He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

by Iris Morland

  “Yes. Please.”

  “My shy little wife. Let me see that pretty pink pussy.”

  He slowly parted my folds, displaying me fully. His gaze didn’t waver as he took in that part of me that even David hadn’t looked at. I couldn’t breathe.

  Liam slowly stroked a finger from my clit to right before my butt. He found the gathered moisture seeping from my sheath, groaning when it coated his fingers.

  “Tilt your hips toward me,” he said. “That’s it. God, you’re beautiful. Don’t you know that? Your fiancé didn’t deserve this tight little pussy. He should’ve been eating every day, morning till night.”

  “That sounds a bit excessive.”

  “How would you know?” Liam countered.

  I whimpered, because he was right. I whimpered even more when Liam licked me from taint to clit, returning to thrust his tongue inside me. The sensation—how could I describe it? It was like I could feel his tongue along the entirety of my body.

  He lapped at me then, sucking my juices into his mouth. He groaned when I began to quiver against his mouth. The feeling of his beard against my thighs, his warm tongue, his rough fingers—I wouldn’t last.

  How had I ever thought oral sex was awkward? I’d had no idea. I was like a virgin on her wedding night.

  Cause of death: cunnilingus. Convicted killer: Liam Gallagher, pussy-eating champion.

  I felt the orgasm building deep inside my belly. My nipples were painfully tight buds pressing against my bra, and I couldn’t take in enough air. It was like stepping closer and closer to the edge of a cliff. Except instead of jumping and breaking my neck, it was jumping and losing complete control of my body.

  Liam sucked my clit between his lips. Such a small thing, my clit, yet it seemed to contain an entire planet. And Liam was my sun, and I was caught in his orbit no matter how hard I tried to avoid it.

  His dark head between my thighs, the sound of his tongue lapping at my pussy—all of it combined and suddenly my orgasm burst inside me. I cried out. Liam had to hold me up as I shook so hard I was pretty sure my bones had basically melted.

  I’d be a jelly person for the rest of my life now solely from the best orgasm I’d ever been given.

  “There you go,” soothed Liam, kissing my thighs, petting my pussy as my release slowly tapered away. He then said something I didn’t understand—something in Gaelic. He repeated the foreign word a second time before he kissed me hard.

  I wanted to ask him what it meant, but Liam kissing me was too much of a distraction. I’d ask him later. Right now, I wanted very much to discover more about his body, especially the cock straining against his jeans.

  And then the doorbell rang. We both jumped in surprise. The sound reverberated throughout the apartment.

  Liam frowned. “Who the fuck is that?”

  My brain was too melted to put together that the doorbell ringing meant a human being was outside.

  “Maybe they’ll go away,” I ventured.

  The doorbell rang a second time. Then a third. Then it was ringing like an alarm, ding, ding, diiing, dingdingdiiiiiiiiiiiing.

  Liam swore and muttered to me, “Put your trousers back on,” before marching to the door.

  I managed to get my pants and panties back on before following Liam to the door. The doorbell stopped ringing when he wrenched the front door open.

  “What the—” He stopped. I looked over his shoulder to see a young girl soaked to the skin right outside.

  Through her chattering teeth, the girl said scathingly, “Took you long enough to open the door! I’m dying out here!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Liam

  “Niamh,” I said, totally at a loss. “The bloody hell are you doing here?”

  It was Mari who had the sense to usher my soaking-wet sister into the apartment. When had it started raining? When you were licking your wife’s pussy, that’s when.

  “What’s your name again?” said Mari to my sister.

  “Niamh,” said Niamh slowly, her teeth still chattering. “Like ‘weave’ except it starts with an ‘n.’”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Niamh. Let’s get you out of those wet clothes.”

  “I can do it myself,” groused Niamh. “I know where the bathroom is. I don’t even know who you are, though.”

  Niamh headed to the bathroom and shut the door hard enough that I winced.

  What the hell was my teenage sister doing here? Did Uncle Henry and Aunt Siobhan know? It was a two-hour drive from Olympia, and it was a school night. There was no way they would’ve let her come here.

  I checked my phone, only to realize the battery had died. Plugging it in, the screen filled with missed calls and texts from my aunt and uncle.

  Do you know where Niamh is? She’s not answering her phone.

  I sighed. My little sister must’ve got angry and driven here in a fit of teenage rebellion.

  Just what I didn’t fucking need.

  “Sorry about this,” I said to Mari, who was looking concerned as I scrolled through my phone. I realized I hadn’t explained who Niamh even was. “She’s my sister.”

  Mari’s lips twitched into a smile. “I figured as much. She looks just like you.”

  “She does?” Niamh was small and delicate, where I was the opposite. The only physical traits we shared were our dark eyes and hair, and her hair was blue now. I shrugged. “I need to make some calls.”

  By the time I’d talked to Aunt Siobhan to assure her that Niamh was safe at my place, Niamh had emerged from the bathroom in Mari’s robe. Mari was at least seven inches taller, so the robe trailed on the floor behind my sister like a queen’s train.

  “She just got here. Yeah. I don’t know. We haven’t got that far yet.” I held out the phone to Niamh. “Aunt Siobhan wants to talk to you.”

  Niamh scowled. “Tell her I don’t want to talk to her ever again.”

  Save me from dramatic teenage girls. Sighing, I conveyed the message, assuring our aunt that I’d take care of this and get Niamh back home as soon as I could, even if I had to drag her there myself.

  Mari sat on the couch next to Niamh, her hands folded in her lap. It was hard to believe just a few minutes ago I had my mouth on her pussy, and she was coming against my tongue. She was still a little flushed from her orgasm. If Niamh hadn’t interrupted us, we’d be in my bed and fucking six ways to Sunday.

  I sat down in front of Niamh, giving her a stern look.

  “How about you explain what the hell you’re doing here?”

  Niamh’s bottom lip trembled. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “You don’t get to show up here in the middle of the night and not explain why.”

  Niamh tilted her chin up. “It’s not the middle of the night. It’s only ten-thirty.”

  “You don’t get to be a smart-ass right now. Not when everyone is royally pissed with you.”

  “How pissed?”

  “Aunt Siobhan sounded like she’d been crying, for one. She was freaking out. She was about to call the police and file a missing person’s report.”

  Niamh went white. “It’s only been a few hours!”

  “You’re a minor. Doesn’t matter.”

  My sister crossed her arms over her chest, a mulish expression on her face. I saw Mari smile out of the corner of my eye.

  When I shot my wife a look, her smile widened. “You guys look just like each other. Especially when you do that.”

  I realized both me and my sister were scowling, mirror images of each other.

  In unison, we snapped, “No, we don’t.”

  Niamh swiveled to face Mari. Her nose wrinkled. “Who are you exactly?”

  I hadn’t told Niamh about the Mari situation because how did you explain that to a teenager? But I couldn’t get out of it now. Great. Just fucking great.

  Before I could explain, Mari said calmly, “I’m Mari. Your brother’s girlfriend.”

  I had to mask my surprise that Mari called herself my gi
rlfriend instead of my wife. Then again, she was wise to ease Niamh into this. I hadn’t planned to tell Niamh about this thing at all. Now that she knew Mari was my girlfriend, our aunt and uncle would know, and the story would just get more complicated from there.

  Niamh said to me, “He never told me he had a girlfriend. And we just saw each other. Wait, are you living here?” Niamh turned to me, incensed. “How could you not tell me about this? You never let girls move in with you. You said they get needy and want you to propose, and you don’t believe in that shit—”

  “Watch your mouth, young lady. I don’t need to explain myself to you. You’re the one who needs to explain why you ran away from home,” I said.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  I wanted to bash my head against the wall. Or maybe throttle my sister.

  To my relief, Mari intervened to say, “Then maybe you should go to bed, and we can talk in the morning.”

  “I don’t want to talk to you. You’re not my mom,” was Niamh’s reply.

  At that, I snapped, “Now you’re just being a brat. Either be nice or you can go to bed, because you’re not going to talk to Mari like that.”

  Niamh’s eyes filled with tears. “I hate you!”

  She went to the second bedroom and slammed the door shut with a bang.

  Both Mari and I winced. Then I winced when I remembered all of Mari’s stuff was in that room.

  What a fucking disaster this was. And when did my seventeen-year-old sister become four again? It made zero sense.

  “I’m sorry. She’s usually not like this.” I rubbed my jaw. I’d been clenching it so hard I could feel a headache forming. “She’s usually more mature than this. I don’t know what’s going on.”

  “How old is she?” said Mari quietly.

  “Seventeen. Too old to be throwing a fit, that’s for sure.”

  “My sisters used to be like that when they were teenagers. Kate especially. She had a short temper, and when she got angry it was like a hurricane. My parents never knew what to do with her. It’s easy to think teenagers are adults when they try hard to act like one.”

  “I can’t imagine that you were like that, though.”

  Mari had a faraway look on her face. “No, but sometimes I wished I had been. I tend to keep my emotions locked down deeply. But they always come bubbling up eventually. That’s why they’re dangerous if you don’t deal with them head on.”

  “It helps if you don’t have any feelings, like me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “No one is more dead inside than the guy staying married to a woman he doesn’t love solely for his sister’s benefit.”

  “I’m not a hero.” Looking Mari up and down, her cheeks still a little red from earlier, I added, “Besides, there are some benefits for me. It’s not like you’re forcing me to eat your pussy, sweetheart.”

  Mari shushed me and pushed at my shoulder. “Keep your voice down! And don’t be gross.”

  “Not gross, just honest.”

  I wanted to haul her into my lap and kiss her, but I could hear Niamh pacing in her room. I didn’t need my teenage sister to burst into the living room to see us making out. She’d never let me live it down. And she was in such a strange mood that it wasn’t worth poking the hormonal, adolescent bear.

  “I don’t get it,” I repeated, mostly to myself. “Niamh isn’t usually like this. She’s smart. Responsible. She’s applying to Harvard and Yale and a bunch of other schools, for Christ’s sake. She doesn’t do stupid shite, which is why I haven’t had to worry about her.”

  I felt the worry weigh down my shoulders. I was leaving Seattle after she got into university—that was the plan. Niamh would start university, and I could move on with my life. She would be an adult and have her inheritance, too.

  And besides, I could hardly stay here when Mari would be living in the city. Seattle was big, but that didn’t mean we wouldn’t run into each other.

  It was always easier to make a clean break of things.

  And if my chest ached at the thought of never seeing Mari again? That was my own damn problem. More than likely it was from my never-ending case of blue balls where she was concerned.

  “Where should I sleep tonight?” said Mari, breaking through my depressing thoughts. “I’m supposed to be your girlfriend now, according to your sister…”

  I grimaced. Shite, fuck, shite. “You can sleep in my bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  “And what happens if Niamh sees you? She’ll know something is up.”

  “I’ll tell her we’ve taken a vow of abstinence.”

  Mari clucked her tongue. “What would you Irish say? ‘Don’t be daft?’ We can share a bed.”

  “Sweetheart, if I’m lying in bed next to you,” I said in my deepest Irish brogue, “I’m gonna put my cock in you.”

  “Then I’ll wear my tightest Spanx to bed. No one can get them off of me. They’re basically a chastity belt.”

  I moved closer to her until I could feel her breath puff against my chin. “I’d find a way, a ghrá geal. I can promise you that.”

  The endearment slipped from my tongue for the third time that night. When I’d first said it, I had barely realized it had come out of my mouth. My bright one.

  I was a stupid arse for saying it again, because now Mari was going to keep asking me what it meant.

  “I hope that means something nicer than that vampire monster woman you accused me of being before,” she said.

  I was about to lie through my teeth when Niamh came out of her room and said to Mari in the meekest voice I’d ever heard, “Can I borrow some pajamas? I forgot mine.”

  I wish I could say that Mari and I fucked when she stayed in my room that night.

  But that would have made sense. That would’ve been what anyone would have expected. Even me. I hadn’t lied when I’d said if she were in bed with me, I wasn’t going to lie there like a chaste nun.

  When I came into my bedroom and found Mari curled up on the right side, her red hair in a bun and her face clean of makeup, I went instantly hard.

  Yet when I slid into bed next to her, she said, “We’re not having sex.”

  My cock withered. “Why the fuck not?”

  She gave me a look that could only be described as wifely. “This apartment is tiny. Your sister will hear us.”

  “Then you’ll just have to be quiet.”

  Mari snorted. “Will it make you feel better if I say that there’s no way I could manage to stay quiet?”

  I could’ve beaten on my chest right then in triumph. “You aren’t wrong,” I rumbled. “I did make you scream. Multiple times.”

  “Scream is a bit hyperbolic. More like ‘cry out.’”

  “Sweetheart, call it whatever you like, but you just admitted that you can’t keep quiet when I touch you. Which means I have to see how loud I can get you to be now.”

  Mari groaned. She yanked the covers to her shoulders and proceeded to tuck the blanket around her body like a butterfly in a cocoon.

  “If you really don’t want me to touch you,” I said with a touch of asperity, “I won’t.”

  “This isn’t for you; it’s for me.”

  I snorted. Punching my pillow, I lay down away from her, but it didn’t help. I could hear every shift, every breath. I could smell her. She smelled like coconuts, and it annoyed me deeply. How the fuck was I supposed to avoid touching her when she smelled like being on holiday all the damn time?

  “I’m gonna die from blue balls,” I complained.

  To which Mari replied, “Nobody dies from lack of sex. Stop complaining and go to sleep.”

  Despite my wife’s command, I didn’t sleep a wink that night. My only consolation was that when she got up, she looked as tired as me.

  While Mari got ready for work, Niamh emerged from her room, yawning widely.

  “It’s so early!” she whined. “Why are you guys awake?”

  “Some people have to go to work. And you should be in school. I
n case you forgot,” I said.

  “It’s just one day.”

  “You’re graduating soon. You can’t be skipping school, Niamh. How the hell are you gonna get into Harvard or Yale or wherever if you do shite like this?”

  Niamh didn’t answer. Instead, she headed to the kitchen and began to scrounge around like a raccoon. I was drinking my first cup of coffee, staring out onto foggy Elliott Bay, when I heard crunching noises behind me.

  “You gonna tell me why you drove all the way here?” I said finally.

  Niamh sighed. “It’s all Aunt Siobhan’s fault.”

  Aunt Siobhan was a hard-ass, but she wasn’t cruel. Niamh, though, had a tendency to push boundaries. I’d probably given her her way too often when she’d been little, especially once I’d realized how attached she was to me.

  When she’d get upset that I was going somewhere, I’d let her come with me as often as I could. When she’d wanted to sleep in my bed with me, I’d given in and let her. Between working all the time and caring for my little sister, it wasn’t like I’d been knee-deep in women anyway. Now, though, Niamh had the expectation that she’d always get what she wanted.

  “We got into a fight on Monday,” began Niamh between crunches of cereal. “I bought this top at the mall, and I was going to wear it to school. But Aunt Siobhan freaked out. She said it was way too tight.”

  Niamh scowled. “It wasn’t that tight. And it’s not like I have boobs so I didn’t have tons of cleavage. Girls at school wear way worse things.”

  “You’re telling me you ran away over a piece of clothing?”

  Niamh flushed. “No! It was what it represented.”

  “Oh, now we’re getting symbolic.”

  “You don’t get it. Aunt Siobhan keeps trying to control me. Everything I wear, say, do—she doesn’t like it. If I wear a dress that’s above the knee, she acts like I’ve killed someone. If I stay out past eleven, she freaks out and thinks I’m gonna do drugs or have sex. She even went through my closet a month ago and threw out all the clothes she thought were slutty.”

  Niamh’s lower lip trembled. “She says it’s because I never go to mass with her anymore. That I’ll end up being like one of those bad girls. Which is so unfair! My grades are perfect! I don’t even do anything bad—not really, anyway. It’s not like I’m getting pregnant after school!”