Wild Irish Envy (Copperline #2)

by Sibylla Matilde

  I couldn’t have stopped touching her if the fate of the world had depended on it.

  I slipped one hand down her neck to rest over her soft breast, cupping and squeezing until the nipple hardened against my palm. Needing to feel her bare skin, I tugged at her sleepshirt, pulling it so I could slide my hand underneath. A tremble ran through her body, a gasp escaped from her lips as her head fell back, and my mouth trailed down her neck to find the smooth skin my hand had discovered. Fliss’ own hands caught the shirt’s hem and pulled it up over her head, causing me to groan at the sight of her bared tits before me.

  With my hand on one breast, my mouth closed over the nipple of the other and I ravenously fell upon her. Licking, sucking, and teasing her until she was keening quietly below me. Her fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me closer to her writhing body, arching up to give me access to her sensitive flesh.

  I was raging hard as I rose up above and beside her, capturing her lips while my hand burrowed into her lacy little knickers to swipe against her wet center. Her face turned to the side and a loud sob broke the quiet of the room when I pumped my fingers inside her, stroking her hot and silky pussy. Her hands left my body to frantically push down the scrap of lace and then she was completely naked below me. I rose up to look down at her, to watch my fingers stroking deep inside, to slide back out. The scent made my mouth water, and I grabbed the bottle of champagne, dumping a liberal splash from between her breasts to the apex of her thighs.

  Fliss cried out as it splashed against her clit, then moaned when my mouth sucked the liquid from her skin. My tongue swept deep inside her, seeking every drop. The musky taste of her arousal and the crisp, cool taste of the champagne intoxicated me. I laved my tongue over, around and in. I nipped and sucked, thrusting my fingers inside. Her moans became sharper, gasping cries in the dimly lit room that only fueled my fire.

  I pulled my fingers out, slick with her need, and pressed one against her tight rear entrance. Barely inserted, only the tip of my finger, but Fliss went wild. Her body arched towards me, lifting her hips up to meet my touch. She moaned as I touched her deeper, as I slid it in and caressed her, my mouth still sucking and nipping at her swollen clit.

  My entire body was throbbing with need. With want and desire and a fierce madness that took over all thought. I splashed more of the cool liquid on her skin, licking her dripping pussy and drinking her in until she tensed, then broke beneath me and gave me her sweet release.

  I started to kiss back up her stomach, nipping and licking away the remnants of the champagne, when she placed a hand on my chest and pushed, grabbing the bottle from me with her other hand. She took a deep swig of the champagne and lowered her head to my aching cock, carefully taking me into her mouth.

  The cool, bubbly liquid swirled around my dick, the bubbles highlighting every swipe of her tongue as she flicked the barbells of my Jacob’s ladder.

  I felt like I was going to feckin’ die.

  The hedonistic sway of her hips as she moaned with me deep down to the back of her mouth. She swallowed the champagne, and I about lost it right there, feeling her throat convulse around me. She tried to take all of me in, gagging slightly and pulling back before trying again. Lifting her head, she took another swig from the bottle before doing it again, and again… and again. Every second was torture and heaven all rolled into one, agony and exhilaration. Her tongue and her lips wreaked havoc on my skin, drawing a surge of heat through me until it was all I could do to not blow down her throat.

  I had to be inside her. I had to fuck her and feel her body tighten around me. Jerking her up, I grabbed the bottle and practically threw it onto the table, not even caring if it was upright or drenching the carpet below.

  Sitting back on my heels, I pulled her up to me, lining her sweet entrance up with my aching cock. Her skin was slick with sweat and champagne; the whole room seemed humid with sex and wine. She slid against me, onto me, carefully taking in my pierced cock as her arms wrapped around my shoulders and her fingernails scraped along my back.

  “Jaysus, Fliss,” I breathed against her throat.

  Her hips jerked and began to circle, sliding on and off me. Pulling at the studs of my ladder with every faint movement. Fliss threw her head back, her hair tumbling down around her shoulders, and I grabbed it and pulled. Her body arched as she rose, and her full, delicious breasts, wet with the champagne, jutted out. I caught her nipple in my mouth, drawing on it hard, and her pussy squeezed around me. I shifted to the other breast, and she did it again. It amped up my desperation. My need to come, to pound into her until we were both weak and sated.

  Twisting our bodies to lie back, I pulled one of her legs up, crossing it in front of me as I shifted her to her side. Drawing up her leg to spread her wide, I brutally pushed in. I wanted her to come apart around me. I wanted her to scream with release.

  So I fucked her hard. My muscles burned with strain, and sweat poured off my body. Every last brain cell I had was focused on the slide of my dick inside her. Every pounding, fierce thrust brought her closer. I felt her body tense, her cries became higher and faster, then stopped as she froze for a second.

  And suddenly, she broke below me, shaking and trembling with a shrill cry. Three, maybe four more strokes and I couldn’t hold back any longer. The sweet and painful tightening of her around me triggered my own mind-blowing release. The world went black around me for a minute. I saw stars flash and heard a rough groan come from my lips as I poured my passion into her, then collapsed on top of her.

  My body felt seized, and I had to mentally urge my hand to release her thigh so she could lower it back into a more natural position. She barely moved, though, so I guided it down some and then wrapped her tightly in my arms. My front to her back, my very happy cock still nestled in her warm, wet depth.

  And that was the last thing I remembered from my wedding night.

  The sound of rain pissing down outside woke me. Strange how that quiet whisper of noise, a sound I’d grown up with, had become somewhat foreign. I’d lived in Butte and then Ophir for long enough that the noises of almost constant rainfall seemed strange to my ears.

  My eyes opened to see Fliss’ hair spread out on the pillow beside me. Her dark lashes lay thick against her cheek, and her breathing was slow and steady. She was still very much fast asleep.

  I took that time to watch her. My wife. To study those features I had dreamed about for years. The fine heart shape of her face, her soft full lips and high cheekbones, the arch of her brows.

  She had always been incredibly beautiful. She grew older, as she left naïve youthfulness behind, she seemed to harden like glass, crystal that caught all the rays of light even on a cold and gloomy day.

  I shifted slightly, running my fingertips down her bare arm. In response, her body curled into the shelter of mine. And for a short time, I pretended that this could have meaning beyond our agreement, beyond my visa. Her petite little body fit so perfectly tucked up against mine and her fingertips slid down my forearm to tug the blanket slightly higher.

  I could have lain there forever.

  I wanted to.

  I did stay longer than I should have, simply allowing myself to feel that false sense of security and affection. That unfamiliar contentment prevented me from rising, kept me grounded up against her soft warmth.

  Knowing it was wrong to do so.

  She was nervous.

  I was nervous. I had no clue how this was going to go. No clue where we stood with each other.

  When I woke up in Edinburgh, Fliss was in the shower. I sat on the edge of the bed for a minute with my head in my hands, feeling a little hung over and tremendously off-kilter.

  In the light of day, would we still be lovers?

  Or now that the alcohol had worn off, would we go back to the arrangement?

  That was really the safer option of the two. I knew it, and I hated it… but I had to do it.

  The shower cut off and a few moments later Fliss emerged from th
e bathroom in a cloud of steam and her nightshirt. Her eyes were wary, and her hair fell in wet tendrils around her shoulders.

  For a second, we just kind of stared at each other, willing the other to make the first move. So I spoke. I said the very words I didn’t want to hear from her.

  “I’m sorry about last night. We probably shouldn’t do that again.” My tone was low and pained, partly due to the raging headache I had, partly due to the look of trepidation on her face.

  Her gaze dropped to the floor and her lip trembled before she caught it with her teeth. And then she nodded.

  “I know,” she whispered back, still not lifting her beautiful blue eyes back to mine. “I should probably just stay far away from you when I’m drunk from now on,” she continued. “It seems to be something that I… well, you know.”

  “Right,” I agreed sullenly. I felt like complete shite, both physically and mentally. I wanted her, but I shouldn’t. There was always a reason I shouldn’t.

  Wrapping the bed sheet around my waist, I made my way around her to the bathroom to shower, tagging a pair of jeans from my bag. With the door closed behind me, I allowed my choked up breath to flow. I allowed the agony to take hold of me for just a second, just enough to release some of the pressure that had me ready to crack.

  By the time I emerged, Fliss was dressed in jeans and a hoodie. All ready to go, hair back in a long braid and light makeup applied. Sitting on the bed by the window silently staring at the fine silver wedding band on her finger. She looked up as she heard me and offered a tentative, sad smile.

  “We should probably leave for the airport before too long,” she said. “Our flight leaves in just over two hours.”

  We barely spoke on the train to the airport. We barely spoke as we waited to board. We barely spoke as we took off and left Scotland behind us.

  About halfway back to Dublin, I couldn’t take it anymore. The silence between us was killing me, so I nudged Fliss gently with my elbow.

  “Are ya up to meeting my family tonight? We’ve got a few days before we leave, so if you’re too knackered we could wait until tomorrow.”

  “Tonight’s fine,” she replied, although the prospect had her looking a little peaked. “Best to just get it over with, right?”

  “That’s right,” I nodded.

  “Let the charade begin,” she murmured and looked out the window of the little plane, watching the coastal islands of Ireland come into view.

  Now, here we were at my parents’ front door.

  Me and my wife.

  Feckin’ Jaysus, I was going to hell.

  Fliss glanced up at me just as the door opened before us.

  “Bloody hell,” my sister said, her mouth dropping at the sight of Fliss standing there beside me, “you brought your girl with you.”

  “Shh, quiet yourself,” I murmured, nudging Fliss inside past my flabbergasted sister. “Who all’s here?”

  “The old man’s in front of the telly, and ma’s in fixing dinner with nanny.”

  I gave a quick nod in Fliss’ direction. “Ciara, meet Fliss. Fliss, this is my baby sister, Ciara.”

  “Fliss?” Ciara parroted. “That’s an odd name.”

  “It’s actually Felicity,” Fliss offered. “Denny’s the only one who calls me Fliss.”

  My sister’s eyes shot up to mine, narrowing with an unspoken question, but I ignored her and pulled Fliss behind me into the living room.

  “Hey, da,” I said.

  “Hey, Denny,” my da replied, “you wouldn’t believe this game of footie…” His voice trailed off as he noticed Fliss standing behind me. “Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph. You’ve got your girl with ya.”

  I sighed and looked over at Ciara who still seemed to be grasping onto the very same concept. “Would you go get ma and nanny?” I asked.

  She nodded dumbly and started into the other room hollering “Ma! Denny brought his girl with him!”

  “Not like that, ya eejit,” I groaned, then stopped short as my ma and nanny practically ran into the room, staring at Fliss as though she had two heads. “Ya may want to have a seat for what we’ve got to tell ya.”

  “Oh, feckin’ hell, is she knocked up?” my da moaned.

  Jaysus, could she be? I stupidly realized that it was a likely possibility. We hadn’t used condoms either time we’d been together, and, like a complete nob, I’d not even thought to ask if she was on birth control. I sharply looked down at Fliss, and she shook her head.

  “No, I get shots so… no… not that,” she murmured.

  I gave an uncontrollable sigh of relief as I looked back over to the others only to see that every one of them was aware that I had suddenly become frantically concerned about that very thing. My actions had just told them all that Fliss and I had knocked knickers as if I’d blurted it out myself.

  Everything about the moment was awkward, bordering on mortifying. So I took a deep breath and told them what we’d come to tell them.

  “Ma, da, nanny…” I looked over at my sister, “brat… this is Felicity.”

  “But,” piped up my sister, “Denny calls her Fliss.” She made a face to display pure and utter shock, a look that both my da and ma mirrored.

  “Shut your gob, will ya?” I frowned at my sister, but she just smiled back, all wide-eyed and innocent.

  My nanny, unlike everyone else in the room, just sort of gave Fliss an odd, dreamy smile, one that sorta made me a wee bit nervous. She didn’t seem the slightest bit surprised, only very pleased. Either she had really gone off her nut, or she had possibly… expected this?

  “Well, Felicity,” my mother began when she recovered the ability to speak, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Thank you,” Fliss replied, a little breathless with nerves. “It’s very nice to meet you, too.”

  “You’re American,” my da blurted out.

  “Well, actually,” I shrugged, aiming for nonchalance, but likely coming off more spastic than anything, “she’s sort of Irish now, too. She’s my wife.”

  My mother gasped. “What?”

  My nanny smiled even wider.

  My da lost what little verbal filter he ever had.

  “She is knocked up!” he gasped.

  “She’s not knocked up, da,” I said.

  “When did this happen?” Ciara asked.

  “Yes, Denny,” my mother nodded towards my sister, “when did this happen? Have you been married this whole time? You’ve not been home long enough to get married here.”

  “We just got back from Edinburgh this morning,” I explained, clearing my throat. “We didn’t want to wait.”

  “Jaysus,” my dad said. “And it’s not because she’s knocked up?”

  “Da, stop,” I sighed. “She’s not knocked up.”

  I looked back down to Fliss to see that my grandmother had stepped up to her. Studying her carefully, my nanny reached out to cup Fliss’ cheek. It should have been weird, but there was something in that meeting, something that I couldn’t really grasp.

  The old eyes met the younger ones of Fliss, and the gnarled, frail hand of my nanny touched Fliss’ smooth cheek. With a smile in her eyes, my nanny’s voice was barely audible.

  “I had a dream about you,” she murmured.

  I watched as Fliss’ lower lip trembled ever so slightly, and her eyebrows furrowed in question. And for a second, they just stared at each other as everyone just sort of watched the weird interaction in silence.

  “Well, Felicity,” my nanny finally said, “you come with me, and we’ll let my gossún finish explaining this to his parents. Ciara,” she nodded to the kitchen, “you come, too.”

  Fliss looked up at me warily, and I gave her a nod.

  “Probably best that ya don’t see my da kick me arse,” I said with a wry twist to my mouth, making a hint of an uncertain smile come to her lips.

  As the door closed behind them, I turned back to my parents’ shocked faces.

  “And she’s not knocked up?” my da inf
erred… again.

  I couldn’t even answer that time. I just glared at him in exasperation, and he straightened.

  “It’s just… I’m gobsmacked,” he muttered.

  “Denny,” my ma began, “if she’s not pregnant, what was the rush?”

  “We just know, ya know?” I replied, like that was any kind of answer. Fliss and I had sort of decided to be as vague as possible in an effort to not get caught lying by details.

  “Still an’ all, Denny,” she shook her head, “to do it all so quickly?”

  “We want to be together,” I tried again, “and her study abroad term is up, so she has to head back to Montana.”

  My da opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again to speak.

  “And she’s not—”

  “No, da,” I interrupted, “she’s not knocked up.”

  Dinner was awkward, to be sure, but it got a little easier as we sat around the table. My family spent most of the time asking Fliss questions about her family, growing up… how we met.

  “I met him when I was touring the campus at Montana Tech right before I graduated from high school.” Her lips turned up in a slight smile at the memory of that day, and her blue eyes turned to meet mine.

  “That was a while back if Denny was still in school then,” my da snorted. “Lazy dosser hasn’t done anything constructive in years.”

  “Bog off,” I scowled back at him.

  “How long have you been together?” my mother asked.

  “Not really very… uh…” Fliss began, but then trailed off, not really seeming to know what to say.

  “We’ve known each other for years,” I said, putting my hand over hers on the table, toying with the woven silver band on her finger, “but we didn’t really get together until we came here.”

  Ciara giggled to my family, then looked back over at me. “I knew she was your girlfriend.”