She screamed. She clawed. He matched her need, her hunger with his own animal self. He matched her hungry soul like he'd never done before. He came into her as a grown man with a grown man's feral hunger. While she, a grown woman, matched him stroke for stroke and wanted more. No fear, no shame, only honesty and an unrelenting need.
Together, they shattered into a glorious euphoria.
Later, Kelly snuggled against Joey's sweat-dappled body, while their combined panting settled into a relaxed rhythm. Her head nestled on his brawny shoulder. His arm wrapped her, his palm rested on her hip and his thumb eased across her skin in an idle caress.
Joey's magnificent body lay out on her bed like a smorgasbord of erotic treasures, all lean muscles and fit, tanned skin. Fifteen years had passed, along with explorations with other sexual partners, but he remained the best.
Screaming orgasms, dizzying rapture, toe-curling excitements... Those delights, as well as many others, were there for Joey to wield on command. And he commanded them, over and over and over.
A master magician of sensuality, yes, but who was he now?
"Tell me about your kids," she murmured.
"My unexpected arrivals?"
The phrase didn't negate the warmth in his voice. She heard the affection in his tone and smiled.
"Weren't you and your wife ready for kids? Or did the stork deliver twins? Or was it both?"
"Unmarried both times, as well as unwisely not protected," he admitted. "However, they're mine and I support them and, when necessary, their mothers."
Oops, just like what might happen...
"Oh, well, good," she said, somewhat at a loss as for what to say.
"Aye," he answered, then expounded. "My son, Cormac Dempsey, is twelve, and my daughter, Roisin MacAuliffe, is ten. Darlings, both of them. The lights of my heart. They gave me a reason for living when I didn't really want to."
She choked from his matter-of-fact statement. "You what?"
"They came during a rough time in my life, one where I practiced self-destructive choices without any real desire to wake up the next morning. These two special gifts from God brought me out of that ugly place."
"Thank God," she whispered.
Her mind cringed away from the disclosure of his unhappiness. She'd known pain like that. Correction, she knew pain like that.
"Indeed." He nodded, then shifted on the bed. Her head rode the swell of his shoulder as he adjusted himself on the pillows.
"I hadn't thought I'd want or like children," he continued, "but the two imps are a delight. Was a bit difficult explaining to Da about them, though. He'd always expected to meet the mother and dance at the wedding before I showed him a swaddled grandchild. Not to mention having it happen twice."
She tried not to ask, since he'd all but said it, but in the end, she needed to know.
"No wedding?"
"I didn't love either woman the way a man needs to love his wife." His thumb returned to stroking the skin across her hipbone. "The ladies are special to me, of course, but as the mothers of my children and nothing more. My family invites them to holidays and vacations and such. Sometimes they show, too, bringing along husbands and children of those marriages."
Her heart warmed at the image he painted. Big family gatherings full of love and laughter... She'd held to that dream for most of her life.
"Sounds wonderful." She heard the wistfulness in her sigh. "Lots of people to feed."
"We can afford it." He shrugged. "Also, Da and Ma continue the ritual of dishing out piles of food for the struggling in our community at our local kirk every Sunday. No mouth is unfed, even if they arrive from other parsonages.
"On holidays, along with the public meals, Ma insists every head of household takes home a care package. It's become a ritual celebration at our home, with our guests and children pitching in to held the needy. It's become a glorious event. For everyone."
"Sounds wonderful."
During Stewart's last years, turkey dinners from the local food bank had been her holiday cheer. She'd learned how to make that bird stretch far. By the time she was through with it, usually after about a week, not a sliver of meat remained on the carcass. All other days, however, no one seemed to give a fig that people were hungry and desperate. Contrary to popular perception, those food cards were not easily gained, but the suspension of benefits was.
Throw-aways. That was the opinion of America's needful as far as the plutocracy was concerned. Unwanted people, beggars daring to appeal for food, health, and housing. The middle class had become poor and unimportant--unless entitlement babies had a position open for a nanny, chauffeur or housekeeper, gardener or pool girl at one of their six houses in the Hamptons.
What had one of those privileged spawn spat at Stewart when her husband's state-supplied disability transport had inconvenienced him by utilizing the handicapped parking and ended up too close to his shiny new SUV? "Just hurry up and die, old man. You're draining the pool for a losing case. It's not like you're gonna get any better."
Ashamed, broken, Stewart had folded down into himself and refused to eat again. Two weeks later he was gone. She swallowed hard. The rage still burned. Joey looked down at her, his steady gaze interrupting remembered injustices.
"Kelly, I'm telling you this because if something happens from our moment of delicious madness"--he gave the words a sexy emphasis--"and if you choose to keep and raise the special gift from God, you will not do so alone. The entire O'Connor family will be with you. I," he stressed, "will be right there beside you."
Not a vow of eternal love, but it was good enough for this moment.
"Oh, Joey..." She touched his face and blinked away welling tears.
He grabbed another condom from the bedside table and rolled her beneath him again.
* * * *
Later, her legs and arms quivering, she scooted to the edge of the bed and swung her feet to the floor. He located and caught up her discarded sweater from the floor and tugged it over her head. Not outside appropriate, she admitted, but it would do for the moment.
Conscious of Joey's gaze on her, she moved to the chest of drawers and pulled out a fresh pair of panties and a bra, as well as a jogging suit, which was Portland's idea of house clothing.
Stretched out on the bed, the rumpled sheet tossed across his hip and one thigh, Joey made a fascinating picture in her bed. The sheet did nothing to conceal the rampant shaft that tented the cotton between his legs. When he caught her looking at it, he gave her a satyr-like grin.
Heat flooded her veins. Her legs threatened to deposit her back onto the bed...or the floor...wherever was most convenient. Get a grip, chick!
"I've some homework I need to do. So, I guess playtime is done for the day." She clenched the clothing she carried with desperate hands.
"Uh-huh."
She inched her way to the bedroom door on reluctant feet, all the while striving to appear calm, a woman of this age--comfortable with her sexuality and in control.
"I'm gonna take a shower. You know where the kitchen is. We never did get to the take-home food." The wobble in her voice betrayed her attempted cool exterior.
"We were preoccupied." He lifted one shoulder in a negligent shrug that did fascinating things with the muscles there.
He watched her retreat. Amusement and heat filled his darkly intent gaze. She had a feeling his preoccupation continued. Her pulse leapt with returned interest. She blushed harder.
"Feel free to forage for breakfast. I shouldn't be long. I'll be right out. Coffee is in there. Or do you take tea? I have some of that, too. Make yourself at home." She bit her tongue to still its nonsensical chatter.
"Sure."
He yawned and stretched. She gaped--such a gorgeous man! In her bed!--and scurried into the bathroom before the urge to rejoin him beneath the sheets became impossible to resist. She did have homework. She did!
His laughter followed her down the hall.
She blocked out the rich, alluring sound
with a slam of the bathroom door and energetic twists of the shower knob. The water rained into the tub. She deposited her clothing on the counter, then she ran a toothbrush against her teeth and a comb through her sex-rumpled hair.
After that, she tugged off the hoodie--it smelled like sex and Joey--and dove under the still-cold spray of water. Clenching her teeth and wrapping herself in her arms, she waited for the chilly jet of liquid to quench the fire in her blood.
Her mind spun with memories and recriminations. My God! What have I done? Irresponsible! The negative tapes played over and over, twisting through her heart, until the soft, quiet voice of the lonely child who lived locked away in her soul whispered: But it was good. I liked it.
The water warmed her skin, but the truth warmed her soul.
Yes, she'd liked it and, hell's bells, it had been better than good. She'd missed having a man at arm's length and for more than the ability to open a stubborn jars of pickles. Masculine energy simply couldn't be imitated. It was unique. Matchless. Irreplaceable.
Cold air wafted into the shower as the bathroom door opened and closed. A shadow on the shower curtain showed a silhouette of a large male...peeing. The toilet's flush caused the shower to run cold again.
She squeaked, dodged the spray, and tilted the showerhead to the side, annoyed. The water continued its cold rain since he'd cranked on the faucet. Now came the sound of Joey brushing his teeth.
Pebbled skin, chill-tightened nipples, a man making himself home in the bathroom she used. That she hadn't missed. But it was Joey.
Feeling safe enough to do so, she made a grumpy complaint. "You could've warned me."
He spat into the sink and turned off the faucet. "Sorry."
He tugged aside the shower curtain, stepped into the utility shower-and-bathtub unit, and pulled her against him. His warm body and strong, capable hands eased the chill.
He found the washcloth and the shower gel and went to work caressing it across her body, easing the long-unused muscles and filling her awareness with the pleasant energy of affection.
Okay, this she could get used to.
Chapter 10
* * *
She left Joey to finish his shower alone. Serves him right, thought Kelly, because of that running-the-water-so-the-shower-went-cold thing. She donned the clothing she'd stacked on the counter and exited. Steam billowed out the door and the temperature lowered substantially. She made sure of it.
Joey squawked.
Giggling, she closed the bathroom door and headed to the kitchen to the sounds of Joey in the shower.
She filled the machine with the pricey coffee blend she splurged on once a month. The fresh ground scent wafted from the metal canister, and she inhaled blissfully. Some things were worth the price of purchase, she thought, simply because of the way they made a difficult life more endurable. Good coffee was one of those things.
She thumbed on the machine, returned the canister to the cupboard, and leaned out of the kitchen to reflect on the pile of belongings behind the front door. The plastic bag of manly supplies bought from the corner Qwik Mart was missing.
The bathroom caddie rattled as he used the shampoo. The spray of water became syncopated as his movements disturbed the stream. He'd probably retrieved the bag and brought it with him when he'd joined her in the bathroom. Or he'd taken it to the bathroom earlier, while she'd been asleep. Which explained the taste of mint toothpaste in his mouth, instead of the morning breath she'd shared during their hot kisses.
"Oh, uggh, how sexy." Except, yeah, it'd been incredibly sexy.
Well, except for her morning breath thing...but he hadn't seemed to mind.
She spotted her jacket and backpack still at the front door and plucked them up, then carried them to their usual spot. Hanging off the back of a dining table chair. The items were still a bit damp from the yesterday evening's rain and a night on the carpet. Nothing new there. It rained a lot in Portland during spring. Seriously, a lot of rain. But now hanging off the chair back, they would dry out soon enough.
Her tummy rumbled, reminding her that they'd never gotten to the food. May as well kill two birds with one stone. Heat up the food and the oven's heat would dry her stuff before the ubiquitous Portland mold took root.
Good plan.
She switched on the oven, retrieved the food cartons from the fridge, dumped the contents into glass pie pans, and shoved them both into the oven. She set the oven timer for thirty minutes and stepped over to the coffee pot. She found a mug in her cupboard, filled it, and sipped her coffee as she made her way into the main room and slid into her computer desk chair.
Outside, the friendly apartment flock of ducks quacked on her patio. The morning light threw streaks of pinkish-gray across her commercial brown carpet. Motes of dust danced through the brilliance. It should have reminded her of how long it'd been since she'd dusted. Instead, it brought thoughts of Celtic fairies to mind.
Amazing how great sex made an everyday morning spectacular.
Kelly set her mug down beside the computer. The monitor was dark, but the tower's light blinked a slow tempo, thereby alerting her to its suspended status. She jiggled the mouse to wake it up. The computer went through the automatic process of minimal system checks, while she located a notepad and pen...and sipped more coffee.
In moments, the system was ready, so she worked the Internet browser and brought up the website for Emerald Isle, Ltd. Knowledge of the company always wowed the interview panel or so espoused her professors. Homework. She could do her homework.
Instead of mining data for her hoped-for interview, however, she lost herself in the bios of the company executives. Spazz was identified as CEO, much to her amusement. Still blew her mind. Spazz. Company bigwig where she dreamed of working. Joey's name on the screen was a surprise. She hadn't... I mean, they're friends, yes, but Joey lives and, presumably works, in Ireland. But the company website didn't lie.
Joseph Patrick Michael O'Connor was full partner with Elliott Larson, CEO. More, he'd been the investing partner. Joey's money had funded the business! Her stomach hollowed, but for a cloud of birds' wings fluttering unpleasantly.
Oh, hell! She was sleeping with the boss.
Well, he wasn't her boss yet, she reminded herself, since she hadn't been hired. And the truth was, their arrangement was a temporary pit stop on the racetrack of their individual lives. Did she really expect him to stay around? Madness! He'd be here--what?--two weeks maybe? Long enough to do...whatever it was he'd come to do.
Not that she expected to spend all those two weeks at his side. Soon enough he'd be out of her apartment, back in Ireland, and going on with his magical life in that magical place that had those magical castles. "Three in the county," he'd said, reporting that fact as though the number of castles was as exciting as the number of Laundromats in the area.
Familiarity really did breed boredom.
And yet, nothing she thought stilled the anxiety twisting her guts and stealing her breath.
Joey's website bio. The man looked good in a suit. More than good. Of course, he looked better in her bed. She scrolled past the data regarding his business experience and schooling. She'd get better information by talking with the man. Down to the personal stuff and how he fit into the company's command structure.
Her scream of horror brought Joey charging into the room.
One of her peach bath towels was wrapped his waist. Patches of a shaving gel patterned his chin and cheeks. His gaze sliced through the room, hesitating on every shadowed corner.
There was nothing to see. Just her. Horrified, humiliated, and so incredibly stupid.
The towel slipped from his hips. He caught it in one hand and puffed out a hard breath.
"Christ Almighty, what's wrong?"
Despair tore the words from her. They ripped from her throat with the force of Krakatoa coming undone. "You're the Community Outreach Director!" Ohmigod, how could this be happening? "I'd be your assistant!"
"So?" Joey
's attention was fixed on re-knotting the towel.
Her stomach clenched. It twisted so hard she gagged. My God, I'm shaking. "You think I'm the kind of woman who sleeps with someone to get a job?"
Her words jerked his head up from his task. His fingers finished the knot, even as his brows furrowed over narrowing eyes. "What are you talking--"
"I'm not a whore," she forced out from between clenched teeth. "I can get a job without spreading my legs."
"Kelly, calm down. Tell me what's--"
But she'd wound up into a fully-fledged rage. "So my...our...liaison," she nearly hissed, "cheats someone out of a job? Sex for compensation? That makes me a whore."
He shook his head, looking genuinely startled. "Now, hold on," he began a protest. "I'm not going to--"
She thundered onward.
"What if this other person might need the job more than I do? What if she or he has no other way to bring home food? To pay bills? Just ignore that and get on my knees?"
His face darkened. A muscle along his jaw throbbed. "And you aren't needful?"
"Have you read the news on our current economy? Anyone over the age of forty has a shitty chance of landing a job. Young is cost effective, right? Office sex is convenient, no?"
"Where'd you get that number?"
She ignored his question.
"The job as your assistant may mean the difference between a family becoming homeless. Fucking someone should not be the reason to hire someone over another fully qualified applicant. Or fire them, for that matter. Let's not forget what would happen if I ever refused sex in the future. I'd be out on my ass."
A red flood of color flooded Joey's cheeks. His mouth pressed into a tight, white-lipped line. His gaze burned.
Sick. Sick. It was all so sick and it happened all the time. Worse, there was no way out.
"I may be needy, but I don't have any dependants. Not any more. Just the fish. That other someone might have kids, a spouse, maybe even hungry pets. Yet I get hired because you're enjoying yourself between my legs? Can't you see how wrong that is?"
Ides Of March Page 7
