by Josie Kerr
“Sláinte,” she said, clinking her mug with his.
“Sláinte,” Mick toasted back.
They sat in comfortable silence, listening to a playlist that Em had turned on to keep Beauregard company. Mick smiled as he recognized the familiar songs.
“So the cat likes Newfoundland music, too?”
“A lot of it’s about fishing, and Beauregard likes fish, so it makes complete sense.” Mick chuckled at her logic.
Em raised her eyes up at Mick and saw that he was looking at her intensely. Em licked her lips and Mick’s eyes zoomed in on the moisture that her tongue left.
He leaned down into her and whispered in her ear, his breath hot, “Em, may I kiss you?”
“Please do, Mick.”
After taking her mug and setting both on the coffee table, Mick put one hand on her neck as he kissed her cheek. He moved over to her mouth and kissed it chastely before moving to the other cheek. Em’s mouth opened slightly and Mick moved back to her mouth, kissing it more deeply. He opened his mouth more, and suddenly, his tongue and Em’s were locked in a battle of passion. He brought her head nearer to him and wrapped his other arm around her back, pulling her body to his chest. Em threw her arms around his broad back, pulling him close. She rose up on her knees, pressing her torso to his and kissing him even deeper.
Mick pulled her into him to lie back on the large Victorian divan. One hand drifted down to a buttock and softly gripped the round globe. Em expressed her approval for this move by pressing her breasts into Mick’s chest and tossing her glasses on the coffee table.
Mick could feel Em’s nipples through the soft material of her shirt and bra. He moaned into her mouth, wrapping one of his long legs around hers. He kissed her neck, nipping it a little, and licked the soft curve of her ear. Now, it was Em’s turn to groan. She wiggled her hips against him in pleasure, rubbing against his hard erection. When she straddled him, still kissing, he didn’t stop her.
They were like two high school kids, fully clothed but writhing all over each other. Em had unbuttoned his shirt and was running her hands over his chest and under his undershirt. Mick had his hands under her soft blouse, where he thumbed her nipples through the lace of her bra.
Mick grabbed Em’s hips, grinding her against him. He could feel her heat through two layers of denim. Em gasped and tensed as an orgasm rocked through her. Mick could feel her pussy clenching through her jeans, sending him over the edge. He grunted as he thrust into Em’s denim-clad softness. They ended together, and Em collapsed on his chest. Both of them started giggling, which quickly turned into laughter.
“Oh my lord, Mick. What are we? 16?” Em was still giggling.
“Yep, that’s about the last time I came in my pants,” Mick snorted.
“Oh no, that’s messy. Let me let you clean up.”
Em started to get off the couch, but Mick grabbed her by the neck and kissed her deeply, his eyes open to gaze at her orgasm-flushed face.
“Oh Jesus, it’s five a.m., Em. You’re going to be exhausted,” he said when he finished thoroughly kissing her.
Em continued to kiss his neck and his chin. “Stay with me,” she murmured. “We can just sleep.”
Mick pushed her gently away from him. They were still breathing hard. He ran his fingers over her cheek, her lips, her neck, planting kisses on her mouth.
“Girlie, you know very well that sleep is exactly what wouldn’t be happening.” He looked deeply into her eyes, willing her to understand.
“It’s okay, Mick. I understand, I think.” She kissed him on the mouth, and ran her fingers over his temple. “You need to get cleaned up. And you’re right, I need to rest a little so I’m not completely dead at work in...” she groaned, checking the wall clock, “...five hours.”
“It’s really okay? I...had a good time.” Mick threw himself back on the divan and guffawed.
Em giggled. “I had fun, too. Okay, shoo! If you stay much longer, I can’t promise I won’t beg you to get in my bed.” Mick let out a startled laugh at her forwardness. Em cocked her head at Mick, her gaze softening. “Get out of those jeans before they totally stick to you. Men are so gross.” She shuddered with mock disgust, following it up with a shy grin.
Mick got up from the couch, but leaned down and kissed her deeply, one last time. “See ya soon, Em,” he said with a wink as he went out the door, locking it behind him.
“Lock the deadbolt, girlie,” he called from outside the door.
Em locked the deadbolt and, looking through the peephole, was pleased that he waited to hear her engage the security lock before he returned to his apartment. She watched his retreating figure go down the stairs, then ran into her bedroom and threw herself on her bed, a huge grin on her face.
Chapter 19
Em made it into the office by 10:30 the next morning. She was somewhat surprised that she didn’t see Rory’s Maserati in the parking lot. The man was a machine, often going straight from the red-eye flight to the office and working a ten-hour day. Maybe he’d finally taken his own advice and was taking some time for himself.
Em drank her second cup of coffee and attempted to make sense of some proposed schematics, but her mind was nowhere near the office. Mick’s text inviting her for “supper at his place” didn’t help her concentration at all. She alternated between anticipation of a future encounter and memories of last night’s wrestling match.
The sound of Ashley’s voice pulled Em from her reverie. She wandered from her office, calling her friend’s name.
“Hey, Em,” chuckled Ashley, somewhat nervously. “There you are. I was in the neighborhood and thought you might like to get some lunch. I ran into Rory on my way to your office and stopped to thank him for inviting us to the show last night.” She smiled brightly at Rory.
“I’d love to, Ash. We have a lot to talk about. Let me grab my bag.” Em left the office, then ducked her head quickly back in. “Hey boss, nice of you to join us today.”
“So what’s got you so fired up, Em?” Ashley asked as they got in her car.
“We made out last night,” Em blurted.
“Now, when you say ‘made out’, what exactly do you mean?”
“I mean a tongue-wrestling, under-the-clothes groping, hip-grinding, solidly-second-base make-out session.”
“Did you come?”
“Ash, I came so hard I thought I was going to pass out.”
“And I am assuming he came as well?”
“In his pants, which is unfortunate,” Em grimaced.
“Ew.” Ashley made a face. “Was it weird after?”
“No, we were both laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the two of us dry-humping on the couch like a couple of horny teenagers. And he wants to cook me dinner tonight.”
“Ooh that’s a good sign!” Ashley grew thoughtful. “I am really happy for you, Em,” she said wistfully.
“So what about you, Ashley? Any new men?”
“Actually, there is someone, but I’m trying to be discreet for once, so no more questions.”
“One more question: do I know him?”
“I said, no more questions, Em!” Ashley’s mouth quirked into a grin. “But you do know what this means, right? We’re skipping lunch and going lingerie shopping!”
*****
Em and Mick sat side by side on the porch swing, Mick’s arm slung across the back of the swing and Em tucked into his shoulder.
“Dinner was so good, Mick. Thank you,” Em sighed She was full and contented.
“It was just pub food, but I’m glad you liked it.” Mick kissed the top of her head and gave the swing another soft push. Em had her hand on his leg and enjoyed the feel of his strong thigh as it flexed when he pushed off.
“‘Just pub food,’” Em scoffed. “That’s the fanciest pub food I’ve ever seen. I think of jalapeno poppers and fish and chips as pub food, not smoked salmon and capers and sliced hard-boiled eggs with little sprigs of garnish! Very impressive.”
“O
h, you’ll never have to worry about fish and chips with me. We lived off cod when I was a kid. I almost retch whenever I come near cod,” shuddered Mick. “My brothers were fishermen, yeah? Cod was cheap and mild and that’s about all we ever had, because they would drop it off at the house.” Mick looked mildly nauseated just talking about it.
“I’m sorry if I brought up bad memories,” Em said softly.
Mick kissed her temple. Hell, if he banned all things that brought up terrible memories from his childhood, no one would be able to talk to him about anything. “No worries, girlie. No worries at all.”
Mick settled Em further into him and rested his head against hers. “You must be wiped out. I know you didn’t go to bed until late and then you worked all day,” he said, his eyes closing as he reveled in the feeling of Em’s soft form nestled under his arm.
“Mmm, I’m awfully relaxed now between my full belly and you rocking this swing. It’s very nice.” Em had her arms wrapped around his waist, her fingers entwined at his hip. She knew she ought to leave before she nodded off right here on the swing, but she didn’t want to.
She turned her head to press her mouth against the side of Mick’s chest. She sighed contentedly, comfortable with just sitting his arms, rocking on the porch, not saying much.
She woke up hours later on Mick’s big leather sectional, covered in a light blanket and her head in his lap. The wet warmth on the hand that she had tucked under her face told her she had been drooling. Ooh, sexy, Em.
“Hey, sleepy,” whispered Mick with a smile. “I would have taken you upstairs, but I didn’t know if your place was locked.”
“I must have been more tired than I thought. How long have I been out?”
“A few hours.” A small lamp limned Mick’s silhouette, sparking the silver in his hair and beard. He stroked Em’s hair and ran a thumb over her plump bottom lip. Em pulled his thumb into her mouth, nipping the pad. She sat up, put her arms around his neck, and rested her head on his shoulder. He hugged her tightly, deeply inhaling the orange and vanilla scent of her hair.
“Okay, I’m going to head upstairs, Mick. Thank you again for dinner and spending your evening with me. Sorry I was a dud.”
“You weren’t a dud at all. Trust me, the pleasure was all mine.”
Em contorted herself into one of her feline stretches.
“What do you have going on this weekend? Maybe we could catch a show or something?” Em said hopefully.
Mick was very quiet for a few moments.
“Um, this weekend isn’t good.” Mick winced inwardly when he saw the disappointment flicker in Em’s eyes. “No, I mean, I’ve got some stuff going on and I’m not going to be good company this weekend.”
“No biggie. I’ll catch you soon, then,” Em said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “See you, Mick.”
“Let me walk you out.”
Mick rested his hand in the middle of her back. “See ya, Em,” he said, giving her a soft kiss on the cheek as she left his apartment.
Em walked up the stairs and across the landing to her apartment, thinking about the look of sadness that had crept into his face. Was he regretting their little make-out session?
They were moving awfully fast, maybe too fast. She needed to cool her jets with the physical stuff. She was insanely attracted to him, but hopefully, there would be time enough in the future for them to become more physically intimate.
Chapter 20
Mick’s B-day
Em noticed Rory’s bold handwriting from across the room. Was that why Mick had seemed somewhat melancholy last night? She knew he was a few years older than she was. Maybe 45 was hitting him hard?
Em chewed her lip. What to do? Should she acknowledge his birthday? If so, how? It was too early in their relationship for presents.
Once again, Em longed for mix tapes. That would be perfect for him. She laughed at the thought of giving Mick a homemade mix tape. The man made his living building recording studios and being a sound engineer. He wouldn’t be impressed with a mix tape that she’d made on her little boom box.
Maybe she could make him a cake? She knew he had a sweet tooth and that he really liked German chocolate cake. The faces and sounds he’d made when they had shared a slice of cake at the Basque place rivaled those that he made during their little snogfest.
Yes, that’s what she would do. She would make a mini-cake, just enough for the two of them. She didn’t think that was too pushy.
Em made a list of ingredients she needed for the cake. Her email pinged with a message from Rory, asking her to stop by his office before she left. She checked her watch, noting that if she left now, she’d have time to get the store before the rush. She gathered her bags and went to Rory’s office, hoping that whatever it was wouldn’t take long.
Rory’s door was mostly closed and she could hear him yelling at whoever he was talking to on the phone. She waited a few minutes, not wanting to interrupt, but when she heard his fist pound his desk, she knew the call was going to continue for longer than she wanted to wait.
She slipped out the door, resolving to call him after she got home while the cake was baking. She would take it to Mick’s before it got late and interrupted whatever plans he had for the evening.
Plans for the evening. What if he had a date? Shit. Maybe that’s why he’d started acting squirrelly last night. Shit shit damn. She didn’t want to interrupt a romantic birthday date. No one wanted to be alone on their birthday. Em was a big enough person to admit that she was a bit hurt that he hadn’t mentioned his birthday the night before, and she was sad that Mick obviously didn’t want to spend it with her. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all.
Fuck it. Live dangerously for once, Em. Take a risk.
Her decision made, Em strode through the parking lot.
Still on the phone with the unapologetic and very tardy vendor, Rory rapped loudly on the window, trying to get Em’s attention. Fuck, he thought. He really needed to give Em a heads up about what was going on with Mick this weekend. He’d seen her eyeballing his calendar and knew that she wouldn’t be able to resist doing something for Mick’s birthday. This could be really good or really bad. Fuck.
Rory checked the clock. It was still early. He’d call Em as soon as he got off this call, this frustratingly drawn-out call.
“What? No, that’s not acceptable, Jonathan. How much business have I given you over the past year? You need to cut me a deal. Run the numbers and get back with me tonight.”
Rory slammed the receiver down and immediately picked it back up and dialed Em’s cell phone. Damn, straight to voicemail. He debated calling Mick. The guy was so prickly, though Rory couldn’t really blame him, especially today of all days.
Rory dove for his cell phone when he heard the familiar chirp.
“Have you talked to Mick?” he barked without a greeting.
“No, I was calling to ask you if you’d talked to him,” Sheila Doyle replied. “And hello to you, son.”
“Sorry, Mam,” Rory apologized. “I’m worried. Mick’s not picking up. I’m trying to decide if it’s going to be better to go over there and check on him and piss him off or just ignore him and let him get it out of his system.”
“Well, I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t worried about him, but I might leave him be this year, Rory. What about that woman you said he was seeing? Do you know if they have plans?”
Rory sighed. “Not as far as I know. I don’t even think he told her about today. She’s the type to make him a cake and surprise him with it, though.”
“Maybe that’s just what he needs, Rory, some sweets and some sugar to dull the pain.”
“Mam! Are you suggesting that Mick get laid?” Rory laughed incredulously.
“I’m saying that sometimes if a man has had a hard time, he needs something soft to hold onto, that’s all.” Sheila sighed. “This is a rough day for all of us, but Mick, he’d already lost so much.”
“I know, Mam. I’ll call him again.�
��
“You’re such a good boy,” Sheila said, knowing that being called a boy irritated her son. “I’ll talk to you on Sunday as usual, okay, unless there’s a crisis.”
“Love ya, Mam.”
Rory rubbed his hands over his face and dialed Mick’s number. If he didn’t answer, Rory was going to go over there regardless of Mick’s request to be left alone. Hopefully he would find Mick at home, eating cake off of Em’s substantial cleavage.
“Fuck off, Rory. I’m fine. I’m not answering the phone again and don’t come over. Fuck.”
Okay, then. Mick was fine, or at least as fine as he was going to be.
Rory shook his head. He heard the tone of his email notification and saw that Jonathan had sent over the revised contracts. He might as well look them over, since he wasn’t going to have to play nursemaid tonight. He sat heavily in his chair, opened the email attachment, and began reading and marking up the paperwork.
*****
Mick clicked the off button on the phone and tossed it to the side.
He had started drinking early this year. Generally, he obeyed a strict one- or two-drink limit, but on this one day, the date that encompassed both the absolute best and the devastating worst that he had ever experienced, he didn’t limit himself.
Mick ran his fingers over the spines of the scrapbooks that Grace had so lovingly put together, and took another pull directly from the whiskey bottle. The alcohol burned going down but filled his gut with warmth and dulled the ache in his chest. Maybe because he’d started drinking early this year, the pain didn’t seem as bad. Or maybe he was finally getting over her.
Mick leaned his head on the back of the couch, and inhaled, then exhaled. It seemed like both just yesterday and a hundred years ago that all he could manage was to breathe. Those first few weeks, after, he’d sat on the couch while Rory and his parents called to check on him and popped in and out of the brownstone, delivering food that spoiled in the refrigerator and rotted on the counter.
