“I… yes,” she stammered.
“How about this?” I asked as I slapped her cunt with three fingers, not roughly just enough to sting.
She squirmed, trying to close her legs but with me between her I kept her legs apart, “That ain’t happening lass, I want you to experience it all.”
Her chest was heaving and her tits were dangling like ripe apples from a tree while I sat between her legs inhaling her musky scent. I deliberately pushed my nose right into her panties and inhaled, letting out a deep satisfying groan and Alana gasped.
“I’m going to eat you and tongue fuck you until you forget your real name,” I ground out as I pulled out my knife from my back pocket.
Her eyes grew wide and almost fearful as I raised it to her dress where her breasts were exposed and as I slowly dragged the tip down over her stomach to her pussy, I hooked the G-string and snapped the flimsy garment.
“Oh my god Irish,” she managed to muster as she let out a sigh of relief.
“You need to learn to trust me darlin,” I said and then used my thumbs to spread her pussy open. Pretty pink and tight, I thought as my mouth watered to taste her.
“Are you going to… I mean, is it safe?”
Her innocence was even more of a turn on, and as I blew a breath over her clit and her legs spasamed, I looked up at her, “You’ll never be safe around me.”
Before she could say another word, I closed my lips over her clit and sucked it into my mouth, flicking it with my tongue. Alana’s breaths grew faster and her moans louder as I tongue fucked her. She let go of the counter and grabbed the back of my neck as she hooked her heels on my shoulders for support. I had no desire to wait, and as I shoved my tongue deep into her pussy and swirled it around, her body trembled. But even as her first orgasm assaulted her, I did not let up. I continued, driving my tongue into her and then dragging it up along her slit. I teased her clit, bit her pussy lips, slapped her ass and did the most delicious things to the most delicious woman. After her third orgasm, I finally let up and she sagged numbly to the floor, trying to stand. I flipped her over and shoved my pants down.
“Now I’m going to fuck you baby,” I whispered and Alana’s eyes met mine in the bathroom mirror.
Alana
Irish was a master at whatever he was doing, but when he did that thing with his tongue when he shoved it deep into me and then dragged it out was enough to drive me insane. Now he had me bent over like one of his whores in the bathroom. The only thing is, I wanted to be his whore. Sick I know, but that’s how he made me feel, he makes me feel dirty and good all in the same time. As he stood behind me, unbuckling his pants, I could see my breasts pressed down against the counter top with him towering over me.
I wanted to pleasure him, just like he had pleasured me, with my mouth, but Irish was already getting ready to fuck me, it was now or never. Pushing the heels of my palms against the basin I pushed him back away from me.
“My turn,” I mouthed as I dropped to my knees before him.
“Holy fuck…” he breathed as he gripped the base of his cock, pointing it straight at my mouth.
I had no clue if I was about to dismember him or make him cum, I was going purely on exposed porn experience from college, by no means did I have any idea how to give a blow job, but if it was anything like sucking on an ice pop or lollipop, then it couldn’t be that hard.
I wrapped my hand around his cock, just above where his hand was and guided the head into my mouth. It tasted odd, but nice, a slightly salty flavor as the first drop of his pre-cum touched my tongue. God, I hope I don’t gag! I thought for a second and then slowly took him deeper into my mouth. He was moving his hips, but only slightly, as if being careful. But if I was going to do this I was going to go all out. So I reached behind him and pulled his butt closer letting his cock slide deeper into my mouth, until I felt my gag reflex and then I pulled out, again and again I repeated this. Twirling my tongue around the tip of his cock and dragging it up along the base. Irish’s hands were on either side of my head as he started to pump his cock into my mouth, each time brining me to the brink of suffocation only to let me go. Between my moans and his groans, I couldn’t tell who was having more fun anymore. As degrading as this may have seemed, I loved the power sucking a man’s cock gave me, not just any man. Irish, he was the only one I wanted to have control over me, and who I would want to control.
Irish cussed and ground his hips forward, and I could feel his body growing taught, his balls hit my chin over and over and sucking sounds filled the bathroom, and then Irish pulled out. It was unexpected, and I almost leaped forward to take him into my mouth again, but instead he gripped my hair, pulled my head back and pumped his cock with his fist until ropes of creamy cum shot out all over my breasts and neck. It was shamelessly sinful.
The rest of the night, we did everything we could possibly do under the sun, and every second spent with him, I learned more about myself. I wanted to be with Irish, suddenly finding my dad, didn’t matter anymore, nor did the fact that we were fugitives.
“What if we can’t find my dad?” I asked in the quiet of the room after yet another session of wild sex.
“He’ll find you,” Irish whispered and kissed the top of my head, “And then he’ll cut off my balls.”
I laughed but Irish didn’t, he was dead serious, “I won’t let him do that to you,” I said tracing patterns over his bare chest.
“Trust me lass, your dad will do just what he wants if he feels it is in your best interest. When we find him or when he finds us, we’ll have to put all of this behind us.”
Suddenly it felt as if the Bronx Raiders were a better prospect than running into my dad, and I hated that I felt this way, but it was the truth. This was his fault after all. He caused this shit, and now I’m in love with a hitman and there’s nothing I could do about it.
Irish
We had finally made it to El Paso, bordering Mexico, and we were practically a mile from crossing the border. Once in Mexico we would travel to Brazil where Fergus would be waiting for us. Alana did not know this, but I had known all along. I felt like a dog for not telling her where her dad was, but I couldn’t. If she got into the wrong hands, they would have pulled that information from her without even trying.
“So from here we’ll travel to Brazil?” she asked curiously as she clutched my hand.
I nodded and smiled down at her, “That’s the plan.”
“Then what?” she asked.
“I don’t know yet, we’ll just have to play it by ear.”
She bit her bottom lip and glanced around, and I pulled her tightly against my side, “You need to relax, if you look nervous they will suspect something.”
She took a deep breath and plastered on a smile, and I winked at her, “That’s my girl.”
We carried on into the building at the Immigration Check point and I took out our passports. I had to give it to Goose, he was a master at fake ID’s and before we knew it we were cleared for entry into Mexico. Now I could finally breathe.
But my relief was short lived. As we exited the building to the bus terminals, a man walked up to us and addressed us as Mr and Mrs. Muller. No one was supposed to know about us.
“What do you want?” I asked frowning and Alana clung to my side.
The tall lank Mexican shrugged and then gestured towards the Limo parked on the opposite side of the street. This cannot be good, I thought as I looked towards the car with the tinted windows. Running now would put Alana’s life in more danger, and it would alert the authorities. We simply had no choice but to follow the instructions of the Mexican who met us.
“Is it Shamrock?” Alana asked nervously.
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s just run,” she urged me on, but I patted her hand and continued straight ahead.
The Mexican came running past us and then stopped at the Limo and opened the back door for us to get in.
This was it, today we were both going to mee
t our maker, and I would have failed Alana. I looked down at her and she met my eyes with her big green ones. Between the two of us, we made peace with what happens next. She gave my hand a gentle squeeze, and I smiled at her.
“It was a good ride while it lasted lass,” I whispered and then I slipped into the car with her following closely.
“Fergus?!” I exclaimed
“Dad!?” Alana said in shock, “What, I mean why are you… I thought… FBI.”
She made no sense, and I gently touched her hand.
“Irish, you’re a man of your word, I knew you would keep my daughter safe,” Fergus said in his monotone voice, “I was counting down the days to see you Alana, I really thought that Shamrock would get his grubby hands on you.”
I looked at Alana where she sat with her mouth gaping.
“I told you I’ll keep her safe Fergus,” I said and cleared my throat. If he got to know what I got up to with his little princess, I could kiss my Irish arse goodbye.
Fergus moved closer and leaned over to take Alana’s hand, “If there’s one thing I will regret for the rest of my life, is keeping you in the dark. I just didn’t want you exposed to the dangers of being in my line of business…” he started.
“What? You kept it from me, my whole life, and when the shit hits the fan, suddenly I have to just except it?” she blurted out and I cringed.
One thing about Fergus, no-one spoke to him with disrespect, “Alana,” I warned and looked at her.
“What? So now I must just roll over and pretend that none of this mattered?”
“Alana,” Fergus started, “I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I wanted you to know that I only did this to protect you, and in doing that, I put your life in great danger. If it wasn’t for Irish…”
“Leave Irish out of this daddy dearest, this is about betrayal, and you betrayed me.”
Fergus pulled and rubbed his forehead, “I know, and there’s nothing I can do or say that will justify my actions. Right now, I can only ask you to forgive me.”
“Never!” Alana cried and reached for the door, but I pulled her back.
“Hang on, just hear your father out,” I pleaded.
“Irish, it’s fine; I expected this to happen. But the thing is, I can’t protect her anymore. McCleary was found dead in the parking garage at the New York FBI office and Sully was taken out by Shamrock. There is no way to clear my name even if I could. Without their testimonies and the proof, which McCleary had with him, I’m a sitting duck.”
I frowned and looked at Fergus, “What are you trying to say?”
“I’m done, the FBI has already dispatched a team to come and take me, and to be honest I’m tired of running.”
“But Fergus, you can’t just give up!”
Fergus shook his head and then looked at Alana, “She cares for you Irish, and you care for her, I could see it the moment you walked through customs. Goose also told me how taken she was with you.”
“Wait, a minute…” I tried to interrupt, but Fergus held up his hand.
“You’re the only one I can trust to make sure she’s out of danger. I’ve transferred the last of my funds into an off-shore account for Alana. You need to take it and move on as Mr and Mrs Muller. You have no choice.”
I was shocked to the core, Fergus was actually handing his daughter to me, just like that? Shocked I shook my head, “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I started and then I looked at Alana and my heart cramped in my chest. How could I just turn away from her now?
“Dad?” she whispered, “Where are you going to go?”
He smiled at her and took her hand in his, “I’m not running this time,” he said and closed his eyes, “You two best be on your way before the suits get here. Keep her safe Irish, make her happy.”
I nodded and then reached for Alana’s hand, “Come, we have to move.”
She pulled her hand out and flung her arms around her dad’s neck, “Dad please! You can’t just give up!” she cried.
“Alana, sweetheart…” I begged, “We don’t have much time.”
Her dad pried her hands loose and nodded, “Be happy love, someday we’ll meet again.”
***
Irish tugged me by my hand, practically dragging me out of my dad’s arms. Although I hated him for keeping his life a secret, he was still my dad. And seeing him so down and out broke my heart.
Tugged along by Irish’s fast pace, I kept looking back to where the Limo still stood, half expecting to see a SWAT team storming his car, but nothing like that happened.
“Alana!” Irish shouted and shook me by my shoulders, “I need you to stay with me. I swear to you, your dad will be back one day. Right now, we need to think about us.”
Us? Did Irish just say us? I blinked a few times and looked up at him, “By us, you mean you and me?”
He smirked as he pulled me into one of the phone booths, and then rested his forehead against mine, “We are Mr and Mrs Muller, might as well embrace it.”
A bubble of laughter pushed up from within me, and regardless of the circumstances, there was still a silver lining around the storm of my life, and having Irish by my side to brave the storm, I really didn’t need anything else.
***
THE END
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royal deal
Chapter 1
The heat slams into me as I step down off the plane onto the private tarmac; oppressive and heavy. A far cry from the cool, crisp temperatures of the air-conditioned cabin of the corporate jet, the Washington humidity is relentless. Beads of sweat immediately form on the nape of my neck, causing my hair to curl. Desperate to escape the brutal heat of the July sun, I hastily made my way to the waiting limo.
Sliding to the far side of the vehicle, I breathe a sigh of relief at once again being in the comforts of air conditioning. Pulling out my compact, I tried to comb my fingers through my hair willing it to straighten back out. With a sigh, I clamp the compact shut; resigned to the fact that the time spent meticulously straightening my naturally wavy locks, had been in vain. Thankfully, my father had deemed it pertinent that we arrive in D.C. a day early to prepare for the upcoming contract negotiations. I would have time tomorrow morning to re-tame the wild tendrils.
The car door opened once more, letting in another blast of heat as my father and his Vice President of Defense Operations, Alistair Todwick, joined me. As the CEO of Aughton Securities and a royal descendent, Michael Sheffield was an imposing figure. A career military man, he spent a decade in the Royal Welsh Regiment before building his defense firm from the ground up. He carried himself with a certain poise. His dark eyes; keen with intelligence and scrutiny, could command your attention from across the room.
Where my father was tall, dark, and formidable; Alistair Todwick was his polar opposite. With fair skin, blue eyes and light hair, Alistair literally paled in comparison to my father. Despite being of royal blood, my father came from humble beginnings. His great-grandmother had been the Countess of Essex and sixth in line to the throne, but she had fallen in love with a commoner. Bucking tradition, she had opted to marry her sheep farmer.
Giving up the life of luxury that the palace provided, she and her husband tended the sheep, worked the farm, and raised their family away from the spotlight. It was the kind of romance that fairytales were made of. They ended up having five children and 14 great-grandchildren, one of those being my father.
As a sheep farmer’s son, my father had worked his way through college mucking stalls, and working the family farm before setting out to build his dream. Aughton Securities was one of the most prominent defense firms in the U.K. and he also held a position as a member of the Welsh Parliament. He carried himself with an innate hardness and determination.
Whereas Alistair’s family had money, tons of it, and he grew up the pampered prep-school boy with a silver spoon. Attending Eton and later Camb
ridge, Alistair was brilliant, but he was weak and soft, and carried himself with an air of entitlement. I didn’t understand what my father saw in him, but father continued to praise his work and requested that he accompany us on this trip.
Alistair made every effort to look like the devoted employee in my father’s presence, but behind his back, he scoffed at having to take orders from a ‘hired hand.’ Alistair couldn’t get past the scandal of my father’s great-grandmother not marrying royalty. He could only dream of having the lineage that my father had. He felt that the success of the company was due to his endeavors and efforts rather than my father’s hard work. He also took his sense of entitlement too far, making inappropriate comments and requests to his staff, particularly to the females. He had very strong opinions about a woman’s place; their time better spent on their backs than in the office. Having been on the receiving end of his unwanted advances, I couldn’t stand to be in the same car with him let alone be spending an entire weekend working with him. He made my skin crawl.
Already having a natural disdain toward women, he took particular exception with me and my position as Chief Legal Counsel, despite my qualifications. I had worked my way up through the firm, never accepting a helping hand from my father. Not that it was offered. My father didn’t believe in handouts. No daughter of his was going to be given a free-ride, regardless of bloodline or royal heritage. Nor did I want one.
I was proud of my lineage, but I didn’t want any favors. Technically, my father was the Viscount of Essex, which made me the Baroness of Essex but I never used the title. I wanted to earn my way, rather than have it be handed it to me because of a title. I started as a legal intern in the corporate office at Aughton Securities as I studied contract law at Oxford. Graduating in the top ten of my class, I was offered lucrative partnerships in prestigious law firms across the U.K. and abroad. Instead, I chose to stay and accept a junior associate position in my father’s company.
I still remember the gleam of pride in his eye when I formally announced that I would be following in his footsteps at the company. He had never once engaged me as to what path I should choose upon graduation. I was his only child, his baby, yet he stepped back and let me decide for myself. I respected him so much more for that. In the end, it was an easy decision for me. I wanted to continue the legacy of what he had built. But, I was determined to make a name for myself on my own merit, out from under the shadow of my father.
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