by L.H. Cosway
“We actually have plans,” Annie answered, giving him a small smile. “But maybe some other time.”
Kurt looked like the cat that got the cream, smiling back at her lasciviously. “Yeah, I’d like that. Another time then.” Shooting me one last hostile glance, he turned and left the apartment. The moment the door clicked shut, I began walking Annie backward until her back met the wall.
“Some other time?” I said, cocking an eyebrow.
“I was being polite.”
“You smiled at him.”
“Yeah…he’s my neighbor.”
My tone was tender but firm when I replied, “Annie dearest, forgive me for being blunt, but he wants to fuck you. Something you’ll need to understand about me—I won’t tolerate men like that, especially not in your apartment. You’re mine. I told you this. This is the way it works.”
Her voice was tiny but distinctly outraged. “Are you fucking serious?”
I was surprised by how easily she’d cursed and how natural it sounded slipping from her lovely lips; it seemed my Annie had a dirty mouth. But being this close to her, having her smell surround me and her pliant body flush with mine, it wasn’t a surprise that I grew aroused.
I pressed the evidence of this hard into her thigh, and she let out a little gasp.
“Let go of the righteous indignation, Annie. We’re together now, and there are going to be rules. I don’t want other men alone with you in your apartment, but it goes both ways. I won’t have women at my place, either. Shit, I don’t even want to look at any other woman but you. I feel…very protective of you. Irrationally so? Yeah, maybe. But it’s just the way it has to be. I promise you, once you realize all I want to give you, you’ll like it. Hell, you’ll love it. This is us, and this is permanent.”
Something in her melted. I could feel it in the way her body lost all tension. She sank into me, her hand pressed firmly into my chest. I didn’t want to talk anymore, so I brought my mouth to her swan-like neck and licked a line all the way to her earlobe. She trembled and gripped my shirt. Grabbing the back of her knees, I easily pulled her up, and she wrapped her legs around my waist. It was the perfect position for me to grind my erection right into her sweet spot.
“Ronan,” she sighed right before I captured her lips with mine, plunging my tongue into her soft, wet mouth. I began to move my hips back and forth rhythmically as I devoured her with my teeth, my lips, my tongue. She was so warm and soft I felt I could get lost in her for hours, days. I didn’t know how long we’d been kissing when her phone began to vibrate loudly over on her coffee table.
She loosened her legs and dropped down, breathing heavily and resting her face in the crook of my neck. “God, what are we doing?” she murmured as though to herself. When I took her chin between my fingers and lifted her face to me, she seemed overwhelmed. I was going way too fast, but I couldn’t seem to help it. There was something about Kurt’s presence that made some ridiculous caveman part of me need to stake my claim.
By the time the phone stopped buzzing, Annie seemed to have collected herself.
“Let’s go—grab your coat.”
She nodded, though she appeared to still be dazed as she walked to the closet; but then she suddenly turned back to me. “Oh! I almost forgot.”
“Forgot what?”
“I….” Her eyes lifted to mine then fluttered away to the table behind me. “I got you something.”
“What?”
She walked past me, giving me a little smile, then retrieved a black unmarked bag. “It’s not on the market yet, but it’s supposed to be much better than the latest model; and I noticed you don’t have a watch, so I just thought…here.” She shoved the bag into my hands.
I studied her. “You don’t need to buy me anything.”
“I know. I wanted to do it.”
“Why?”
“Because….” She shrugged, tucking her hair behind her ear self-consciously. “Because, honestly, it felt good. It felt good to think about you and what you might want, what you might need….” Her voice trailed off, and she looked nervous and uncertain.
Her answer was alarming, and I wasn’t sure why it unsettled me. Nevertheless, I tried to give her a reassuring smile as I reached in the bag, pulling out a very sleek, high-tech watch in futuristic-looking packaging.
“It’s a watch,” I said. By the looks of it, it also appeared to be a very expensive watch.
“Yes. But it’s more than that. You can use it to track your calories—both intake and calories burned, and you can enter diet data directly—and distance is recorded via the GPS tracking. And it also lets you send and receive tweets and take pictures which you can upload immediately to social media. It’s 4G, and you’re already connected. So you can do it all anywhere, anytime.” She was smiling at me, a big, hopeful grin. “I thought it might make your online interactions a little easier, plus the fitness tracker….”
Being connected all the time sounded awful; but I saw that she’d put a lot of thought into the gift and was excited about it, so I did the only thing I could.
I said, “Wow, thank you, Annie. This is…really great.” I even sounded like I meant it, probably because I did mean it.
Just the fact that she’d bought me a present blew me away. I was on her mind; she was thinking of ways to make me happy. That was the real gift.
***
I held her hand as we made our way outside to hail a cab. I took her to Tom’s for dinner because she seemed to really like the food there. Thankfully, tonight was Tom’s night off, so I wouldn’t have to sit through Annie fangirling him again.
Instead of sitting opposite her at the booth, I sat right next to her. After what happened at her place, I felt the need to be as close as I could possibly get.
I hadn’t planned on drinking, but strangely, when the waitress came to take our order, I found myself asking for a beer. These feelings I had for Annie, the intensity of them, shit, it was no surprise I needed something to take the edge off. Annie ordered a glass of red wine, and I couldn’t stop staring when her full lips curved around the edge of the glass. I could see in her eyes that she knew exactly what I was thinking.
I asked her lots of questions about her life now, her childhood, the kinds of things she liked to do. She was a tough nut to crack for most of it, only giving me quick, close-ended answers. I wanted to know about the things she’d been through as a kid. Just call me a masochist because I knew hearing about it would piss me off, but I still had this fierce need to know it all, somehow exorcise those demons for her.
She turned the conversation back on me and seemed more than content to listen as I talked about myself. In fact, she ate it up. I saw genuine interest with each new story; it didn’t matter if I was talking about pranks during college or a particularly vicious rugby match, her eyes were bright, watchful, engrossed. She was enthralled, hung on my every word.
She made me feel like I was the king of fascinating blokes. It was a heady feeling, seductive, did wonders for my ego. It confirmed that she genuinely liked me.
“You’re a great storyteller.” Her words were a little slurred, and I smiled warmly. “This was nice,” she went on as she gazed up at me from beneath her thick lashes. She was on her third glass of wine, her cheeks growing rosy, and I’d just finished my second beer. The waitress came and set the bill on the table.
“It’s not over yet,” I replied, rubbing my thumb over her bottom lip. I felt her breath sweep over my skin in a rush.
“No?”
I shook my head, my lips curving in a smile. “I’m taking you dancing.”
Her eyes got big and round, and she seemed surprised. “You dance?”
I nodded. “Relatively well.”
It wasn’t long before we were being papped making our way inside a flashy nightclub in a stylish area of Manhattan. Truth be told, Tom had suggested the place. I knew no more about flashy Manhattan nightclubs than I did about open heart surgery. With my hand firmly on Annie’s lower b
ack, I ushered her to the bar, where a tall, slim woman wearing a belly top took our drinks order.
“Oh, my God! You’re Ronan Fitzpatrick, aren’t you?” a female voice squealed from behind me. Annie got a hunted look on her face and focused intently on the glass she was holding. It was moments like these that I realized just how unused she was to being around people. Obviously, she wasn’t sheltered, but she’d kept herself away from social situations for so long that she was no longer equipped to handle them. I turned to find three women wearing tight little dresses and sky-high heels smiling at me like I’d just told them they’d won the Lotto.
“It is him!” another said. “Could you please sign something for us? We’ve been following your romance this week in all the magazines, and we are just obsessed with the both of you.” They all gave Annie encouraging smiles, but she just stood quietly next to me as though frozen. I signed some napkins for them and let them take some pictures, and they gushed a little more before finally leaving us alone. The barwoman tapped me on the shoulder then and handed me a card.
“We’ve got a private VIP section upstairs if you’d prefer,” she suggested.
I took the card, thanked her, and then slid my hand into Annie’s.
“Did you notice how those women didn’t talk about Brona?” said Annie. “This is good. It means people are focusing more on our relationship than her story.”
“True, but it doesn’t surprise me,” I said tenderly. “One look at those big brown eyes of yours and the public probably fell head over heels.”
Ignoring my compliment, she asked, “Are we going upstairs now?”
“Yeah, soon, but first I want to dance with you,” I replied, leading her to the busy dance floor. The DJ started playing “Nightcall,” and the heavy electronic beat sank into my bones. I brought my arms around Annie’s waist and pulled her close, moving our bodies to the hypnotic song. I stared down at her the entire time, admiring how her lashes cast a dark shadow over her cheekbones. She refused to look at me, instead keeping her gaze fixed firmly in the vicinity of my neck. Frustrated, I brought my hands up to her face and cupped her cheeks, tilting her head so that she’d finally give me her eyes. Her skin felt warm and soft beneath my sport-roughened palms.
Our hips began to move in unison—a slow, sensual rhythm—and now that our gazes were locked, it felt like neither one of us could look away. I stared deep into her eyes, and even though we were surrounded by dozens of strangers, it felt more intimate somehow than if I were inside her. I felt like I was trying to see right into her soul. Right then I knew that this woman had the power to destroy me. It was a frightening prospect. She was way, way deep under my skin. I could hardly fathom what adding sex to the equation would bring, especially if she was open to doing things my way.
“I feel like I could lose myself and find myself in you, Annie,” I murmured close to her ear.
She swallowed. “Don’t say things like that.”
“I can’t help it. Believe me, I’ve tried. You make me feel everything.”
Her body seemed to sink further into mine at that moment, and before I knew it, I was leading her upstairs to the private section the barwoman had recommended. A man in a suit led us to a little half-crescent alcove with plush, expensive-looking seating. Annie made a move to sit down, but I pulled her arm and twirled her so she fell onto my lap. I knew that fourth glass of wine was taking its toll when, instead of protesting, she let out a little giggle. God, she was so fucking sexy. Frenzied, I fisted her long, silky hair in my hand, yanked gently, and then brought my mouth over hers. I heard a small muffled moan as she strained to get closer, her breasts pushing into my chest deliciously.
Letting go of her hair, I grabbed her hips and lifted her so that she was straddling me. It was such a small movement, but it made all the difference. I knew Annie could feel it, too, when she sighed my name.
“Ronan….”
“Can you feel me, love?” I asked darkly, trailing my mouth down her neck, across her collarbone, and over her lush cleavage. I dragged my lips over the tops of her breasts and felt her quivering. Using one hand, I gripped her neck and could feel her pulse fluttering against my fingertips.
“Yeah,” she finally answered, all breathy. “I need more.”
She didn’t have to ask twice. I suddenly appreciated that the skirt of her dress was long and flared rather than close-fitting because it meant I could slide my hand under without it really looking like we were doing more than kissing. Slowly, I ran my palm up her silky thigh before slipping it between her legs and cupping her over her lacy underwear. I didn’t think I’d ever been this turned on in my life. Every little sound she made, every movement, made me feel like I might come without her even needing to touch me.
“Oh, God,” she moaned, seeking my lips eagerly. I sank my tongue into her mouth at the same moment I slid my hand under the lace and felt her for the first time. Fuck, she was wet. She was getting loud now; but the music in the club was blaring, so I was the only one who could hear her. There was something exciting about that, about the fact that one of the workers could come by and discover what we were doing at any moment. I think Annie felt that excitement, too, because her skin was damp and had goosebumps where I was still holding tightly onto her neck. That was the sign that I was the one in control, the one leading her, even though she was on top.
I sank two fingers inside her and felt her pulse all around me. Jesus, I didn’t think I’d last much longer. Groaning, I sought her clit with my thumb, rubbing circles while my fingers moved in a rhythm inside her. She was lost to me then, and I was lost to her. She owned me, and she didn’t have a clue. I broke our kiss because I wanted to see her when she came. I knew she was close because her entire body felt like a coiled spring. Leaning back against the seat, I stared up at her, my hand still working beneath her dress.
Her long hair hung to the side of her face, her lips plump from kissing and her cheeks pink. Her chest rose and fell, making me wish we weren’t in public so I could strip her bare. My body was covered in a layer of perspiration, I was so worked up, and then she came with a sharp, keening cry and tremors that lasted and lasted. She collapsed into my arms, and I was completely done for. Her face was in my neck, mouth planting kisses and murmuring indistinct words.
“That’s it, Annie, that’s it,” I said, my fingers still inside her. I caressed her cheek with my other hand and whispered in her ear. “Come home with me.”
“I shouldn’t….”
“But you want to. For once in your life, let yourself have what you want.”
She looked at me then, biting on her bottom lip, and replied with that sweet little word, “Okay.”
The entire taxi ride to my building, I kissed her. I could have kissed her for hours. You know, those lazy afternoon sessions on the couch when just kissing is enough? Well, I could have done that every day with Annie and never tired of it.
In the lift up to the penthouse, my hands were all over her, in her hair, squeezing her arse, molding her breasts. Hers were all over me, too. She was finally letting go of her inhibitions. When she pressed her hand against my cock, I wanted to bite her, it felt so good. I kissed her so fiercely her lips were probably going to be sore in the morning.
In my mind, I searched through my memory of what I had in the penthouse. I hadn’t brought very much with me, but there had to be something I could use to tie her up. Then I remembered the welcome basket that had been there for me when I arrived. It had silky red ribbon wrapped all around it. It wouldn’t be great, but it would do for now.
Managing to slot my key in the door and still keep my mouth on hers, I pushed it open and pulled her inside, slamming her back against the wall and lifting her leg so that I could press my hard-on into her core. I heard somebody clear their throat just before a voice I recognized well said, “Um, I’m sorry to interrupt you two, but yeah, this is awkward.”
Annie gasped in surprise, and I sagged against her.
Fucking. Hell.
/>
I sighed, my hands fisting in frustration, and clenched my jaw.
“Lucy,” I muttered under my breath. I took a moment to gather myself before I straightened and turned around to see my sister grinning and my mother wearing a small frown.
Sighing, I squeezed Annie’s shoulder and with no small amount of reluctance said, “I guess this is the perfect time for you to meet my family.”
Chapter Thirteen
The Fake Selfie: When one pretends to be taking a picture of oneself, but is instead actually taking a picture of a person in the background. This method differs from the “Creeper Selfie” in that none of the photographer’s face or expression is present in the picture.
Best for: Situations where taking a selfie wouldn’t be unusual/draw attention, e.g. while alone at a tourist attraction or during a sporting event/concert.
Do not use: In restaurants or near mirrors.
*Annie*
It was a banner week for me, a real doozy, a landmark of atypical Annie-isms.
First, I’d opened up to Ronan about my past, and, as much as I was able, I’d admitted to having feelings for him. I trusted him, or at least I was starting to.
Then I flirted with him via email; granted, it was as The Socialmedialite, and the lewd references all involved my fictional mermaid tattoo.
Of course, I couldn’t neglect to mention the sexting—or as close as I’d ever come to sexting—on Friday that got me so hot I’d had to go to the bathroom and run cool water over my wrists and place a wet paper towel on my neck.
Oh, yeah, and then there was introducing him as my boyfriend to my bossy and persistent neighbor; ambiguously giving in to Ronan’s demands about how I spent my time and with whom; the caveman dry-humping against the wall in my apartment; the orgasm in the dance club; and the make-out marathon in the taxi, in the elevator, in the hallway, and against the door of his apartment.
