“Son, it’s good to have you back for a visit. It’s been way too long,” my pop chimes in as he lights his pipe and Grandad nods along.
“Alright, serve yourselves.” Mum issues the approval to eat, and everyone begins to dig in. I haven’t eaten since last night, yet can’t bring myself to care about food.
“You’re not eatin? You ill, son?” my mum worriedly questions, her short, greying hair adding to the concern taking residence on her pretty face; I never miss a meal.
“That’s not it. It’s a girl who’s got him all worked up.” Grandad grins, his weathered mug quite amused as he points a roll at me. Chatter erupts from the table, and I can’t help but roll my eyes like a petulant child.
“Yes! You are right. That is it! Well, I’ll be. Never thought I’d see the day.” James looks at me in disbelief.
“Alright, enough. I’ve fucked it up well and good anyhow, so it likely doesn’t matter now.” My crestfallen prose hushes any jabs as my family stares at me, slack jawed.
“Son, I’ve never understood where we went wrong as you’ve always chosen a rougher path. But you’ve always been a good boy. Deep down, you mean well,” Mum soothes.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve just been a difficult, bloody sod who made some bad choices. I never blamed anyone but myself.”
“Aye, even as a babe you’d set your mind to some God unknown task for who knows why. Bumpin’ your head along the way, only learning once you gave yourself a good wallup.” My dad is right; that’s about how it’s always been.
“How’d you cock up this time?” James asks through a mouthful of carrots, lacking an ounce of charm.
“Bein’ a pigheaded fool so focused on work that I missed her big gallery opening. I then ran to the airport without explaining myself or saying goodbye. Figured I’d just call when I landed. I’m no good at this relationship thing as much as I’d like to be.” I fill them in a bit more on the details. My family has always been there for me and never passed judgment. This has been the only place I had ever been able to fully be myself, until I met Sorcha that is.
“Jesus, boy! Now I know we raised you better than that!”
James chucks his roll at me. “Yeah, ya dumb shit.”
“Gavin, just invite her here and say you’re sorry. Ya should’ve done that from the beginning,” my dad insists.
“It’d be lovely to have her here for Christmas, love. Give her a call first thing and get her on a plane,” Mum urges, a twinkle of hope in her eye. Grandad nods along but never misses a bite as he continues on his mission.
Centered around the antique wooded table that I had eaten at as a child, my perspective of the world suddenly shifts as we finish our meal. Lord knows why I had been born a stubborn, testosterone-filled kid with a grudge for no good reason, but time and experience has worn me down. This, being surrounded by family and love, is what it is about. The rest of the shit doesn’t matter. Whipping out my phone, I take a step forward in trying to crawl my way back into her good graces.
“Alright, Gavin. It’s been over a year since we’ve gone down to the pub and gotten blasted. Let’s go!” James herds me from the table and out the front door as I finish composing a message. It’s too late there to call her. This ought to be fun. James is sure to keep me a drunken mess this whole damn trip.
∞
Pulling up to her house at dusk with the headlights off on my bike, I rethink what brought me here. My last grand gesture while back in London bit me in the ass, yet here I am again. A broken-hearted man in need about to drop to his knees and beg. Sure, she had a right to be mad, but did she have to send me a picture of the ripped-up plane ticket I sent her to have her join me for Christmas and meet my family? And refusing to take my calls or return my texts all week long? She fully froze me out! A bit rash if you ask me and if I had been my prior self, I’d be plotting her discipline.
As if sensing my uninvited presence, her curtain pulls back and the waves of her brown hair fall forward before she quickly snaps the drape back in place. I fucked up big time, a man so unused to dealing with relationships and women outside of the dungeon that I didn’t know where to start.
Since the day I moved out of my parents’ house, I haven’t had to answer to anyone. As a young buck, I’d bang ‘em and leave, no questions asked. As an adult, I had them countless ways under my specifications and then would leave just as quick. It must be love this time as I can’t stay away no matter how hard she pushes. No wonder men have gone to war over this shit.
Contemplating driving off and giving her more time to cool her fiery jets, my hand halts on the key as her figure slips out the front door but quickly begins to recede.
“Sorcha, please. Stop for a minute,” I implore as I jump off my motorcycle.
“Just go, Gavin,” she yells, that temper of hers adding to the bite.
“Won’t you let me explain?”
“I listened to your messages and read your texts. None of which pardons the level of disrespect you showed me.”
I flinch under the weight of her words. “I had to work and then rush to catch my flight. My phone died on the way to the airport. I was going to call you after I got it plugged in but your break-up text caught me off guard and pissed me off that you would go that extreme all of a sudden. Please, baby,” I beg and swing my arms wide in frustration.
“You had had all night, asshole. A simple phone call to let me know that you had to work would have sufficed. You brushed off one of the biggest nights of my life. Some fucking boyfriend. Not to mention I don’t know exactly what it is that Daz has you doing at all hours on the weekends but I am not sure I even want to be involved in that either. This is why I don’t do relationships. This is why I have no desire to engage in one from here on out,” she hisses in disdain, arms wrapped tight around her chest despite the thick sweater she has on. Fuck me, her tits look so good right now! I can feel their soft weight resting in my palms as we speak.
“How many times do I need to apologize? I’m a bastard; I lack certain emotions and sensibilities when it comes to maintaining connections with people. That is not new. I’m trying, baby, please.” I brush my hands through my hair and pull in frustration. Something raw in my voice cracks and the image of her walking away is more than I can stand. My chest heaves and tears prick my eyes. Some fucking man I am, but I have to try. “Will you humor me one last time?” I plead.
“I’m not going to let you come up to fuck some sense into me if that is what you are after!” She turns on her heel in a fury, green eyes aglow with ire.
“No! That isn’t what I was going to say. Come take a drive with me. There is something I want to show you.” I follow her up the steps and resist the urge to throw her over my shoulder like a caveman and run off.
She turns back into me with a confounded expression written into that heart-shaped face that gives me hope. “What are you getting at? I told you, no more fuckery.” Her warning is loud and clear. There will be no more chances after this.
“It’s not. Please?” I take her cold hand in mine as I beg. Seconds are drawn out into minutes as she stands there, thinking. I can see the depth in which her mind is working. It is almost painful. Finally, her shoulders drop in defeat. Yes! It’s a yes! It is all that I can do not to sweep her up and kiss her, but I know that that level of affection is not welcome at this time. Forgiveness is the goal of this mission.
Leading her to the bike, I shrug off my leather jacket and make her put it on. After issuing helmets for us both, I bring the engine of my Harley Street Glide to life and peel out of there, rushing us towards what I hoped would be a game changer. Sheer happiness of having her clinging to my back has my wild eyes frequently deviating from the road as I try to focus. After about fifteen minutes of cruising, she finally yells over the engine as we come to a stop light.
“Where are we going, Gavin?”
“Do you trust me?”
“No.” One simple, two-letter word cuts my heart out and serves it
up on a platter. I did that, I broke her trust, and shook the foundation of all that we had built. I’m a complete, stupid asshole.
Blowing out hard, I try to gather my words, re-focus on the mission. “Sorcha, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you, earning your trust back.”
“There’s no need for that nonsense. Show me what you need to and then take me home, please.” Nothing but artic chill radiated from her, several degrees lower than the surrounding climate as if all the time we had spent together meant nothing.
“Did I mean anything to you at all?” I venture, pissed how she threw everything away just like that.
“Did I?”
“You mean everything.”
Her surly grunt in response has me pressing harder on the gas as the light turns. Finally breaking away from the city traffic, we ease onto the beachside highway and cruise the peaceful coast. The typical wind and fog is oddly absent as her warm body stays glued to mine. I wish I could freeze this heavenly, tension-free moment in time; my woman on the back of my cruiser as we glide down the wide-open coast, inhaling the salty air. After a thirty-minute drive, we come to a stop in the driveway of the little beach home that I had been spending my free time at, fixing up.
Sorcha hesitantly peels away from me before getting off. Rushing from the bike to get ahead of her, I barely get my helmet off and tucked under arm as I open the front door and turn on the lights. She hesitantly follows my beckoning wave with an odd look. Ushering her in, I promptly close the door behind us against the December chill.
“What is this, Gavin?” she asks as she wanders around the small area but stops dead in her tracks at the entrance of the dining room. “What the hell?!” She gapes at the huge mandala collage taking up the dining room wall.
“You loved that piece. When Samuel told me that they were allowing the gallery owner to set fair prices for all of your works, I made sure this one went to me.” I indifferently shrug. Why is she surprised?
“You bought that monstrosity? And put it here… this is your place?” Her voice hits a new octave of surprise as her feet nervously shuffle against the beech-wood floors.
“I couldn’t see it going to a stranger, and I fell in love with it too when I snuck in for a sneak peak before the event opened.”
“Lurked in the shadows but couldn’t be bothered to be seen with me, eh?” Her snarky tone makes me want to put my fist through the wall.
“That’s not it and you know it,” I bark.
“Fine. Why did you bring me here?” She sulks and tries for an apathetic pitch, but it falters.
“To show you what I’ve been working on. I’ve been remodeling this place with my own two hands.” I take her helmet and set it with mine on the dining table.
“Congratulations. Everyone needs a hobby, I suppose.” She sniffs in disinterest. Goddamn it, she’s cold.
“Fuck, Sorcha! Drop the brat act, now. I want this to be for us. I want you to move in with me!” my deep voice booms in frustration, done with the act. I’ve scared many grown men with that kind of explosion yet still, she remains unaffected. She really isn’t afraid of me. A fact that gives me pause in the best way.
“Damn it, Gavin! I broke up with you. That ship has sailed!” Her breast lurches in emotion and her eyes giveaway the battle taking place between her scrupulous head and her heart. Something deep within her pleads with me to see past her defense mechanisms that have her locked up tighter than that virgin ass of hers was.
Fuck it. Grabbing her up and into my arms, I charge at her cherry-red lips. I kiss her with all the love I hold in my heart and need that goes far beyond sex. I need her by my side, period. She fights me for about half a second before giving into it. Another second passes before she begins to sob, her salty tears melding onto our lips. To consume her sadness, to taste her tears is like heaven and hell wrapped into one. Her warm, soft mouth becomes water in the desert.
I hold her tight and swear to the heavens that if I ever hurt her this bad again, may they strike me down then and there. The desperation in which I claim her mouth is met by her as she jumps and wraps her legs around my waist.
I back her into the living room wall. As hard as I am, sex couldn’t be further from my mind. Having her willingly back in my arms is better. After a few minutes of being enveloped in divinity, she pulls back and sucker punches my jaw out of nowhere. Her delicate fist packs a horrid punch, and pain bursts through my head. Despite the impact, I don’t budge or make a sound. I’ve been hit harder and kept a straight face. Part of me expected this much.
“Don’t you ever make me feel like that again! Do you understand me, Gavin?” She seethes, anger and pain etched deep within her lovely features.
“Crystal clear. Is that a yes?” I grin like a smug bastard seeing the weight of her resolve waver, blood trickling over my taste buds.
A slew of cuss words that would make a nun weep flow from her mouth, causing my grin to spread even wider.
“It’s a yes! Oh, thank fucking God on that, baby! You won’t regret it. I swear on my grandmother’s grave, you won’t regret it, Sorcha Quinn!” I pull her back to me and claim her mouth once more as I walk us to the master suite in a haze of love and joy.
Never in my life has such happiness descended upon me, wrapping me up entirely. Who knew my distant and self-absorbed life could be elevated to this level. In finding her, I found myself. Gone is the scrappy beast always looking for an exercise in precision and control. Gone is the man who tortured his family with his ill decision making in a quest to find himself. And finally, after being divested of all the disguises I had been wearing by the eyes of an angel, here I stand.
∞
That fucking little minx, always keeping me on my toes. My blood pressure rises, thrumming in my ears as I narrow my eyes at the phone now glowing with her text.
“I know you said not to, but I did.”
She fucking didn’t. I explicitly told her not to! I’ve always kept my places masculine, clean, and simple. Sorcha came home with purple color swatches and a mean gleam in her eyes the other night. After cuffing her to the spanking bench in our new playroom at the beach house, I thought it had been made pretty clear that we were not going to have a purple fucking kitchen. Palming up my keys, my dominant hand twitches with the need to feel the well-worn leather handle of my whip. This woman continues to be a brat, and she refuses to adhere to a more proper sub’s role. For the most part, we’ve found a balance, but moments like these try me.
Something about what we share has managed to satisfy my sadistic side, and she has proven to be more of a masochist than even I thought possible. Her sexual submission could make a grown man cry. Sure, sex is the only setting in which she can fulfill this crucial role; Sorcha will never be able to embrace the lifestyle full force and that is okay. It works, what we have is unique, and I wouldn’t want her any other way.
My cock pulses against my zipper as the soft caress of her mouth on my dick lights my imagination. Oh, yeah. I am going to whip that ass, throw in some cock worship, leading up to a couple days’ worth of orgasm denial for her. Her body responds to my whip like the world’s finest symphony to a master conductor; it’s fucking beautiful. And her hungry little mouth certainly can’t get enough, especially for one who had such an aversion to the act of blowjobs. By the time I am done with her tonight, she will be dripping wet and begging for it. And I’ll be damned if she gets a release until the weekend! Better throw in the threat of kneeling on the cement on our porch for an hour if she even thinks about masturbating.
The delicious curves of her body and all the things I want to do to it distract me from my current task, forcing me to quickly shut down my laptop in a rush to get home to her. The memory of her spice on my tongue has me licking my lips in anticipation as the distant reminiscence of her aroused scent fills my nose.
“And where in the hell do you think you are going?” Daz rasps from the door of my office at Tryst, ripping my concentration away from my plotting
.
“Heading home, boss,” I grunt and cast an unpleasant glare in that direction, pissed at the interference.
“You are one scary fuck; good thing that doesn’t work on me.” The almost non-existent trace of his Jersey accent peeks through as he casually draws on the stub of his cigar. “We got a problem to deal with.” He feathers out a cloud of smoke as he narrows his eyes, assessing me.
“There is always a problem to be dealt with. It can wait until tomorrow.” Slinging my leather jacket over my shoulder, I push past his stalky but solid frame. No doubt he could hold his own in hand-to-hand combat just fine.
“Who’s the boss here again?” he attempts to question with authority, but the humor in his eyes ruins it.
“You are. Later.” As I begin to exit, he calls over my shoulder.
“Nah, pretty sure that sexy brat of yours holds your balls now.”
Turning slightly and glancing back, a devious grin spreads over my face, disintegrating the traces of a scared past, “Quite capably. You should try it sometime.”
His robust laugh rings out as he shakes his head. “Not a chance. Later.”
Hoping on my bike and bringing the engine to life, I ease the clutch back and give it some gas. As the city lights begin to blur off in the distance, the night swallows me up and I continue on my plight to get to home to her. We’ve been living together a month as of today, and I’ve never been happier. Well, until her artist side came calling and she started getting all of these ‘ideas.’
The only reply I gave when her text came through was “Be home at 2.” Aside from living at home with my parents, I had never lived with anyone. Thank God for that because this melding of two households, two ways of life bullshit, has been enough to give me a few grey hairs. Visions of getting her under me flush my neck as I turn down our street, my body now humming with a new excitement.
Pulling up into the driveway, all the lights are off, heightening my awareness. She normally leaves the living room light on. She must have gone to bed already. Unacceptable! If Sorcha is sleeping, it won’t be for long.
Scrupulous (An Affliction of Falling Novel Book 1) Page 24
