Free Writing Mr. Right by Michaela Wright

by eleven.”
    “Ah grand, it’s only half eight. We’ve plenty of time, then.”
    She turned her head to look at him. “Time for what?”
    “Time for me tae make ye a nice, full Scottish breakfast. Can’t have ye leave The Highlands without it.”
    Georgia began to wriggle against him, rocking her ass from side to side. His cock reacted instantly. “Really? That’s how you plan to spend your morning? Cooking?”
    He pressed his forehead to her shoulder and let his hips match her rhythm, pressing himself into her as she moved. He smiled. “Careful, woman. You’re gonna get me goin again.”
    “God forbid.”
    “How many times will this be? Six? Seven?”
    Georgia gave him an unimpressed expression. “Oh please. Grandstander. This is only number five.”
    “Christ! We best get moving if we’re gonna crack a half dozen.”
    He tossed back the comforter and slapped her ass, relishing in the yelp and giggle that it drew. Then he lunged for her, taking her by the full light of morning pouring through the open windows.
    They took their time. Garrett basked in the pleasure of lazy morning sex with Georgia as though they’d been lovers for years. Something about her was so easy – her easy laugh, her determination to please him and to help him please her. There was no clumsy hair pulling or awkward repositioning. When she wanted something different, she damn well asked for it. Yet, unlike any other woman he’d ever been with, Georgia seemed to love everything he did.
    And they laughed; God they laughed constantly.
    “Will ye consider this a failure if we don’t make it tae eight?”
    Georgia was sitting up against a mound of pillows as he finally rose from the bed.
    “No, you’re still the perfect man, either way.”
    “Am I still? Bloody fantastic.”
    He curled her fingers with his, turning his hand over to kiss it. She stopped, her lips just a few inches from his hand as she ran her fingers over a long forgotten scar there.
    “How’d you get this?”
    Garrett lifted his head to look over her shoulder, glancing at the white mark on the back of his hand. “Ehm, ye don’t want tae know.”
    She turned back to glance at him. “I do want to know.”
    Garrett raised his brows, inhaling through his nose. “I took a fish hook to the hand when I was young.”
    Georgia hissed, shuddering at the thought. He didn’t blame her. His cousin Scott had swung his rod in Garrett’s direction, catching the hook on the back of his knuckles and ripping across his hand before Garrett’s Uncle Ross grabbed the rod from Scott’s hands and settled in to pry the hook from Garrett’s tiny hand.
    Georgia cringed again, hearing this.
    “Wasn’t pleasant. Learned never tae go fishin with idiots, though. Life lesson.”
    Georgia ran her finger along the line, then pulled his hand to her lips and kissed the scar.
    He smiled, kissed her shoulder, and rose from the bed.
    Georgia pinched his bum as he climbed over her. “Next you’ll tell me your name is Douglas MacCready.”
    “Douglas MacCready? Why would I say that?”
    The studio was bright and open, the sun glowing off the high white walls. There were no partitions in the apartment. His bed sat against one wall, looking directly across to the kitchen, with the raw wood based counters and the stainless steel refrigerator. He could cook her breakfast while staring across the apartment, chatting with her all while she still sat in his bed, her hair tussled and wild above her head. She was oblivious to her morning hairdo as he sauntered across the room, bareassed and cold. He couldn’t take his eyes off her a moment.
    She gave a half laugh and shook her head. “Well, because it would – it would just be uncanny, I guess.”
    “Well, my name is Garrett, as ye know.”
    “Yes, I know.”
    “But Douglas is one of my middle names.”
    Her skin was glowing, surrounded by white sheets and pillows. Her hair was an absolute mess, and she looked beautiful. Even moreso than the