“Please, baby,” I begged, willing him to stop this torment and take me.
“Turned on, are we?” he asked huskily, and I nodded in reply.
“I’ve been hard for hours, watching you walk around in that dress. I’ve had all night to plan how many times I’m going to take you, and in what position. But now that I have you nearly naked and all alone, I just want to bend you over and fuck you hard until I can remember my own name again.” His deep voice was thick with lust, and I was too turned on to reply.
“Open your legs baby.” I did as he asked, and with effortless strength that made me seem weightless, he lifted me up and wrapped my legs around him. I groaned as his cock pressed up against me.
“Fuck, I love that sound,” he told me. He set me down on the bed hard and ground against me in the best, most torturous way. Threading my hands into his hair, I pulled him toward me for a kiss. Nothing about it was gentle. His soft touch had now become a carnal hunger, and he kissed me like he wanted to devour me. The hard-sculpted muscles of his back flexed beneath my fingertips as I tried to press him closer. My skin was on fire, and I wanted him inside me so badly it hurt.
“Turn over,” I demanded, between kisses. I was impatient and ready to take control, and he seemed mildly amused at my efforts. O’Connell didn’t have a submissive bone in his body. If he didn’t have control, it was because he relinquished it freely. I pushed against his chest, knowing that I had no way of flipping him. His size made me feel delicate and tiny, and I knew that I was more likely to hurt myself than him, trying to put him on his back. Indulgently, he rolled over and lifted me to sit astride him. I moved my hands to the waistband of my panties.
“No,” he ordered. “I won’t last if you do. They are my last line of defence, and I don’t want tonight to end.”
I smiled, feeling the same way. Sitting over this loving, possessive, sculpted, gorgeous man, I was overwhelmed that he was mine. I didn’t question why he’d chosen me, or how long it would be before he tired of us. At that moment, I saw myself as he saw me, and I was empowered. I felt sexy and emboldened, and I realised that O’Connell hadn’t given me this power. It was mine all along. What Frank had done was horrific and for the longest time I lost myself. But this was who I was, and O’Connell loved me for it. Was I sexy because I was confident, or was I confident because I was sexy? I didn’t know. But knowing that his body, his release was mine to control, excited me.
“Tonight ended hours ago. Today is the first day of the rest of our lives.”
I leaned forward, allowing my bare breasts to graze his chest, kissing and nibbling a torturous path from one nipple to the next. He breathed hard but didn’t try to stop me. Rolling my pelvis, I sat up and leaned back against his cock. I pulled pin after pin out of my hair until it cascaded down my shoulders.
“Do you have any fucking idea how beautiful you look right now?” he asked me.
He reached up to rub my nipples with the pads of his thumbs, but his touch was fleeting as I pulled away to ease myself down his body, kissing a painfully slow path down his washboard abdominals. He groaned when my breasts brushed against his rock hard erection and closed his eyes when my warm breath blew across him. I licked my way along the length of his cock and took him deep into my mouth.
“Jesus,” he whispered, as his hips lifted off the bed.
He ran his fingers through my hair but didn’t force my head down, or make me feel uncomfortable. If it was possible, he grew even harder as he moved closer and closer to orgasm, but his stamina wasn’t limitless.
“Come here, baby,” he urged. I complied, crawling up his body to wrap my tongue around his hungrily.
He slid my panties down my legs and tossed them aside. Moving me beneath him, he slid inside me, all the way to the hilt. Holding each of my hands in his own, our fingers intertwined, he stopped to look me deep in the eyes.
“I love you, sunshine. Forever,” he whispered.
“And I love you,” I answered, contentedly.
I closed my eyes as he moved inside me and trapped my bottom lip between his teeth. Our slow, gentle rhythm quickly became frantic, but I wanted him harder and faster. As though he heard my silent wish, he complied, pounding into me relentlessly. I was so close that I held my breath, feeling the tremors work their way through my body at the edge of my orgasm. I lifted my hips to meet O’Connell thrust for thrust, and when he unexpectedly leant down to take my nipple in his hot, wet mouth, I was there. With my husband deep inside me, I came hard, exploding into a million pieces before falling back down to earth. His body tensed, and he gave a hoarse shout as I took O’Connell with me over the edge. It was beautiful and perfect and the best end to our wedding. He collapsed on top of me, and I welcomed the familiar weight of his body against mine.
“I don’t want to go to sleep in case I wake up and this was all a dream.”
“And what would you do if it was?” I smiled.
“Fuck something up until I found you and made you do it all over again for real,” he admitted.
“Sleep, O’Connell. I’ll still be here when you wake up.”
I never got an answer. He was fast asleep on my chest, and moments later, I was, too.
I GOT OUT OF THE SHOWER the next morning to find O’Connell wearing nothing but tight black boxer briefs and a frilly blue apron, cooking a fried breakfast and singing off-key to the radio. He looked effortlessly sexy, but it was the look of pure joy and happiness on his face that made my heart ache. Leaving him to it, I threw on some underwear, leggings, and one of his oversized hooded sweaters and joined him as he set down our breakfasts.
“I could get used to this.” I grinned.
“Sunshine, fuck me every day like you did last night, and I’m at your beck and call.”
I choked on my bacon as I registered what he’d said, and he laughed as he slapped my back, helping me cough it back up again.
“Maybe you’ve had enough meat in your mouth for one day. I don’t want you to choke on it.”
“Very funny,” I said sarcastically. “But try not to say stuff like that when I’m eating. You almost became a widower less than twenty-four hours after becoming a groom.”
He frowned, not liking that idea at all.
“Sorry, love. It’s so easy to make you blush, I can’t help myself.”
We polished off breakfast, and I reached for our box of wedding cards as I sipped my
tea. The radio was still playing Christmas songs in the background. The flat was deliciously warm and sitting here with O’Connell felt so domestic and intimate that I wanted to cry with happiness that this was my life now. I wasn’t alone anymore and neither was he.
“What you doin’, sunshine?” he asked, licking the last of the bacon off his fingers.
“I was just going to read our wedding cards.”
We both picked up a handful of cards and started ploughing through them. As I opened the first one, a pile of notes fell out, and I counted up thirty pounds.
“There’s money in here!” I exclaimed, shocked.
O’Connell didn’t seem at all surprised. If he knew that some people had given us money, why was he so casual about leaving the box of cards lying around at the reception?
“A few people asked me what we wanted for a wedding present, and I couldn’t think of anything so I just said money.”
We worked our way through the huge pile, and by the time we got to the bottom, we had over fifteen hundred pounds.
“I can’t believe people have been so generous.”
“They just wanted us to have a good start,” he told me, looking more than a little stunned himself. This was more money than I’d ever had in my life, and my first thought was that we needed to get it to the bank, quick.
“Can we put it with the money I have left from the car toward a deposit on buying our own place?” he asked.
“It will be a while before we’ll qualify for a mortgage,” I warned him.
“I know. But at least we’ll ha
ve a deposit saved when we do. I just like the idea of having a home that’s ours, not someplace that we rent. I learned a lot working in construction. Maybe we can get somewhere rundown for a good price and me and the boys can fix it up between fights.”
He had that little boy lost look about him again, the one that just wanted his own home and family. I climbed onto his lap and wrapped my arms around his neck.
“That sounds like a fantastic idea. How about we go down to the bank tomorrow and open up a joint account. Maybe they can give us some advice about setting up a savings account to put the money into.”
He looked at me with his eyes at half-mast, and I knew exactly how we’d be spending the rest of Boxing Day.
“I fucking love you getting domestic, and I especially love it when you start talking numbers.”
“You fucking love everything about me,” I teased, knowing that he and the boys swore more than anyone that I had ever met.
“Well, I’m only gonna have one life, so I might as well spend it with someone I love everything about.”
With his lightning fast reflexes, he lifted me up and laid me down so that I was underneath him. Using his nose to push up my sweater, he held one hand on my arse and ran the other up and down my leg.
“Now, let me tell you why for the next few days, all knickers are surplus to requirements,” he explained, and being as totally hot for my husband that I was, I didn’t wear any underwear for the next forty-eight hours.
“I CAN’T BELIEVE I WENT into a bank without underwear,” I complained, knowing that my cheeks were bright red.
I was back in my office catching up on Danny’s paperwork, and O’Connell was leaning over the desk behind me and nuzzling my neck.
“You were soaked by the time we got home. I reckon it was all that talk of numbers and interest rates turning you on. It’s not the last time you’re doing that, either. Only next time, I’m going to tell you all the way home exactly what I’m going to do to that gorgeous body of yours. If you’re lucky, and I’m feeling patient, I’ll drop your jeans, knowing there’s nothing there to stop me, and I’ll take you from behind.”
His deep voice purred seductively in my ear, and I squirmed in my seat, feeling desperate and aroused. I wondered how it was possible for my body to develop this Pavlov’s dog’s reaction to his voice so quickly. He went back to his nuzzling, knowing full well that I was seconds away from turning around and jumping him, when the door banged open.
“Jesus Christ, are you two still at it? I thought you were supposed to stop having sex when you got hitched.”
“Nope,” said O’Connell, with a grin.
It was the grin I don’t think had left his face since our wedding day. Tommy rolled his eyes and sat in the chair opposite.
“So, have you realised yet what a loser you married? ‘Cause I’m still single.”
“Careful,” O’Connell warned, all traces of humour gone.
O’Connell loved Tommy like a brother, but Tommy did have an uncanny ability to push his buttons. I rolled my eyes at the both of them.
“You stay single, Tommy. It’s not fair to the female population to give all of yourself to just one woman. I’m happy enough sticking with the love of my life,” I told him, which made Tommy huff and O’Connell grin.
He wasn’t wrong before, when he warned me he’d need reassurance. We both did from time to time. But that was the joy of being in love. It was no effort to give that reassurance to each another.
“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. O, and to you, fucktard.”
Kieran greeted O’Connell and me, and finally Tommy.
“You’re in a good mood this morning. Get laid at my wedding, did we?” O’Connell teased.
“As it happens, no I didn’t. But it’s only a matter of time, my friend.” Kieran grinned, and I presumed he was referring to Marie.
“That was an arsehole move at the bar when I was chatting her up. You know that, right?” grumbled Tommy.
Kieran laughed, obviously happy that he’d been successful in prying Tommy away from Marie.
“Listen,” explained Kieran, with his hands up in surrender. “It had absolutely nothing to do with my awesome chat up lines. One look at you dancing to ‘Sex Bomb’ and belting out Tom Jones, and she was dust.”
“What-the-fuck-ever,” grumbled Tommy.
“I do an awesome Tom Jones,” he told me under his breath.
One by one, all of the boys filed into the office. O’Connell stopped kissing my neck but was never very far away from me. They were all shooting the breeze about what they’d been up to over Christmas. Danny went to stay with his sister for a couple of days, and the gym had been closed, so most of the boys were now itching to get back into training. Danny shuffled in as he clocked who was here and who wasn’t. His customary cigarette was hanging out of his mouth, and I frowned, wondering how much of a toll this chain smoking was taking on his health. He poured himself a cup of coffee then looked at Tommy sitting in his chair. When Tommy failed to take the hint, Danny barked, “Move,” and Tommy jumped a mile. Settling himself down, he took a puff of his cigarette, then put it out and addressed the boys.
“Right, lads, we have ourselves a dilemma,” he told us.
“In two weeks, Con is fighting Roberto Calvari. It’s a good fight with a good payday. I set it up because Calvari is a solid fighter. Con won’t just be a stepping stone. If he beats Calvari, he’ll be in the spotlight for fights leading to title contention.”
“What’s wrong? Calvari hasn’t pulled out has he?” asked Kieran, seriously.
“Quite the opposite, boyo. Quite the opposite. He’s as up for it as ever. And there’s no doubt about it, it’s a big fight and a big opportunity for Con and the gym.”
“So, what’s the problem?” asked O’Connell, impatient to know what Danny was leading up to.
“Felix Ramos has offered you a title fight.”
“Holy shit,” whispered Tommy.
I looked around at all the lads who were stunned and slightly awed.
“Who’s Felix Ramos?” I asked.
“It was a few years ago,” explained O’Connell, “but he was World Heavyweight Champion. He’s won a few fights and lost a few fights since then, and it’s a much smaller title, but it would be the biggest fight of my career, by far.”
“So, what’s the catch?” asked Kieran, who went straight to the point.
“This time Con is a stepping stone. Ramos’ career is on the decline, and he wants to fight an up-and-comer. He underestimates Con, and I think it’ll be a barnburner, but he’s rigged it. If we turn it down, we won’t get offered another fight again.”
“How’s he rigged it?” Mac asked.
“Well, there’s the rub,” replied Danny. “It’s in six weeks’ time.”
“Fuck!” pretty much all of them muttered.
“How is that possible?” I asked.
“That’s how he’s rigged it, sunshine. It’s long enough between fights for surface bruises to heal. On the outside, I’ll look fight ready, but my body won’t have fully recovered from the last fight,” O’Connell explained.
He looked as grim and thoughtful as the rest of the room.
“So what are you going to do?” I asked.
I HAD JUST PLATED UP A SMALL mountain-sized portion of pasta when O’Connell got on my last nerve. Walking over to him, I put both hands on his chest.
“Baby, stop,” I told him.
He’d been training relentlessly since the meeting this morning, and after the few days we had off together, one day of hardcore training wasn’t nearly enough to calm the torrent raging inside him. Since he’d come home half an hour ago, he’d dumped his training bag and jumped into the shower. He’d then spent the last ten minutes pacing the length of our tiny apartment.
“What do you think I should do, Em?” he asked me.
“I think you should sit down and eat your dinner. Then we’re going to climb into bed and talk about it.”
He nod
ded his head and relaxed his shoulders. After a long day of questioning whether or not to take the fight, he seemed relieved to have someone take a decision out of his hands, even if it was a minor one. An hour later, after he’d wolfed down his meal and we’d washed the dishes side by side in the tiny little kitchenette, I laid on his chest as he ran his fingers absentmindedly through my hair. At least now, he seemed calmer and a little more centred.
“What does Danny think?” I asked him.
“I had a word with him after the boys left. He thinks I can do it; he just wants me to change my game plan. Instead of wearing Calvari down, he wants me to go for the knockout. Calvari’s had losses before, but he’s never been knocked out. It’s a big gamble. If I go at him all guns blazing and I don’t knock him out, I might not have enough left in the tank for a win at all. But if I do, then I’ll be in much better shape for the second fight.”
“What does Kier think?” I asked him, knowing that he valued Kieran’s opinion almost as much as Danny’s.
“He doesn’t want me to take the Ramos fight. He thinks that the purse and the exposure aren’t worth the risk of me losing the fight and fucking up my stats. It would probably make more sense for me to cancel the Calvari fight, but I’m under contract. Even if I could get out of it, I’d get a bad rep if I tried to pull from the fight last-minute.”
“What do YOU want to do?” I asked.
“Honestly? I want a crack at them both. I’ve seen them fight, and I think I can do it, too.”
“Then take both fights. Train like you’ve never trained before and take both fights.”
“You don’t mind? We’re only just married, and I’d be training every waking hour of the day. We’ll barely see each other.”
The Hurricane Page 27
