by Ciara Cole
“Shut up,” she panted, making her body move before she could stop herself. Her hips swept in a rocking motion, her inner muscles clamped and squeezed as her whole vagina revived that spontaneous ripple effect that felt so good with his wood stuffed inside her.
Rachael hunched forward and stared down to seek Sean’s gaze, which he fastened to hers with a glassy intensity. Guttural breaths rushed past his puckered lips to fan the feathery strands of her hair that hadn’t clung with the rest on her sweaty collarbone.
His expression of pained pleasure was almost her undoing as she reveled in the gloriousness of her moist heat being filled by him, the one man whose ownership her body understood and welcomed. And so she thrust—she thrust hard, her hips galvanized to speed up her bronco-like riding of her lover.
Hands of dominance gripped around her thighs, making her know he was taking charge this time, as he guided her rampant pelvis into a steady yet speedy romp. Rachael loved those strong fingers tightening into her flesh, reminding her that sometimes a woman enjoyed being taken, owned.
Her eyes rolled to the back of her head with every thrust Sean powered into her from below, like a steel spiral drilling within her core. How he could hit so many magic spots inside her all at once was a wonder. And before she even knew it, she came, flooding her orgasm all over him. Her sobs of ecstasy filled the room, with every bone in her body melting with spasms.
Sean’s raging hard stem inside her served as an anchor, keeping her stabilized so she didn’t dissolve in a heap. He swore harshly and didn’t hold back with that final bombardment of thrusts within her quivering walls.
“Sean!” she cried out as he released his seed inside her. He filled her up completely, leaving no region uncoated. It felt so good she couldn’t breathe. She was in her own world, where only Sean existed. This moment, this feeling of complete satisfaction, was the most selfish thing she had done for herself in as long as she could remember. If doing it was a crime, then she was guilty. And guilt had never felt so good…
***
Sean found Rachael gone once he woke up.
He swore as he checked his watch and realized it was barely after midnight. She must have left the moment he closed his eyes fifteen minutes ago. How could he have missed her body dislodging from his? She’d been snuggled against him, and he’d thought she’d still be there when he came awake. He must have been a fool.
His phone rang, and he quickly grabbed it from inside his jacket hanging over a chair. Any vain hope that it was Rachael became dashed when he saw the name on the screen.
“Hello? Sean, what the hell happened?” It was Moira, who worked as his restaurant manager and who also happened to be a good friend from back in Ireland.
“You must have been worried when I left the way I did,” he said, shoving a hand through his hair as he stood in front of the tall windows of his bedroom.
“I just don’t understand you sometimes!” she sniped.
“I know, I’m impossible to work with,” Sean murmured with an irrepressible smile. “Moira, you’re a capable manager, and that’s why I don’t have second thoughts about slipping up once in a while.”
It was true; Moira was really exceptional at her job of leading the restaurant. She made it her responsibility to drive the success of the restaurant in every way, while motivating the team and aiding Sean with meeting financial targets. Since they’d started working together from about day one of his career taking off, she’d built a strong track record, bringing her special kind of energy to the restaurant.
“So what was is it this time? You just drop everything and you…”
“Moira, it was Rachael. I saw her.”
He heard the spurt of silence on Moira’s end. “Stop the lights!” she exclaimed in disbelief. “You’re talking the Rachael? Rachael Arnold, the one you’ve tried looking for all these years? How did you find her?”
“I didn’t. She simply walked into the restaurant tonight and I saw her.”
“Well, that’s brilliant!”
“Yeah, sure it was. Until I managed to let her slip out of my grasp again,” he said heavily. “She was at my place, and then suddenly she’s gone without a trace. I don’t even have a clue how or if I’m going to see her again.”
“You want to talk? I can be right over,” Moira promptly offered.
Sean shook his head in refusal. What if Rachael decided to come back? Slim as the chance may be, he didn’t need Moira interfering in such a delicate situation. “We can always talk tomorrow. But thanks, Moira. You’re the one person who’d understand.”
“Of course I do. I’m here for you, Sean. No matter what.”
“I appreciate it. I’ll be at the restaurant tomorrow.” He hung up and thought, could he just carry on as if nothing had happened? He couldn’t imagine simply letting things get back to normal when he knew Rachael was somewhere out there in this city and possibly within reach.
He’d never been able to get her out of his mind no matter who he was with. No one could ever really compare to her and the way she had made him feel. From the first moment he’d seen her again, he knew she was meant to be his.
She hadn’t aged even a bit in seven years or changed much, except to look more beautiful and feminine. At 5’11, she was all smooth mocha skin, with long black hair that curled at the ends, and an athletic body. In that maroon dress she’d worn last night, her legs had seemed long and endless, and much too sexy even in sneakers. Her chocolate brown eyes, framed with long, dark lashes, were as liquid and beguiling as ever. She was so fucking sweet.
Sean decided he wasn’t going to count on fate this time. He couldn’t wait for another chance encounter. This time he’d take it upon himself to seek Rachael out of hiding, if hiding was what she planned to do. Why else had it been impossible to locate her all this while?
He couldn’t pretend tonight had meant nothing. He respected her too much to treat this as simply wanting a bang and then moving on.
***
Sean hated wearing suits, but he had to admit, he looked a hell of a “fine thing” in them, as Moira liked to say. It took solely an important meeting as this one they were here for to get Sean stuck in a suit even for a few hours. Didn’t mean he was totally comfortable with it, though.
“Are you nervous?” Moira asked as she viewed him from her place beside him in the empty waiting room.
“Somewhat, but not for the reasons you might think.” Sean enjoyed the perks that his success brought—the fame and money—but sometimes when it got too much about business, making profit and getting the fattest check, he worried that things just wouldn’t be fun anymore. “I simply want to keep the things I do as worthwhile as possible, for as long as possible. Cooking was never meant to be just a commercial venture for me.”
“But you’re young and have all this charisma. Nothing wrong with wanting to crack on and make the best of here and now,” Moira told him. “Just think how far we could go. Your very own app, a cooking show—and that new book you have on the way—I only see better things ahead.”
“I know I act cautious and even disinclined about the business side of things, but there’s no denying you’re bang on when it comes to getting me on track,” Sean agreed. He knew that to keep doing the things he enjoyed and which gave him happiness, such as making sumptuous, imaginative new dishes, he had to also make sure he focused on the right career advancements. He’d seen some promising chefs fall to the wayside of obscurity because they couldn’t make themselves marketable.
Now they were at this meeting to discuss Sean’s recent offer to become Brand Ambassador of one of the biggest names in manufacturing professional cutlery. He knew he was lucky to have such opportunities and took none of this for granted. He only wished he could be as enthusiastic about these things like he used to.
“Mr. O’Hare, Miss Walsh, they’re ready for you,” announced a model-thin, perky blonde assistant.
Sean and Moira were ushered in to the conference room. Its expansive glas
s table, rotating leather chairs, and walls made of glass to portray the exquisite city view of London were impressive. Six other men in suits stared at them from the other end of the conference table. Most notable of which was the CEO and managing director of the company, Eric Thompson. He was a forty-something gentleman with some Irish ancestry, which was why he’d made the suggestion that Sean as a fellow Irishman should be considered for the company’s brand. But of course that wasn’t the only reason, as Eric pointed out.
“Owing to your innovative and distinctive approach to culinary arts, you were our natural choice,” Eric said. “Once we finalize on all the main details, we’ll make the official announcement in a press release.”
Sean nodded in reply but was barely paying attention. All the discussions and paperwork pulled a blank in his head as he realized it had already been a week since he’d seen Rachael.
She crept into his mind at the worst possible times and made him almost incapable of focusing on anything else. Why was it so difficult to get hold of her? Short of hiring a private investigator, he hadn’t been able to make much progress in his search. He wouldn’t want to invade on her privacy by using a detective, but if he had to go that route…
Moira continued to do most of the talking at the meeting, which suited Sean just fine. She was a brilliant manager and catered to his every need. As expected, the upfront payment for the contract was more than generous. With Sean’s net worth already at over a billion dollars, he was hardly going to land deals that didn’t mirror his value.
An hour later and the papers signed, Sean and Moira were already in the limo back to the hotel. Moira was on the phone to first the New York, L.A. and then the San Francisco restaurants to check on things.
Sean stared out of his car window with a faraway look and almost missed catching his phone vibrating with a call. Glancing at it, he saw it was an unknown number and at first had no inclination to answer. But then he thought it might be Rachael… Fuck. It had to be her.
Turning slightly away from Moira who was still on her own call, Sean answered the phone, and the sound of Rachael’s voice on the other end almost made him sag in relief. No woman had ever had him this strung up, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it.
“Sean, hi. It’s Rachael.”
“So it is,” he said as easily as he could. “Any particular reason why you pulled that disappearing act last week?”
“I’d rather not go into that,” she said, her voice sounding between nervous or cautious on the other end of the line. Sean couldn’t decide which, but it pulled at his heartstrings. Why did she have to put up so many walls between them?
“Are you…do you still want to catch up?” she asked, and Sean didn’t hesitate.
“Absolutely.”
“I was thinking…if we can meet for coffee tomorrow somewhere.”
They made arrangements, and Sean didn’t let on that he wasn’t even in America. He already knew he’d find a way to make it there as soon as possible. In fact, he planned on being on the first flight out he could set up.
It was the first time in years he was actually looking forward to not sleeping with a woman, but having a genuine catch-up and just conversation. That first night, they’d let things get overboard, and who could blame them? But now Sean had his head on straight, and he vowed not to even think about the blazing chemistry they shared.
Keeping his physical needs at bay wasn’t something Sean was used to. He had a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am attitude with women and found them dispensable sometimes because he was always so busy. However, he couldn’t just brush aside things to do with Rachael. He would drop everything, literally, for a chance to simply get to see her.
And that was exactly what he was about to do.
Chapter Seven
“Is everything alright?” Moira asked suddenly into the silence of the limo.
“Oh, nothing much. Just that I’ll be making plans to head immediately for the airport when we reach the hotel.”
“Sweet suffering holy mother of…” Moira swore in disgust and then calmed down enough to add, “You must think I’m really thick, Sean.”
“Careful now,” he said with a frown that got her silent but bristling. “Look, it’s nothing you have to worry about. I just have somewhere I need to be tomorrow. I can only make it if I leave tonight.”
“What about the party Eric has planned, which is happening in just a few hours?”
Sean sighed. Eric Thompson had decided they needed to celebrate the success of the signing up, and had organized a formal dinner party. “You’ll just have to represent me. I’m sure you’ll make sure no feathers are ruffled.”
“What about my feathers? You can’t just check out right after the meeting,” Moira said, throwing up her hands.
Sean didn’t really want to argue. “I’m flying back on the private plane. You’ll have to make other arrangements,” he said apologetically.
“You aren’t going to tell me much more, are you?” Moira asked with resignation. “You receive one phone call, and now you’re riding home without me. I feel like things are happening so fast, I can’t even process what exactly you’re going through.”
For some reason, Sean didn’t want to get into details with Moira about Rachael, not now. He could just imagine Moira trying to have Rachael make another time for them to have their meet-up. There was no way Sean could risk that, as he couldn’t tell if Rachael might just decide to change her mind and not see him at all.
Why did Rachael Arnold have him so obsessed, even after seven years? Why couldn’t he think straight when it came to anything to do with her? Maybe he’d have all the answers when they saw each other again.
***
It was finally close to the time that Rachael was set to meet with Sean.
She’d been anxious about it since she’d made up her mind to call Sean just yesterday. Plus, she was still trying to decide which stance to take while letting out the truth. Could she stay neutral and simply discuss Leila’s existence, or would she end up losing control and act all emotional and bring up the past and all the heartbreak?
“Mommy, where are you going?” asked the seven-year-old who stared admiringly up at her mother getting ready in front of her dressing mirror.
“I’m just going out to meet with an old friend,” Rachael said with a smile.
“Is it a boy?” Leila asked, and Rachael nodded in assent and curved a surprised eyebrow while her daughter giggled. “What’s so funny, cupcake?”
“Oh, nothing, Mommy. I’m just wondering if he’s smexy.”
“What on earth—where did you pick that word up? You know you aren’t allowed to use grown-up words,” Rachael scolded.
“Sorry, Mommy,” Leila said, blue eyes downcast. “My friend said her mother was watching TV the other day and saw a really cute guy and called him ‘smexy.’”
“Well, if you want to ask if my friend is cute, then yes,” Rachael said, her chiding frown easing into a warm smile. “But you’re disallowed from using that other word, okay?”
Leila nodded, already brightening as her mother playfully pinched her cheeks.
Inwardly, Rachael thought how fast her daughter seemed to be growing. Leila picked things up way too fast. Rachael wanted her daughter remaining in her pink and innocent world for as long as possible.
Only, it took that exact thought to bring back the revelations of just yesterday. To when Rachael spotted her daughter’s diary next to her bed.
Since after Leila had turned seven and had asked to keep one, Rachel remembered how happy she’d felt about her daughter’s interest in writing and describing her everyday thoughts and life.
Unable to resist taking a peek, thinking it would be filled with entries about her daughter’s favorite teddy bear or getting another pair of sparkly shoes, Rachael was shocked by what she saw.
There, within the pages of Leila’s pink Barbie diary, were words that felt almost earth-shattering.
“I wish I could find Dadd
y,” read page one.
Just that sentence had jarred Rachael to the marrow.
She almost couldn’t turn the next page, where there was more: “All girls should have a daddy”; “OK maybe only good girls can have one;” “Am I bad?”…. “I will try to be good in school and games so my daddy will find me.”
Rachael had slumped on the bed in shock at the almost tangible pain flooding the pages. How on earth could Leila be feeling this way?
Leila was her baby, the loveliest little girl—a chatty, giggly bubble of chirpiness. She always had friends home or frequently got invited out to play because she was so popular. Who would have thought she hid such self-blame inside? How could she think not having a father was her fault?
Or is it mine? Rachael knew she’d never afforded Leila the chance to have a father-figure. Leila didn’t have any brothers and didn’t keep any close male friends. Leila would no doubt have noticed how different their own family structure was from most of her friends who at least had some kind of relationship with their dads. If so, the diary felt all the more devastating because Leila had never even questioned Rachael about it, and now Rachael had to find out like this.
Rachael had never really been sure how she’d handle the topic if Leila had ever asked her about her father. Discovering that her lively, confident little girl felt she was bad for not having a father filled Rachael with agony.
Rachael could just picture all Leila’s self-criticism soon turning to self-hate. And eventually, maybe Leila would turn the hate from herself to her mother.
That was the last thing Rachael wished to happen.
Rachael had already considered coming clean to Sean about Leila, even before reading the diary. Meeting him again out of the blue had felt like a sign. Now, with Leila to think of, Rachael had even more of a reason to face the past.
Suddenly, Leila going into a fit of coughing had Rachael filled with instant concern. “That doesn’t sound good,” Rachael said worriedly, dropping down onto her haunches and gently cupping her daughter’s face. No temperature. Rachael was still worried though. “I change my mind. I’m staying home with you instead.”
