Kiss Me, I'm Irish

by Barri Bryan

  For all its sweetness, it was not a kiss of passion but one of affirmation. It lasted for several wonderful seconds before Margaret finally broke the embrace and leaning back stared up into his face. Her look was questioning. “Why did you come back to Summerville, Connal?"

  Why indeed? Connal squelched a flippant answer and sat several seconds staring into space before saying, “I was homesick."

  Margaret laid her head against his chest. “Is this where I'm supposed to ask why?"

  Connal smiled tenderly, “Only if you really want to know."

  Margaret surprised him by saying, “I do."

  Connal sighed. “I thought that here I might find something I lost a long time ago and can't seem to locate anywhere else."

  "Like some knight of old you're on a quest?” Margaret joked. On a more serious note she added, “But you have everything—money, fame, public adulation."

  Connal admitted to Margaret what, until now, he had been careful not to acknowledge to himself. “None of those material assets matters in the grander scheme of things.” The dam he's constructed through the years cracked ever so slightly. “If I didn't know that before now, I realized it when I watched Flynn and Felicia today."

  Margaret's eyes widened. “I've never known you to be so serious."

  Connal had told Felicia to speak her heart, to be honest with the man she loved. Maybe he should take his own advice. There was one thing he had to know before he took that frightening leap of faith. “Then you do believe that I'm serious?"

  Margaret's brow wrinkled. “I suppose so."

  "I don't want supposes.” Connal drew a ragged sigh. “I want you to know that I mean what I'm about to say to you.” He literally held his breath as he waited.

  It seemed an eternity before Margaret said, “I know, don't ask how I know but I know."

  That convoluted sentence gave Connal courage and a measure of hope. He let go of a few more of his lingering doubts. Tilting her chin, he looked directly into her eyes. “I want another chance with you. I want.... “He stopped, not daring to say more.

  "A chance to what?” Margaret swallowed. “In three months you'll be back in LA."

  So she was afraid he would leave her again. He could understand that. He wouldn't if she gave him even a glimmer of hope that there was some future for him here with her. “I may not go back to LA."

  Margaret asked, “But what about your career?"

  "That career doesn't mean a lot to me. It never has."

  Margaret was clearly skeptical “What does that second chance include?” Her brow wrinkled, “Besides the obvious."

  Did she think that all he wanted from her was sex? It wasn't. “We can explore any and all possibilities.” He must be careful not to move too fast. “We can take our time, move slowly and get to know each other all over again."

  Margaret swallowed before saying, “Things are different now. I'm a widower and you're a divorcee twice over. We can't go back and be those starry-eyed lovers we once were."

  Connal agreed, “We've both changed and circumstances are different.” Pulling her very near, he caressed her intimately. “But the one thing that will always be there is this.” His mouth swooped to cover hers. His tongue inside her mouth was sweet pain. Then his lips left hers and blazed a slow tantalizing trail across her cheek and onto her throat.

  Time receded. He was nineteen again and caught in the mesmerizing throes of first love. How simple and sweet it had been, how innocent and devoid of reflection and effort. A shudder of delicate, delightful passion shook through him. As he raised his head, he moaned, “Maggie, Maggie, make love to me."

  Margaret's lashes fell and her body swayed a little closer. “Connal...?” She lifted her face and her eyes met his with a kindling gaze that conveyed a seductive mixture of uncertainty and desire. The she spoke the same words she'd said to him the first time they'd made love. “Are you sure you want to do this?"

  Standing he swept her into his arms. “I was never surer of anything."

  He instinctively made his way down the hall and into her bedroom. Standing her on her feet he framed her face with his hands. “You are even more beautiful now than you were the first time we made love.” He kissed her passionately before saying, “I remember how sweet and how daring you were."

  Margaret laughed seductively. “I remember too, how shy you were and how nervous. I don't think that's the case anymore.” She put her arms around his waist and laying her head against his chest whispered, “Connal, there's something I need to tell you."

  His mouth moved hungrily over her lips stopping her words and erasing her last remnant of resistance. Anticipation and desire climbed inside him as he followed passion's impulse and began to undress her. How tenderly his hands moved to dispose of her clothing and caress her body. She was all he'd remembered and more. Maturity had brought ripeness to her figure and charm and poise to her grace of moment.

  Once again Connal Cassidy was totally captivated. When Margaret was at last bare and standing before him she radiated desire and glowed with anticipation. He laid her on the bed and began to shed his own clothing.

  Margaret sat up and extended her arms. “I could help you."

  Connal shook his head. “This time it's my turn, lie down and enjoy."

  She obeyed and then watched him with bright hungry eyes as he slowly ridded himself of his clothing. When he sat on the side of the bed and began to take off his shoes and socks she whispered, “My God you are so beautiful and so hard."

  Hard was an understatement. Connal was afire with a heat that burned without consuming. He fought to hold on to his control. That was not an easy task with Margaret stretched out nude on the bed and looking up at him with passion sparking the green of her eyes. He lay down beside her and took her into his arms, reminding himself as he did so that he should be tender and gentle.

  She quivered at his touch. That response sent the liquid fire shooting through his veins and a rigor of desire shaking through his body. His hands slid along her stomach past her thighs and came to rest on the soft moist button that nestled in the patch of dark hair between her legs.

  Margaret moves sensuously as she grasped his hot, slick, rock hard penis in her hand. She caressed it gently and then began to move her hand up and down. Against his throat she whispered, “I love touching you this way."

  Connal was riding the waves of a sea of erotic bliss. He was poised to crawl astride Margaret's quivering body when she whispered, “Connal, please I have to tell you...."

  "Later my darling, tell me later.” He covered her lips with his seeking mouth stopping her flow of words. It was a kiss that said he would not be denied. Climbing atop her nude body he parted her legs with his knee and drove his penis deep into her pulsating vagina. The world around him faded. All that remained was a magnificent passion that was lost itself in the magical union of escalating sexual fulfillment.

  Chapter Nine

  Margaret's last thought before she was caught in the rhythmic contractions of a devastating orgasm was, this was too much too soon. Then wave after wave of ecstasy washed over, lifting her higher and higher until the world exploded in a shower of lights as a seizure of enthralled fulfillment took command of her senses.

  Afterward she closed her eyes and floated downward on a cloud of sated happiness. She had never before felt so complete and so at peace with the world. Opening her eyes she smiled to see Connal's proud head resting on her breast. He looked away as he pulled his flaccid penis from her moist cavity and turned on his back to stare at the ceiling. After a long stretch of uncertain silence he turned to face her. His expression was unreadable. “Maggie, I...."

  Margaret stirred restlessly under his steady gaze. Was he sorry now for words he'd spoken earlier? Sitting up, she pulled the sheet to cover her breasts. “It's all right."

  Connal shook his head. “No, it's not all right. I took advantage of you and after I promised we'd take it slow and easy. I'm sorry Maggie love."

  It was n
ot all his fault. She had been a most willing participant. On second thought maybe neither of them was at fault. That old sexual attraction that had always existed between them had flared again—this time hotter and more intense than ever before. It seemed foolish to place blame because neither of them had been able to subdue it. “Don't apologize."

  Connal stretched. The muscles in his arms and shoulders rippled. “You're not angry?"

  At this point in time Margaret didn't know what she was. She was beginning to wonder who she was, “Certainly not."

  A lock of golden hair fell across Connal's forehead. “And you're not disappointed?"

  Margaret laughed, “Most definitely not.” When he chose Connal could be one charming son-of-a-gun.

  "And you still believe I'm serious about us?"

  On that issue Margaret did have doubts. It was at that moment that she made a conscious, and she would realize later a foolish, decision. She would enjoy this brief interlude with Connal and when he went away again, she would simply go on with her life. After all it wasn't like she was going to be stupid enough to fall in love with him again. “Of course I do."

  "Then we can—” The ringing of Connal's cell phone interrupted him. Swearing under his breath he got out of bed found his coat and fished around in the pockets until he found the clanging instrument. Opening it he pressed one end to his ear, “Yeah, what?"

  As he spoke he perched on the side of the bed. After a few moments he said, “Jan honey, I'm sorry."

  A stab of something suspiciously near jealously pierced Margaret. She slid from the bed and found her bra. Jan was Connal's first wife's name. They had been divorced for twelve years. Why would she be calling him?

  Connal grimaced. “I'm sorry she keeps bothering you.” After another pause, “I suppose I'll have to."

  As Margaret fastened her bra and slipped her legs into her panties she wondered if there was anything more annoying than listening to one side of a telephone conversation.

  Connal slapped the side of his leg and hooted, “I don't believe it, congratulations."

  Margaret wriggled into her dress and sat on the side of the bed. Where the hell were her shoes?

  After a long spate of silence, Connal said, “Tell Ben hello and congratulations. He will make a wonderful father.” Closing the phone he laid it on the bed and shifted to face Margaret. “Where were we? Oh yes...."

  Margaret interrupted to ask a little too casually, “Who was that?"

  Connal shrugged, “Oh that, it was Jan."

  Margaret felt under the bed for her shoes. “Jan Dixon, your first wife?” She straightened to stare at him. Before she could stop them the words were out. “Why is she calling you?"

  Connal didn't seem the least upset by Jan's call or by Margaret's questions. “Ben's upset because Tanya keeps calling and annoying Jan."

  Margaret recognized the name Tanya also. She happened to be Connal's second wife and what a beauty she was. Margaret thought of asking who the hell Ben was and then decided she didn't want to know. “Your second wife is bugging your first wife?” That seemed a bizarre situation. “And then your first wife calls you to complain?” Like something straight out of Connal's soap opera. “What is going on between you and these two women?” Before the words were out of her mouth she repented of having spoken them. “Never mind I don't want to know.” She was nagging like a jealous wife herself. “It's none of my business."

  Connal made no effort to get out of bed. Instead he slipped a pillow under his shoulders and put his hands behind his head. “I'll have to call Tanya and tell her to back off.” Shifting he leaned against the head of the bed. “Not that it's going to do a lot of good but with Jan pregnant and Ben worried, I have to at least make an honest effort.” Extending his arms he had the audacity to say, “Come back to bed with me, Maggie love."

  Those provocative words stirred Margaret's indignation even as they sent a shiver of sweet desire down her spine. “I don't ... Connal really.” She should be outraged by his cavalier attitude. But as always the magical pull of that magnetic sexual attraction took precedence over every sane thought. “I'm dressed,” she argued weakly.

  He scooted across the bed and sat beside her. “I can remedy that.” His deft fingers pulled her dress over her head. As he tossed it aside he clasped her to him and kissed her long and lingeringly as he undid her bra. “Don't deny me, Maggie."

  As if she could. Her need for him was an obsession that fed on itself. The more she made love to him the more she needed him, the more she needed him the more she lost was to all reason. She raised her hips as he slid her panties down over her legs.

  Her breath seemed trapped in her throat. As she kicked her panties aside, she whispered, “Now Connal, take me now."

  Those tortured words were all the encouragement he needed. Pulling her under him he rammed into her with dynamic force.

  The tenderness that had marked their first encounter was sadly lacking in this stormy coming together. This was a tempestuous explosion of raw sexual need. They coupled and rolled on the bed, clawing, biting, and struggling in a fiery episode of sensual animal rutting.

  It was a furious frenzy that escalated and climbed until it reached a fiery sensual explosion. The very air around them detonated into a million sparks of inflamed force.

  Margaret felt Connal explode inside her with the force of a bomb as she went spinning into some erotic world of blossoming ecstasy. He mind disconnected from her body as she soared to exhilarating heights of rapture.

  How long she was suspended in a haze of ravishing radiance she didn't know. As she came back to reality, Connal rolled over pulling her with him. His breath still came in gasps and he was wet with a silvery perspiration. While they were still connected, he kissed her tenderly. “Maggie love, welcome home."

  Sweet thoughts of love filled her head. Margaret stopped them. No more believing in forever or hoping for the impossible. She pulled from his embrace and tried to think of something, anything that would drag her mind from Connal and his magic touch. Inanely she asked, “What time is it?"

  Rolling over Connal sat on the side of the bed. “It's time you and I began to make some plans."

  Margaret yawned. That was the one thing she must not do. Looking at the clock on the nightstand she exclaimed, “It's five fifteen. Get dressed. We have to get out of here. Todd will be home around six."

  Connal didn't object. He didn't hurry either. It was almost five thirty before Margaret managed to get him out of the bedroom and safely sitting on the couch in the living room. She dropped down beside him. It was time they got a few things straight. She was searching for a way to frame what must be said when his cell phone rang insistently. Margaret gritted her teeth as he found it and pressed it to his ear. “What's up?"

  The ensuing hush was ominous. After a spate of nerve bending silence he said, “I'll be right there.” Shoving the phone into his pocket, he announced, “That was Mother on the phone. C.J.'s had a heart attack. They're in the hospital emergency room. I have to go."

  Suddenly Margaret remembered how earlier Felicia had gone tearing off in his car. “Take my Buick. It's parked in the drive."

  Connal was on his feet and shoving his arms into his jacket. “The keys, where are the keys?"

  Margaret pointed to the spilled contents of her handbag. “Over there."

  As Connal stooped to pick up the keys his hand brushed the CD that C.J had given her. He scooped the keys into one hand and picked up the CD with the other. Turning it over, he asked, “Where did this come from?"

  Margaret sprinted across the floor. “Let me have that."

  Connal was looking more puzzled by the minute. “This is C.J.'s handwriting."

  Margaret snatched the CD from his hand. “Get to the hospital. Your mother needs you."

  Connal raced for the door. “You're right. We can talk later.” He was through the opening and across the porch before Margaret could reply.

  She sat back on the couch and dropped her
head into her hands. What a fine mess she had made of everything. With a sigh of stoic acceptance she lifted her head as she decided that what was done couldn't be undone—but where did she go from here? Sighing she leaned her head against the couch and stared into space. Damned if she knew. She was still sitting and looking without seeing some ten minutes later when Todd came through the door.

  He tossed his back pack onto a chair and dropped down beside her. “You look beat."

  Margaret pressed her fingers to her temples. “I had a headache.” She thought with a touch of irony that she was probably also headed for a heartache.

  "Is it better now?” Todd's eyes scanned the room. “Where's Felicia?” Before Margaret could answer, he fired another question. “Where's your car?"

  Margaret stood and walked toward the kitchen. “It's a long story. Come along. “I'll explain as I make dinner."

  Todd followed her, scratching his head and looking confused as he went.

  Margaret bustled about the kitchen opening a can of soup and making Todd a sandwich. As she worked she told him of the afternoon's events, omitting, of course, her sexual encounters with Connal.

  Todd put plates, bowls and spoons on the table as he listened, stopping her every now and then to comment or ask a question.

  When she had completed her rather rambling, sometimes disjointed narrative Margaret put the food on the table and motioned for Todd to sit down. “Eat and you'll feel better."

  Todd responded with typical teenage honesty, “I feel okay now.” Then he asked, “Aren't you going to eat?"

  Margaret sat across from him. “I'm not hungry."

  Todd took a bite of sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. “Are you worried about Felicia?"

  Margaret was ashamed to admit that she'd scarcely thought of Felicia since her step daughter had left the house some hours earlier. “Do you think I should be?"