him a sharp swat on the kilt.
“Topping me already? Can’t have that.”
Nora squealed as Griffin picked her up, slung her over his shoulder and started up the stairs.
“Sir?” came a low, well-modulated English accent from the bottom of the stairs. At the landing Griffin turned around before Nora could glimpse the source of the voice.
“Alfred, are you looking up my skirt?” Griffin demanded as Nora squirmed on his shoulder.
“Master Griffin, I would marry my own mother for the excuse to stab my eyes out with her brooches rather than see anything under your kilt,” the man’s voice said with elegant aplomb. “Where would you like your guest’s things, sir?”
“That’s an Oedipus Rex reference,” Nora, the eternal English major, supplied. The voice clearly came from Griffin’s butler, who sounded utterly unperturbed by the sight of his employer strolling around in nothing but a kilt and boots with a woman over his shoulder. Nora guessed this was not an uncommon occurrence.
“Stick them in the Blue Room. And no interruptions for the next couple of hours, please. My guest and I will be f**king. Two hours, Nora?”
“At least,” she agreed.
“Better make it three, Alfred.” Griffin shifted Nora higher on his shoulder and continued up the stairs.
“This is going to be a long summer, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Eight and a half inches long, if you’ll recall.”
Griffin kicked open the door to the master bedroom. He threw her unceremoniously across the monstrous bed draped in mountains of black pillows and luxurious white-and-black-striped sheets. Nora’s heart raced as Griffin climbed on top of her. She playfully put up a struggle but only for the pleasure of having Griffin capture her wrists and push them over her head. If she had to choose only one man to be with the rest of her life, it would be Søren, hands down and for all eternity. But as Griffin held her down with one hand while digging under her skirt with the other, she couldn’t deny Griffin had his own charms.
“Left boot or right?” he asked, teasing her clitoral piercing through her lace panties.
“Right.”
He dug around her right boot and pulled out a condom.
“Griffin, before you f**k me, I have to tell you something.”
Griffin paused after ripping the condom wrapper open with his teeth. He leaned close and put his mouth at her ear.
“Tell me anything....” He kissed her from her ear to her neck.
“It’s just,” she panted as he started to slip a finger into her underwear, “I need to pee.”
Griffin groaned and rolled off her. “There,” he said and pointed at a door.
“Thank you, darling. That was one helluva drive, you know? You get sick of the city?” Nora stood up and walked into the bathroom.
“Parents are in the city. Parents who want grandchildren. I am here so I won’t be forced to give them any.”
“Understandable,” Nora called out. “My mom stopped asking about grandchildren ten years ago. Just start f**king a priest and they’ll back off.”
“Your priest doesn’t put out for me.”
“True. But he’ll beat the hell out of you if you ask nicely though. Jesus, Griffin, your bathroom is bigger than my basement. Spoiled much?”
“Not nearly enough. You done yet?”
“Yes and no.”
“I don’t want to know what that means, do I?”
Nora washed and dried her hands. Pausing in the bathroom doorway, Nora looked at Griffin, who sat on the bed with his legs open wide enough she could see he wore his kilt in true Scottish fashion. She approved of this.
“You know, I should probably take a shower before we f**k. Søren gave me a very intense goodbye last night, and I haven’t washed it off yet.”
“You know I don’t mind sloppy seconds. And knowing Pope Whatadick, he probably blesses his cum before he blows it.”
“I promise you he does not,” Nora said as she strolled slowly back to the bed. “Why do you and Søren loathe each other so much?”
“Ask him,” Griffin said, reaching out to unbutton her shirt.
“I did. He won’t tell me.”
“Let’s just say we have an ongoing difference of opinion. My opinion is that he’s a pretentious arrogant prick, and he disagrees with that.”
Nora stared Griffin down. He couldn’t quite meet her eyes.
“I know that’s not true. I tell him he’s a pretentious arrogant prick all the time and he’s in full agreement. I could beat it out of you.”
“Not a chance. You don’t get to top me anymore. This summer you’re my bitch, switch.”
“You used to let me top you all the time.” Nora recalled the dozens of time she’d tied Griffin down and used and abused his poor willing self.
“Only because it was the only way you’d let me f**k you. And even then you never got to beat me.”
“Too bad. I think a good hard beating would be good for your soul. Fine, you can top me. But no beating me, either. Only dominance and bondage, alas. Søren’s rules.”