A story of chances lost, opportunities gained, and the fight for love through guilt ~ Shell
Holy wow Sibylla is an amazing writer and this one was just fantastic ~ Clare
The best Irish fella I've ever read ;) ~ Ruth
Denny is a wanker......... However the more you read the more you realise he can be as smooth as a pint of Guinness ~ Odette
Omg I do believe this one is my fav!! Oh how I love Denny!! ~ Sada
This book was so well written between the Irish and English wording you are crying and laughing at the same time ~ Kim
Denny is the best dang wanker in the history of wankers!! ~ Lisa
© 2015, Sibylla Matilde
[email protected]
Cover photography: Sara Eirew Photographer
Cover models: Stephanie Lambert and Rémi Desgagné
ISBN: 1511412629
ISBN-13: 978-1511412629
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from Sibylla Matilde.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. With the exception of the original material written by the author, all songs, song titles, and lyrics contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.
To Denny, thank you for being a wanker. And
to my Pimp Shell who bagsied him.
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
Songs that inspired Wild Irish Envy
Acknowledgements
Other Novels by Siby
About Siby
Stalk Siby
a good spit: (phr) not very far
A-one: (phr) good job; well done
arse: (n) backside; bum
arseways: (a) messed up
as sick as a small hospital: (phr) very ill
barney dillons: (n) shillings; money
bap: (n) bread bun
bean-jacks: (n) ladies toilet
bird: (n) girl generally; or girlfriend
bits and bobs: (phr) an odd assortment of anything
black pudding: (n) sausage made from blood, meat, fat, oatmeal, and bread or potato fillers
bleedin’: (a) strengthening adjective; used liberally
bloke: (n) man; male person
bloody: (a) strengthening adjective; used liberally
bog off: (phr) go away
bollocks: (n) testicles; also used as an exclamation
bolloxed: (a) very drunk
boot: (n) trunk; cargo area of a car
busker: (n) a street performer
cacks: (n) underwear
can’t be arsed: (phr) to be seriously lacking motivation
car park: (n) parking lot
cheesed off: (a) angry
chubbed up: (phr) having an erection
clink: (n) jail
coddle: (n) a one-pot Irish dish commonly consisting of roughly sliced pork sausages and rashers with sliced potatoes and onions
craic: (n) fun time and good conversation (pronounced ‘crack’)
crisps: (n) potato chips
culchie: (n) a city dweller’s name for a country person
da: (n) father
dodgy: (n) suspect
dollybird: (n) a woman who is all dressed up to the nines
donkey’s years: (n) a very; very long time
dosser: (n) layabout; useless; lazy person
d’yaknowhwatimeanlike: (phr) do you know what I mean?
Dub: (n) someone from Dublin
eejit: (n) idiot
feck: (n) used instead of the other f-word
feckin’ Jaysus: (phr) invocation of Christ’s name in an incredulous and unbelieving manner
fella: (n) male person; also used for boyfriend, husband, partner
fierce: (a) very
fine thing: (n)
fine bit of stuff: (n) admiring comment on member of opposite sex
fluthered: (a) drunk
footie: (n) football (i.e., soccer)
fuckhead: (n) derisory term denoting a total feckin’ gobshite, moron, or other malodious form scum
get up on a stiff breeze: (phr) easily aroused
give her the business: (phr) have sexual intercourse with
gob: (n) mouth
gobshite: (n) idiot; exclamation of disapproval at anyone or anything
gobsmacked: (a) very surprised
gossún: (n) child
grand day for the ducks: (phr) pissing rain
he’d shag a crack in a plate: (phr) will feck damn near anyone
hi: can come at the beginning or the end of any sentence; really has no meaning whatsoever hi!
hoor: (n) woman of loose morals
hooring: (v) being slutty and sleeping around
howya: greeting
horse it in: (phr) to sexually ravage
jacks: (n) toilet
Jaysus: (phr) Jesus; common expression of disbelief or despair
Jaysus bleedin’ ting: (phr) some infernal source of consternation that causes untold grief
johnny: (n) condom
knackered: (v) very tired
knickers: (n) ladies’ underwear
knockers: (n) breasts
knocking knickers: (phr) having sex
lift: (n) elevator
loo: (n) toilet
lorry: (n) a truck, especially a large one
ma: (n) mother
manky: (a) filthy dirty
nob: (n) penis
not worth a shite to me: (phr) used when someone offers you something which is of no practical value
off his face: (phr) very drunk or high
off your nut: (phr) crazy
Pasty: (n) a large, round patéd pie eaten in Northern Ireland… and Butte
peeler: (n) policeman
put a Santa hat on it and call it Randal: (phr) messed up; crazy; beyond understanding
posh: (a) high class
rashers: (n) pieces of bacon
relax the cacks: (phr) calm down
ride: (n) an attractive person or (v) to have sex
right: (a) very
rock on: (n) erection
savage: (a) very severe or excellent
savage ride: (n) great sex
scarlet: (a) blushing
scrubber: (n) female of low morals
shades: (n) police
shag: (v) have sex
shaggin’: (a) the act of having intercourse
shite: (n) shit
shlossed: (a) very drunk
shopping trolley: (n) shopping cart
; slagging: (v) teasing or making fun of someone
slán: goodbye
snapper: (n) child
snog: (n) kiss
sod: (n) chap; fellow
sod off: (n) leave
spiteful ride: (n) hard rough sex
stocious: (a) drunk as a lord
Taytos: (n) crisps (i.e., potato chips); brand name, but most refer to crisps as Taytos
throwing a feckin’ moody: (phr) getting upset and angry
toke: (n) a drag of marijuana
tosser: (n) wanker
wank: (n) to masterbate
wanker: (n) an uninteresting person; usually someone you can’t stand
what in the Jaysus?: (phr) exclamation
whatcha goin’ mad for?: (phr) used to irritate someone who is getting angry
would ya ever just feck off?: (phr) go away and leave me alone
young wan: (n) a young woman
you’re grand: (phr) a term to tell someone no or that you are fine
May, four years ago
She stood there in the faint haze of dusk. Staring out the window, over the fields before her and the mountains that lined the horizon. Off to the west, the setting sun cast a breathtaking purple-pink glow across her features, lighting the tear tracks down her cheeks.
I knew I was the last person who should offer her comfort. She was Trent’s girlfriend. Never mind that I saw her first. Never mind that she had once smiled at me and I saw a bit of peace. That I had wanted her before he even knew her.
I had just never told him that. Or her.
“Fliss?” I softly said, and she sniffed and quickly wiped her eyes, not looking over at me, but instead dropping her face down and away. Inhaling a steadying breath and straightening a bit, she blinked rapidly to clear the tears from her eyes as she looked again out the window.
“I’m sorry, Denny,” she finally whispered.
I took a few steps towards her, touching my fingertips under her tense chin. She resisted the pull for a few seconds, but eventually allowed her face to be drawn up towards me. Her sapphire blue eyes retained their unfocused gaze across the western Montana landscape, watching the last glimmers of sunlight quickly fade away.
I traced my fingertips along the sweet curve of her jaw, wiping away the trail of wetness down her cheek. This brought her luminous eyes up to mine.
“Don’t be nice to me,” she breathed in a broken voice. “Not now.”
I touched my forehead to hers.
“Fliss…” I murmured, cupping her face in my hands. We stood there, quiet and hurting, for what seemed like forever. The sky darkened slowly, and a faint glimmer of stars began to appear. She gently began to settle into my body and we found a silent refuge for a time in just being close.
Until I fucked it all up.
I heard her inhale a broken breath, a faint shudder, and turned my face ever so slightly into hers. My lips brushed along her high cheekbone, feathering over the damp path of her tears. I pressed a tender kiss on her skin, and a faint salty taste lit on my tongue. My hands had slowly moved from her shoulders up to her slender neck, into the thick, dark silk of her hair, coaxing her face up until my kiss touched the corner of her mouth.
Then everything suddenly changed. Her lips parted, and a faint startled gasp seemed to echo in my mind. For a split second, we stood frozen. Knowing I shouldn’t, but wanting to so badly, I softly touched my lips to hers.
It was so light that I’m not sure I could have even called it a kiss. Barely contact. An ethereal dusting that echoed with a tender longing.
But it was tremendous… electric and powerful. Fierce and mighty. Overwhelming.
The almost-kiss erupted into an irresistible plunder of her lips. A fiery wave of longing and urgency rushed through my veins and seeped through my body. I slanted my mouth over hers, exploring the taste of her with a moan of pure, sensual emotion.
Fliss’ arms slid up my biceps, sliding over my shoulders as her petite form melted into mine. One of my hands held her face steady, keeping her captive for my kiss, while the other stroked down her torso to wrap around her waist.
She felt so fragile, small and delicate in my arms, yet I crushed her to me in desperation. That gnawing hunger for her, that eternal longing, flowed through my veins as I deepened our kiss.
And for a moment, I forgot.
I forgot who we were, who she was. I forgot Trent. I lost myself in the sweet intoxication of her lips, spurred on by the vicious ache that had consumed me for so long.
It was her voice, soft and breathless, that brought me back.
“Denny…” she gasped as I lifted scarcely away to catch a breath.
It all came raging back to me.
“Feckin’ hell,” I groaned as I pushed her harshly, shoving her back against the wall. Away from me. She stumbled with the abrupt movement. Her hand, those fingers that had just been tangled in my hair, lifted to cover her mouth in horror at what we’d just done. Fierce anger at my own actions ripped through me, at the realization that my envy had finally taken control.
I’d finally given in.
I’d just kissed the girlfriend of one of my best friends.
And I’d done it at his funeral.
Present day
“Oh, yes, fuck me, Denny!” Ruth cried as she slammed down on me again and again. “I’m a dirty little slut. Fuck me harder!”
Best going away present ever.
Ruth always seemed to be a bit of a wallflower during parties, even though she was quite stunning with her long, mahogany hair and mysterious dark eyes. She’d caught my attention more than once, but was never alone for long, and I’d never really gotten to her fast enough… until tonight.
I’d heard from a couple of the fellas that she lit up like the bleedin’ Fourth of July once ya got in her knickers. Granted, all the blokes I hung out with could get up on a stiff breeze, especially Justin. He’d shag a crack in a plate.
That said, though, Ruth really had turned into quite the firecracker, cursing with words I’ve never even heard before as I gave her the business.
“Oh, yes, right there. Fuck!” she squealed as I shifted my hips to hit her just right with my Jacob’s ladder piercings. “I’m going to come. Shit! Fuck! Oh yes, fuck my pussy!”
Then she sorta went off in some kind of garbled speech that practically sounded like some kind of pagan tongue. I heard the occasional ‘pussy’ and ‘cock’ and even let out a ‘goddammitshitfuckhell’ at one point right before she gushed all over me.
Oh, yeah. She was great craic.
She lay there straddling me on the couch in the music room with her skirt up around her waist, her bared knockers heaving against my chest. The calamity of my farewell party continued raging in the other room, a pulsing beat almost shaking the windows. They’d probably still heard Ruth swearing over the music, though. She could make a porn star blush.
“A-one, Ruth,” I murmured, patting her lightly on the arse as she breathed into my neck when we had finished.
“I don’t know if you’re complimenting me or not with that Irish accent of yours,” she giggled into my shoulder, “but thanks, I think?”
“It’s a compliment,” I chuckled. “That hit the spot.”
“Mmm…” she murmured in response, “those piercings of yours hit the spot.”
She really had been pretty damn good. I wasn’t sure why I had never tried her out before.
“It’s too bad you have to go,” she said, rising upright to look at me, combing the hair from my eyes. “I’d be interested in doing this again sometime.”
She was nearing that danger zone, where these fine bits of stuff started getting a little wistful after a good hard shagging. It was like walking a tightrope, requiring the delicate balance of flattery and reality to keep from hurtling to the ground.
“I’m not sure how long I will be gone, so don’t hold your breath,” I said lightly, imparting the reality to be sure there was no misunderstanding. “Who knows though? I might be
up for another round when I get back.”
She gave me a shy smile, then lifted up off of me to straighten her skirt, cover her breasts, and find her knickers. I stood as well, slipping off the condom and tossing it before I tucked myself back into my jeans.
“Well,” Ruth said, once she had gotten herself sorted, “give me a call when you do get back. I’d be willing to go another round with you, too.”
As she slipped out of the room, my mind turned back to Dublin. This time tomorrow I’d be about halfway there, and I really didn’t know when I would be able to come back. If I’d be able to come back, really. My student visa was hardly valid anymore. I just hoped things with my grandmother, my ‘nanny,’ would get better quickly, although there wasn’t much chance for that. My da had said it didn’t look good.
I was likely going back for a funeral.
I sat back down on the couch and scrubbed my hands down over my face. My nanny was the person I missed the most in all of Ireland. There was just something special about her. How ironic that going back to see her one last time would likely keep me there without her around.
I dropped my hands down to my lap and caught sight of the tattooed lyrics on my forearm.
Always hungry,
Craving,
Desperate and fading,
A twisted, tortured memory
Of you
At least if I got stuck in Dublin, it would solve one problem. I could maybe, just maybe, finally put that ghost to rest. Put the past behind me, release that guilt and regret, and forget about that one girl who had haunted me for years. The one girl I could never have.
I wondered for a moment if her hair was still that deep crimson red it had been the last time I saw her.
It was naturally a rich, dark chestnut that lit like a flame in the sun, and it had been that shade when I had kissed her.
She’d started dying it not long after Trent’s funeral. As much as the color was startling, it fit her. It fit the personality I remembered as much as it fit the wild streak that took hold of her after Trent died. The steampunk, pinup style of clothing she wore. It all at once screamed ‘look at me’ yet also seemed to shield her true persona from the world outside. An artifice that protected her frail soul within.
Wild Irish Envy (Copperline #2) Page 1
