by Emelia Blair
Moments later, he exits the room, and I see that while he put on the sweatpants, he isn’t wearing the shirt, the towel hanging from his neck, his hair wet, raked back by his fingers.
He has a narrow waist, and there is a tattoo that extends over his left arm, circling onto his shoulder, and settling on his chest. Speaking of his chest, it is broad and defined, and I feel my mouth become dry.
Even the sight of the bruise on his ribs doesn’t distract me from the realization that I am too attracted to him.
He sees me staring and smirks at me. “See something you like?”
I try to compose myself. “I see that you didn’t wear the shirt I gave you.”
“It’s too small.”
I bite my tongue.
He cleaned up his face, but I can still see the purplish bruise on his cheek, and my heart feels heavy, my hand reaching up to grace his cheek gently with my fingers. “Who were they? Why did they hurt you?”
Before I can retreat, his larger hand grasps my smaller one, and he presses a kiss to the center of my palm, his eyes serious. “They were Street Serpents, but not ones I had seen before. It was an ambush. They were waiting for me outside the restaurant.”
I can’t help it. “Is this my fault?”
He gives me a strained look. “I wouldn’t be so quick to say that.”
He hasn’t let go of my hand, and as I stand there, our bodies inches apart, I find it doesn’t bother me.
“I don’t like you getting hurt.” I recognize the mulish tone to my words, and he grins at me, his expression soft.
“Really? Why not?”
I make a small sound. “I just don’t. I’ve decided, next time I come to the bar, from tomorrow, I’m going to pretend you’re a stranger. That way the Street–”
“That’s ridiculous.” Fergus scowls at me. “You can’t just ignore me when you’re there.”
“Look what they did to you!” I argue, gesturing towards the bruises on his form. “I’m not letting you get hurt because of me. I’m practically a stranger to you!”
Fergus narrows his eyes at me. “I have a feeling you don’t go around kissing every stranger you see. So, forget it.”
My cheeks flame at his words, and I splutter.
Before I can get a word in, he covers my mouth with his hands, his eyes gleaming. “If you think I’m going to let you ignore me, Sarah, you have another thing coming. For some weird, unfathomable reason, I can’t seem to leave you alone. You’re constantly in my head. I can’t stop thinking about you. So, I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you sit in my bar, alone, so that every man in the vicinity can come and hit on you.”
I stagger under the weight of his words.
He can’t stop thinking about me?
I gaze up at him, my eyes wide, and then use my hands to push his hand away.
I never realized that I like to play with fire.
I tuck my tongue in my cheek, a slow grin forming on my lips. “It sounds like you have a crush on me.”
7
Fergus
I stare at the woman before me, a delightful exasperation filing my soul.
Trust her to say something like that.
Barely a week of knowing her, and I know that letting her go would be one of the hardest things I would have to do. But right now, as she stands in front of me, a hint of defiance in her form, mixed with some level of mischievous naivety, I can’t help but drag her to me.
My mouth slants over hers in a kiss that is as deep as it is raw.
Her dainty hands press against my chest for support, and I dig my hands into her thick hair, holding it to me in fistfuls. I sip from her mouth before pushing my tongue in and exploring the hot crevices. I lick and suck, my tongue plays with hers, and I enjoy her helpless little moans when I suck on her tongue, encouraging her to play with me.
Her mouth moves, hesitantly, uncertain, and when she sucks on my lower lip, where there is a small wound, I enjoy the bite of the pain. My cock hardens from the inexperienced way she tries to kiss me back, and I pull her head back by her hair with a gentle tug and start planting wet kisses on her jaw and neck.
The small sounds she makes turn me on, and I don’t think she realizes how wild she drives me. I press small bites into her delicate skin, wanting to leave marks to show the world that she is mine.
Her nails rake over my chest as she writhes in my hold and one of them accidentally brushes over my nipple, making me groan and bite down on the junction where her shoulder and neck meet.
She doesn’t shy away from the pain, just cries out, a hot sound that spurs me on.
She is wearing a short blouse which has buttons that are closed to cover her breasts.
Oh, I enjoy popping those open.
Her bountiful breasts are held up by her bra and squeezed together, showing me delectable skin, making my mouth water. I could worship those two perfect globes all day long and never tire.
I walk her back as my mouth keeps her occupied, and my hands cup her bra-clad breasts, squeezing the soft flesh, my thumbs running over nipples, which harden at the touch.
From the corner of my eye, I see her bedroom door and guide her to it, forcing her backward as my mouth descends on the top of her exposed breasts. I lick them and press open-mouthed kisses on them, making her whimper.
I feel when her knees hit the bed, and she topples backward onto it.
I drag her into a sitting position. Her dazed expression, which is filled with lust and trepidation, drives me wild, and I have the blouse off of her in a heartbeat.
I make a quick work of the red bra that she wears until she is finally sitting before me, her upper body naked for my pleasure.
I take one dusky nipple into my mouth and suck on it. I feel it harden in my mouth even more, if that is possible, and she cries out my name, her hands in my hair now, keeping me there.
I take her hands and force them palm down on the bed on either side of her.
Stealing another wet kiss from her, I tell her with a husky voice, “Don’t move your hands.”
She obeys and throws her head back as I suck on her nipples and tease them and pinch them. Her moans are helpless, and when I bite down on one of the nipples, a little harder, I feel her lower body twitch as she lets out a short scream.
My hand on her stomach, I push her down on the bed so that she is half lying on it. I quickly drag off her jeans and discard them.
“Your panties are red, too? Are you trying to kill me?” I ask, hoarsely.
She makes a small choking sound of laughter and then whimpers when I drag one thick finger over where her pussy’s slit is, over the red silk.
It is so wet already, and it pleases me to see the effect I have on her.
I slide the panties down her legs, throwing them over my shoulder. Then, my hands on her knees, while I kneel in front of her, I pull her legs apart.
She lets out a startled cry. “What are you…?”
I stare at the shaved pussy as it gleams with her juices, and I want my mouth on it. I must have stared at it for too long because she tries to close her legs, mumbling, “Don’t look at it like that. Please.”
“Why not?” I asked, bluntly. “You’re so wet.”
I run a hand over the slit of her pussy and gather the juices on my finger. Leaning over to where she is half sitting, using her forearms for support, I command, “Open your mouth.”
Her lips part, and I feed her the juices on my finger.
Her eyes close and her chest heaves as she sucks and licks my finger clean.
My smile is slow. “That’s what you taste like. And I think I’m starving.”
Her eyes widen at my implication but before she can say anything, my hands are on her thighs, and my face is buried in her pussy.
The scream she lets out is music to my ears.
I lick, and I suck, my tongue lashing at the small nub that lays there exposed. It hardens under my tongue and every time I flick it, Sarah’s body writhes, and she cries out.<
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I stick my tongue into her pussy and then curl it, rubbing against her g-spot.
If I weren’t been holding her down, she would fly off the bed with how wild she is under my hands. Her whimpers increase in volume as I tease her relentlessly. She moves under my hands, restlessly begging. I slurp her juices, swallowing everything I get.
When her inner muscles tighten around my tongue and she comes with a sobbing cry, I don’t stop, letting her ride out the orgasm with my tongue still fucking her.
“Fergus!”
My name on her lips is the desperate cry of a woman who wants more, and as soon as she starts coming down from her high, I use my fingers to rub her hardened clit in rough motions, making her scream hoarsely as she falls apart again, her lower body twitching.
I pull my mouth away from her, then lick a trail from her stomach to her breasts where I use my hands to cup them and take her nipples into my mouth, one at a time. I know that by tomorrow, she will be sporting my marks all over her pale skin.
She is heaving, gasping for breath when I finally reach her mouth. I kiss her gently, and she moans into my mouth when I use my fingers to penetrate her as my mouth makes love to hers.
One finger moves slowly inside her, in and out, in a constant rhythm. Her breath comes faster, and I insert another finger, two fingers plunging in and out of her, the pace increasing. She breaks the kiss, her head leaning back, and I watch the expressions on her face, fascinated by them.
When I insert a third finger, she whimpers, her body moving in tandem, trying to get off on just my fingers.
“Your body is so responsive, A ghrá,” I whisper against her ear. “I just sucked your nipples, and you got so wet. I’m just fucking you with my hand, and you’re dripping all over the ground.”
Her moan is long, and I plant a wet kiss on her throat. “If you want my cock, you’ll have to ask for it.”
Her lips part and I suck on her jaw. “It’s not that hard. All you have to do is ask me to fuck you with my cock.”
Her breathing is hard, and as I meet her gaze, I see the defiance in her beautiful green eyes.
Her breath is harsh as she pants. “No. I won’t beg. I can use my own hands–”
I don’t let her finish her sentence, the image of her using her hands to get her off snapping the last thread that has been holding me back.
My cock thrusts into her, and she screams, her pussy tightening around it, making me strain not to lose my load like a teenager.
I wait to get a grip on myself before pushing forward.
She garbles out my name, whimpering.
My movements are slow at first, just establishing a steady pace. However, I know that I can’t keep this up for long, and I start fucking her pussy with long, hard thrusts, making sure she feels everything.
It is having the intended effect because her cries don’t stop.
My hands roam over the curves of her body, and I feel myself harden even more inside of her. Using my hands, I put them under her back and lift her, till her legs are wrapped around my back and her arms around my neck. Her breasts bounce as I fuck her, standing up.
Putting my mouth to good use, I take one nipple in my mouth while my cock picks up speed and starts jackhammering inside her pussy, making her scream my name over and over again as I fuck her without mercy.
She comes again, and this time her orgasm rolls into another one, and I feel the exhaustion in her limbs. However, I am just as close. My hips piston against her and I groan as I reach my climax. One press against her hardened nub has her falling apart again, and I follow soon after, releasing within her.
I let her drop onto the bed, and I collapse next to her, my heart racing.
Her breathing is harsh pants. “I… didn’t know sex could be this good.”
“What?” I stare at her, trying to get my heartbeat back to normal.
Sarah stares at the ceiling, her eyes dazed. “I don’t… I haven’t had… it’s been a long time for me.”
I scoff. “Good.”
She immediately smacks me in the chest, and I chuckle and then roll over so that my face is nestled against her stomach. “Really? It’s been so long?”
Her fingers rake through my hair, but she doesn’t look at me. “I never had the time. And I never found anyone that made me feel all the things you do. Is that too weird?”
My lips curve. “You’re not weird.”
She is quiet for a few moments before she says silkily, “Fergus?”
I pull the blankets around us and make a questioning sound.
“We’ve known each other for less than a week, and we had sex. Does this mean this is a one-night stand?”
I sense the disquiet in her, and I lean over her. “You could never be a one-night stand to me, Sarah.”
She doesn’t look very convinced. “Oh.”
I chuckle. “I’ve had one-night stands. Trust me; this wasn’t it.”
She shifts uneasily, and I can see the way she is struggling to stay awake. “I don’t sleep around with men. You’re just – You started it!”
I chuckle against her skin. “Well, you kissed me first.”
She yawns. “That’s because, well, I don’t know why I did that.”
I felt her fingers in my hair, and for the first time in a very long time, I felt my body relax and my mind empty. “Well, I know why I did this.”
“Why?” She is half asleep.
“Because you cast my demons away with just a smile,” I murmur to her as her eyes slide shut, unable to hold up against the sleep creeping in. “Because since the day we’ve met, when you’re near me, I feel like laughter comes easier to me.”
I press a kiss to her jaw and let myself follow her into sleep.
I don’t think I’ll be able to let go of you, Sarah.
I anticipated that the morning after would be awkward for her. However, I did not expect to be woken up amidst a flurry of activity as she rushes around the bedroom, trying to get dressed and have breakfast at the same time.
Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I watch her rush around the room in a bra and panties, chucking clothes from her closet, looking for something to wear. A piece of toast is clenched between her teeth, and I can see the cup of coffee that teeters dangerously near the edge of the bedside table, one inch from crashing on the floor.
“Sarah?”
She gives me a horrified look. “I’m so sorry! Did I wake you?”
“You would’ve woken Sleeping Beauty from her coma with the amount of noise you’re making. What’s going on?” I pull the sheet up to my waist and watch her toss out a perfectly nice yellow blouse.
I pick it up, fingering the material as she says, “Picture day. I just saw the email from the school. I need something dark blue or black. I don’t own a single dark blue shirt!”
I watch her throw out a white shirt, and I catch it deftly. “Do you have a black or blue coat, a short one? And pants of the same shade?”
She turns around to look at me, warily. “Yes.”
I neatly lay out the shirt on the bed. “White shirt, blue coat, and trousers. You’re set.”
She blinks. “I thought it was supposed to be all blue or all black.”
I grin. “I’m starting to question your fashion choices.”
Climbing out of bed, I watch her cheeks turn red at seeing me bare, and she immediately turns around.
I walk around the bed, grab her gently by the neck, and pull her forward for a kiss. When I let go of her, she staggers, her eyes dazed.
“Good morning,” I smile to her, and she opens her mouth to say it back before lifting a finger, asking me to wait.
Getting her breath back, she suddenly smacks me in the chest. “No sneak attacks!”
Laughing at her, I walk towards the bathroom. A quick shower later, I pull on the sweatpants that I tossed off last night and which now lay neatly folded on Bryan’s bed.
Walking into the kitchen, I frown, remembering the toast I saw in her mouth. I hop
e that isn’t her breakfast.
Rolling up my imaginary sleeves, I get to work.
After graduating from college, I enrolled myself in a variety of culinary schools, one after the other. Then I jumped to working under the best chefs, learning what I could, retaining what I wanted.
But, as I hum under my breath, throwing in eggs to make an omelet and making some sweet French toast, it occurs to me that I have never once cooked for a woman I went out with.
I never dated exclusively, never having the time to focus on a relationship, but with Sarah, I want to treasure her. I have never met someone like her, so eager and full of life. I don’t know what I am trying to do or how to go about it.
I frown as I plate some of the eggs.
Sleeping with her after just a week of knowing her probably wasn’t a good idea. I should ask her out.
I sigh.
She still thinks I am a bartender. How am I going to get out of that one, without her accusing me of lying to her?
Hearing footsteps, I pick up the plates and put them on the table.
Sarah looks hesitant. “You didn’t have to make breakfast.”
I point to the toast in her hand. “Throw that away. How do you burn toast?”
She glares at me. “Not everyone has magic culinary skills. Some are born to be dunces in the kitchen to make people like you feel better about yourself.”
I grin at her. “Ouch.”
“Come on. Eat something. How’s your headache?” I ask her.
She sits down at the table, and I see her fingers move quickly over her hair as she weaves it into a long and thick braid, effectively tying the end with some rubber band.
I quickly sit down to hide my hardening cock.
Even this one simple act makes me hard around her. I bit back my groan. I will never be able to watch her get dressed. The desire to take her and rumple her back up would be too great.
Sarah didn't notice my preoccupation, and she blushes slightly. “Well, ah, it kind of disappeared after you showed up.”
