When his cock hardened to the point of excruciating need, he slid down the bed, Keara still on top of him and helped her part her thighs around his hips. She lifted herself over him and lowered on to him, impaling herself, and the hot velvet clasp of her body around him seared his senses, sent sensation pouring through him in ecstatic waves. He arched and lifted into her, reached for her hands, and held them beside his shoulders as she rode him, her pretty breasts with tight little nipples in front of his face.
He lifted his gaze to her face, and though her mouth was swollen and eyes still glossy, the pleasure he saw there made him swell even more inside her. She gasped, eyes wide, quickened the pace and he matched her, hips thrusting, fingers tight on hers. He was so close already, but he wanted her to come too, so he released her hand and slid his down between them to where their bodies joined, probed for the bud of her clit and stroked over it. She cried out, rode him harder, and then he let himself go just as she sat up and arched her back, hair hanging down her back, eyes closed. He held her hips as he fucked up into her, balls tightening and jerking as he poured himself into her. Ah, Christ. Christ. She was incredible. So good. So damn good.
Chapter Fourteen
“Maeve.”
“Hmm?” Maeve was in her office, head bent over some papers.
“We need to talk.”
“What is it, muirnín?” She lifted her head, concern shadowing her eyes. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I wanted to talk to you about you forgetting it was Tuesday. Forgetting your bridge game.”
Maeve’s lips thinned. “It’s no big shillelagh. Everyone forgets things sometimes.”
“Yes. But you’ve been forgetting lots of things.” Keara sat down on a chair beside the desk. “You forgot I was coming. You forgot you’d received that shipment.”
Maeve waved a hand, but her lips trembled. “It’s nothing, Keara.”
Keara leaned forward. “I’m worried about you.”
Maeve gave a strangled laugh. “You’re worried about me? Don’t be silly, muirnín! I’m fine. I’m seventy years old. It’s natural for the memory to fade.”
“Yes, I guess it is. I just wondered if you’d talked to your doctor about it.”
“No, of course not! What’s he going to do? He’ll just tell me I’m getting old.”
“But what if it’s not just age? What if it’s something…more serious.”
Maeve stared at Keara, her face lined with horror. “What are you saying? Do you think I have… I have…the Alzheimer’s?”
“No. I don’t know. Probably not. But it might be an idea to see your doctor.”
Maeve shook her head, her bottom lip protruding. She folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t want to know. If that’s what it is, I don’t want to know.”
“Oh no! Maeve!”
“It’s true.” She stared back at Keara, her stubbornness shining in her green eyes. “Don’t you know the Irish philosophy?”
“The…no.”
“In life, there are only two things to worry about—either you’re well or you’re sick. If you are well, there’s nothing to worry about. But if you’re sick, there are only two things to worry about—either you’ll get well, or you’ll die.” Maeve smiled. “If you get well, there’s nothing to worry about. But if you die, there are two things to worry about—you will either go to heaven, or hell. If you go to heaven there’s nothing to worry about. If you go to hell, you’ll be so busy shaking hands with all your friends you won’t have time to worry!”
Laughter bubbled helplessly out of Keara. “Oh, Maeve.”
“We’re all going to die, muirnín. I’m seventy years old. I want to live my last days enjoying them, not worrying about dying.”
Keara smiled tremulously. “You know, I actually think I get that. But for me, would you go to the doctor? Just to make sure you’re okay?”
“No, Keara. I’m not going to the doctor about something so silly.”
Keara regarded her great-aunt, her mouth set, chin tipped up, and sighed.
* * * * *
Shane showed up every night now. “I’m fine now,” she told him, folding her arms across her chest, shaking her head. “You don’t need to keep checking on me.”
He moved closer to her and bent his head to nuzzle the side of her neck. She smelled so damn good. “But I wanted to see you.”
“But Maeve’s here.” She laid her hand on his chest. Their eyes met and warmth slid over her.
“Isn’t this Tuesday?”
“No!” She laughed. “You know it’s not Tuesday.” Then she frowned. “Which reminds me. I talked to Maeve. About her memory.” She glanced down the hall, telling him Maeve was nearby.
“Why don’t we go out for a drink?”
“Good idea.”
“Maeve! Shane and I are going out for a drink.”
Maeve emerged from her bedroom holding a book. “Excellent idea. Have fun.”
Shane grinned and grabbed Keara’s hand. “My purse!” she said. “And maybe a jacket.”
He waited while she disappeared to her own room, remembering the last time he’d been in there and the hot fun they’d had. He watched Keara return, her soft leather bag slung over one shoulder, a tiny denim jacket now over her long-sleeved black T. Baggy cargo pants should not have been so attractive, but they did hug her ass in a very sexy way.
They walked down the dark street to Brady’s Pub. They found a small round table unoccupied in a dark corner. Keara studied the room. “This is very cute,” she said. “I’ve never been here.”
“You’re kidding me. Not even the last time you were in Kilkenny?”
‘I was seventeen.”
“That never stopped me,” he said with a wicked grin and she laughed.
She nodded at the sign over the bar. “I like that.” She read it aloud. “‘When we drink, we get drunk. When we get drunk, we fall asleep. When we fall asleep, we commit no sin. When we commit no sin, we go to heaven. So let’s all get drunk, and go to heaven!’”
Shane leaned toward her. “Let’s go to heaven, a thaisce. What would you like to drink?”
She laughed. “Would I be kicked out if I ordered a glass of Chardonnay?”
“Probably not.”
The waitress approached them and Shane ordered her wine and a Guinness for himself.
“So,” he said, elbows on the table. “You talked to Maeve.”
Her mouth pouted. “Yes. And it didn’t go very well.” She related her conversation to him.
“Damn.” He studied his hands clasped in front of him. “What do you know about Alzheimer’s?”
She looked pained and gave a snort. “All I know about is that Gary’s wife had it and she had to be put in a home.”
He nodded, sorry that this had come up and reminded her. He reached out and covered one of her hands with his, gave it a squeeze. “I don’t know much either. Maybe we should do some research. I don’t think there’s a cure for it, but…maybe there’s something they can do if they catch it early enough.”
“I’ll go on Maeve’s computer and Google it tomorrow.”
“Good idea.” His fingers stroked over her soft hand. Then the waitress arrived with their drinks. He released her and leaned back in his chair.
“My parents are having another party this weekend,” he said. “Wanna come?”
She blinked at him. “Did they invite me? Me and Maeve?”
“I’m sure they would.”
“Shane! You can’t invite people to your parents’ house without them knowing.”
He cast her a sexy smile. “They won’t mind.”
“I think Maeve has a date with Glen.”
“Ah. Well, you can still come.”
She tipped her head to the side and sipped her wine. “Why?”
He shrugged and looked at his beer. “Why not?”
He realized that a party at his parents place wasn’t exactly an invitation to have sex. Which is what they’d been doing. And she’d
made it clear that’s all it was. Healthy, hormone-inducing, stress-relieving sex.
He wanted more than that.
The thought sliced through him so sharply he almost gasped. What the hell was he thinking?
“Never mind,” he muttered. “Bad idea.”
Now she reached for his hand and wrapped slender fingers around his. “I’ll come,” she said softly. “I like your parents.”
He looked up at her, then away, and gave a jerky nod. “Okay. Good.”
* * * * *
Even more people filled the Dunstan home than the last time she’d been there, and Keara let Shane introduce her to so many, she’d never keep track of all the names and faces. She smiled and made small talk as they worked their way through the house to the bar set up in the kitchen and Shane handed her a glass of wine.
“Thank you.” She smiled up at him, and then his mom spotted them and rushed over.
Hugs and greetings were exchanged. “So nice to see you again, Keara! I’m glad you could come.”
“I hope I’m not imposing.”
Fiona laughed and waved a hand. “Don’t be silly! Look at this place! There’s always room for one more. Come and have some food.”
She led them over to the buffet loaded with mouthwatering dishes. Keara began filling a plate, watching in amusement as Shane loaded his to the point of overflowing.
“Hungry?” she asked.
He glanced at her as he balanced more potatoes on his potatoes. “Yeah.”
She shook her head. He was a big muscular guy, he must burn a gazillion calories. Lucky him.
They found a place to sit and eat, and Declan joined them for a few moments, too, greeting Keara warmly.
“Thank you for having me,” she said.
“Any friend of Shane’s is always welcome here,” Declan said, and gave Shane a knowing look that had her feeling warm and shifting in her seat. What were they thinking? She’d been afraid of this. They couldn’t exactly tell Shane’s parents they were just having sex.
She choked on her wine and Shane patted her back. “You okay?
She nodded. Her eyes fell on an unusual stone on a shelf nearby. “That’s pretty,” she said. “Is that a shamrock carved on it?”
“Yes.” Declan reached out and picked it up. “Funny you should notice this. Maeve gave it to us.”
“Really?”
“Yes. It’s Connemara Marble. Hand-carved stone. It’s a traditional gift between families who vow friendship through generations.”
“Oh.” Something inside her chest softened. “That is so nice.”
Declan smiled. “She’s a good friend.” And then he lifted a brow and looked from Shane to Keara. “And speaking of generations—you two are our next generations, so it’s fitting that you be friends, too.”
She glanced at Shane. Hell, she’d tried to change the subject and ended right back where they started.
Shane met her eyes. “Yeah,” he said. “Friends.”
She felt her gaze snared by his, and heat rose inside her. She liked this man. She really liked him. He annoyed her with his overprotectiveness and bossiness, but damn…she did want to be friends with him. She supposed they were friends. Friends who were sleeping together.
She took another big gulp of her wine. Declan was pulled aside by other friends and was soon involved in telling a long joke about an Englishman, an Irishman and a Scotsman. Keara and Shane sat there and listened, and when Shane reached for hand and wrapped his warm fingers around it while they laughed, she didn’t even mind.
After a while, Shane leaned close to her ear and whispered, “Wanna go to my place?”
She looked at him and pursed her lips against a smile. Her tummy tightened and warmth spread through her body.
“Sure,” she replied, and she gave him a mischievous look. “I have some things for us to try.”
His eyes went dark blue. “What things?”
“Some um…things. From Maeve’s shop.”
He coughed. “Really? Like what?”
“I have a selection of items,” she replied. “Some different toys, depending on your uh…preferences. And massage oil. Cotton candy flavor. And some honey dust.”
Shane’s gut cramped and his dick twitched, his head full of images of him massaging Keara’s naked body. Then her massaging him. And then…toys. What kinds of toys?
“Let’s go.” He grabbed her hand and all but dragged her out of his parents’ house.
He was hard as steel when they walked in to his place, Keara carrying a large shopping bag he hadn’t noticed her slip into the back seat of his car earlier. What the hell did she have in there?
He took her jacket and hung it in the closet and they stood in his spacious foyer, white tile gleaming beneath the modern steel and glass chandelier. Their eyes met. She held up the bag.
“Want to know what’s in here?” Her wicked smile teased and tempted.
“Hell yeah.”
“Let’s go upstairs.”
“Good idea.’
He followed her up the stairs, unable to take his eyes off the curves of her sweet little ass as she climbed. The things he wanted to do…
He swallowed a groan as he followed her into his bedroom. The room was dark so he flicked on the lamp mounted on the wall beside the bed and started unbuttoning his shirt.
She grinned and sat on the bed, then upended the bag and dumped out an array of products. Shane recognized some of the items, but was shocked to his core that Keara wanted to try these things. He searched her face. She looked eager, aroused…wow.
“What should we do first?” she asked, biting her lower lip as she surveyed the goods.
“Uh…Keara.”
She glanced up at him and he dropped his hands from his open shirt and stepped toward her. “You really want to use these things?”
She frowned. “Why? Don’t you? Oh God. I’m sorry. I thought…”
“No, no! I’d love to try these things with you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve used these before, haven’t you?”
“Well yes.” He hoped that wasn’t going to piss her off. But on the contrary, her frown cleared.
“I thought maybe you were too prudish to use these,” she said with a breathy laugh. “I thought I’d offended you.”
“God no! I’m uh…up for anything.”
“Yes, you are,” she murmured, glancing at his crotch.
His chest tightened. “I just wasn’t sure if you…have you used these things before?” Images of her with another guy using those toys on her flashed into his mind along with a wash of hot jealousy.
“Well…no. But I’ve been curious and…” She bit her lip and peered up at him through her lashes. “Maeve says the more sex you have, the more you want, and I guess it’s true. I just want it all the time…and these things in the store made me…” Her voice trailed off and she clasped her hands on her lap.
He smiled. “I know.”
He stepped closer and reached for her hands, drawing her to her feet. “Let’s start with a massage,” he murmured, lifting the hem of her shirt. Loose and billowy, it slipped easily over her head. She wore—dear God—red lace beneath it, a low-cut push-up bra that made the most of her small cleavage. He sucked in a breath, and found the button and zipper of the skirt she wore. “Do the panties match?”
“Of course.” She smiled up at him as he revealed the lace boy shorts.
“Oh.” His breath whooshed out of him. “These are nice. Very nice.” He turned her around to get the back view. Her butt cheeks were only half covered by the lace, tempting him to reach out and touch. So he did.
“Better take these off,” he said, through teeth clenched with restraint. “So I don’t get massage oil on them.”
She slipped her fingers inside and shimmied out of them. She pushed the toys to the carpeted floor, but kept the bottle of massage oil and handed it to him, and the look she cast him as she did was so sexy he thought he was going to come right then.
Obediently she rolled, and he sat down beside her, and popped open the massage oil. He squeezed some in a drizzle down the center of her back and she squealed.
“You’re supposed to warm it in your hands,” she gasped.
“Oh. Right.” Next time. He set the bottle aside and went to work, smoothing his hands through the oil and over her silky skin. She was smooth and small and delectable and he wanted to touch every inch of her.
She let out a long moan of pleasure and he moved lower, to her butt, caressing there with firmer strokes.
“That feels so good,” she murmured, head turned to one side on her folded arms.
“Good.” He enjoyed the feel of firm curves beneath his hands, admired the gleam the oil gave her skin in the lamplight. “You’re so beautiful, Keara.”
He moved his hands lower still, to the back of her thighs and she quivered. She liked that. He liked it too. He massaged down her legs, spent time on her small feet, and then moved back up and when he reached the top of her thighs, he pushed her legs apart so he could slide fingers between them.
Another breathy moan escaped her but she allowed him access, and he stroked slick fingers down the crease between her cheeks, lower into her soft folds, back up, teasing the small entrance there. He watched in delight as her muscles flexed and relaxed. “Oh God,” she groaned. He probed gently again and her cheeks tightened around his finger. “Relax,” he murmured. “Want me to get one of the toys?”
She lifted her head and looked at him, eyes heavy and drowsy. “Okay. But on one condition.”
He lifted a brow.
“You let me do the same thing to you.”
Whoa. What he’d had in mind…he’d done to partners, but had never had it done to him. His own butt cheeks clenched and his dick hardened even more. He sucked in air. “Okay,” he wheezed and reached for the toy he had in mind, flexible pink silicon beads of gradated sizes.
He rubbed oil over it and then slowly, gently began pushing it into her, the smallest bead first. Her ass lifted, and he slipped his other hand beneath her to find her clit. His hand was oily but she was wet, and he found the hard little nub with his thumb while he played with her behind. The room filled with her gasps and soft cries. Her hands clenched on the duvet cover and he studied her profile outlined against it, the small nose, feathery eyelashes, her top teeth sunk into her bottom lip.
Irish Sex Fairy: Ellora's Cave Page 13
