by Jessie Jones
Duff turned his head to hide his own smile as he motioned the driver of the car to go. His face was void of all emotion when he turned back to look at her and said, "John just went into a meeting and is not to be disturbed, sweetheart. If you really want a burger, I can call ahead and have Ramsey make you one at home. The man is a Michelin star chef after all. I think he can manage a burger and some fries."
Ignoring Duff's little speech, Gillian sat back in her seat and said to the driver, "Take us to Brixton, Adrian. That's an order."
Duff rolled his eyes and said to the driver in Spanish, "She's the new lady of the manor, mate, so do as she says. It's her pretty ass that will get the beating, not yours." The Scottish man then looked at Gillian and shrugged. "You want a burger from Brixton, then, by all means, let's get you a dirty little waffle. It's your funeral, lovey. When you eat standing up the next couple of days, just remember I warned you."
"Well, then, I suggest we not tell him about the burger run." Gillian smiled, licking her full, nude colored lips as she demurely crossed her legs. "John is in Germany, Duff. If we don't tell him, then he won't know we didn't follow the orders. It's a burger, my big protector, not nuclear secrets. You're telling me John is going to be pissed because we went out to eat? I don't believe it."
"Too late now, lovey. You've already set the crime into motion. Johnny didn't get to the top of the food chain by letting others step all over his scrota, and he won't let you just because he loves you. He's the man, you're the woman…remember that."
"That's so sexist, Duff McKay. I feel sorry for your future wife," Gillian replied as she played with the ring John had given her in France. Would John really be that angry at her for going to grab a bite to eat? Surely, he wouldn't. Again, she had all the guards with her and was not putting herself in any kind of danger. John clearly liked control of all things, but Duff was probably just trying to scare her. With a side glance at Duff, she asked, "Does this go back to that punishment crap you mentioned John dishing out earlier? I know he likes to threaten an ass whooping every now and then, but would he hurt me? I think you're just trying to freak me out."
With an arrogant grin on his handsome face, Duff vaguely repeated, "As I said earlier, Gillian, it's your funeral, and that's all I'm going to say. After all, I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise."
"Asshole!" Gillian barked, crossing her arms over her chest as she turned away from Duff to stare out the window. Her annoyance quickly turned to happiness as they passed all the Christmas displays being set up and turned on. Gillian absolutely loved Christmas! Although she had never really had a family or friends to celebrate with, she decorated her apartment every year. Gillian also made a small meal for herself from scratch and unwrapped a present. Her thoughts immediately drifted to John and Patrick. Did the two men celebrate Christmas? She had not seen any decorations at Kenric Manor, but then it was only the second week of November. Would John allow her to decorate his home? A warm, fuzzy feeling spread through her body as she thought about sharing Christmas with the two men. It would be the first time in her life that she had a family. Maybe she could convince the two giants to create their own private winter wonderland.
"Don't be mad at me, lovey." Duff smiled as he put his arm around her shoulder. When she didn't acknowledge him, he asked, "What are you thinking about?"
"I was just thinking about Christmas and how much I enjoy it," Gillian replied, finally looking into Duff's mismatched, colored eyes. "I can't wait to see all of London lit up and decorated. The holiday seems to make everyone just a little nicer somehow. What about you? Do you celebrate Christmas?"
"No," Duff answered honestly. "Never had a reason to, actually."
"Oh," Gillian said, not expecting his response. "Did your folks celebrate it?"
"My mum was a heroin addicted prostitute who was more concerned about her next hit than she was about me," the Scottish man replied as he rubbed his bearded chin. "We barely had money for a loaf of bread, let alone presents and a tree. She died when I was three, so we didn't get to spend much time together."
"Duff, I'm so sorry. I didn't know," Gillian said as she put her hand lovingly on his knee to comfort him. She knew his life had been hard, but she could not have imagined how horrible it was. "When your mother died, is that when they put you in the orphanage with John and Patrick?"
"It was. I never knew my father, don't even know if my mum did, really. There was no one else who wanted me, so they sent me to St. Vincent."
"Did the orphanage celebrate Christmas? I would think, with it being a Catholic organization, they would."
"I can see why you would think that, but there was nothing godly about the priests who ran it. I do remember each Christmas, this group bringing us lads a tree, presents, the whole shebang. However, the moment they left, it was thrown in the fire and burned. Apparently, little bastards like us didn't deserve those things, or so they told us. After the orphanage was destroyed, the three of us were too focused on making our fortunes. We barely stopped to piss, let alone celebrate Christmas. Patrick said something once about starting up some type of holiday tradition, but nothing ever happened with that."
Gillian's heart ached for John, Patrick, and Duff. She felt the tears stinging her emerald eyes as the Scottish man told his story. She noticed that as Duff talked, he would not look at her. Gillian wanted to comfort him, but she wasn't sure if he wanted it. If Duff had grown up in such a horrible existence, then she could not even imagine what had happened to John and Patrick. She knew very little about their past, but she wanted to know so much more. Deciding to force herself on the Scotsman, Gillian wrapped her arms around one of his meaty biceps and laid her head on his shoulder. She felt Duff immediately relax into her touch, but she could tell by the look on his handsome face that he was done talking about the topic.
"You know, Duff, we can't change the past, but we can change today. I say, since none of us have ever really had a real Christmas, we do it up right this year. I can decorate the manor, go shopping for some presents, and cook a big dinner. Would you like that?"
Duff placed a tender kiss on Gillian's soft, black hair. John's woman was amazing! Could he ever be lucky enough to find a woman like her? Resting his head on hers, Duff smiled. "I would like that. The real question, though, is how would Johnny and Pat feel about it?"
"You leave that part up to me," Gillian responded, returning the smile. "By the time I'm done, those men will be putty in my hands, or so I hope. Just to be safe, don't tell them I said that."
Duff chuckled in response as the car pulled up to the small restaurant. He then pulled out his cell phone and called his second in command to bark off a few orders before he looked at Gillian and said, "You sit here with me until the men check out the place. Understand? Once we get the green light, we can go in and feed that belly of yours. I hope this burger is worth the trouble you'll be in once John gets home."
"Oh, it will be, Duff." Gillian grinned ear-to-ear. "It will be."
Chapter 4
Gillian slipped into the sexy pink and white pajama set before brushing out her hair and pulling it into a loose bun. Looking at the bedside clock, she let out a loud sigh. It was half past ten and she wasn't even tired. In fact, she was bored and feeling quite hungry. She had already talked with Stewart about getting some Christmas decorations and taking a bath. John had not called her since she had gotten home, but he had told her that he may not be able to, due to multiple meetings. The Brit clearly didn't keep normal office hours, but then neither did she, being a doctor. Gillian had already decided that she was going to go back to work even if John didn't approve. Honestly, she missed her job and had no intention of living off the billionaire. It bothered her to use John's credit card today, especially since their relationship was so new, but she had done it to keep him from getting upset.
Heading out of John's personal suite, Gillian made her way downstairs. Maybe she could find a book downstairs in his library to read. Or maybe she could spend some more time with
her buddy Duff. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Gillian heard men talking. Rounding the corner to see who was there, Gillian ran smack dab into a brick wall of muscle. When she stumbled back, she was caught by two strong arms. Looking up, a smile lit her beautiful face.
"Patrick!" Gillian exclaimed before throwing her arms around the large Irishman's neck. She was unprepared for him to pick her up and slam his mouth down on hers. Gillian immediately wrapped her legs around his waist and brought her tongue into play. Her slim, porcelain fingers massaged his scalp as Patrick fondled her bottom.
"Damn! I want a welcome home like that." Duff laughed as he entered the room behind the Irishman. The smile remained on his face as he watched Gillian almost jump out of Patrick's arms. Hearing Patrick growl and crack his neck, Duff chuckled and said in Gaelic, so only they could understand, "I'm just trying to save your life, laddie. If Johnny knew you made it home before he did and fucked his woman, he might beat your ass."
Flipping off the Scottish man, Patrick closed his turquoise eyes a moment as he clenched his jaw tightly. When he opened them, he saw Gillian standing there staring at him with eyes that reminded him of his Irish homeland. Like John, Patrick had absolutely no control over his emotions when the American was near. He wanted to be balls deep inside of her, and the rest of the world be damned! Even now, his eyes roamed over her skimpy attire, and his dick twitched with life. From her large, porcelain breasts to her wide hips and long legs, everything about this woman was made for delicious, sinful sex!
"Patrick, are you okay?" Gillian asked, stepping forward to touch his masculine face. The man was growing somewhat of a beard, and it made him even more ruggedly good looking. Casting her eyes downward, Gillian started to chew on her lip nervously. Maybe she had overstepped her boundaries with the Irishman, and he was angry at her. Pulling her hand back from his face, she began to fidget with her hands. "Look, um, welcome home. I was just heading to the kitchen to get myself something to eat. You want to join me?"
A soft smile touched Patrick's lips as he watched Gillian fidget. Grabbing her hands in his, his eyes met hers. "I would love to, actually. I'm starving myself. How are you feeling, lovey?"
The way Patrick's eyes roamed over her body as he licked his lips told Gillian exactly what he was hungry for. Clearing her throat as her clit tingled in her shorts, she said, "I'm feeling good. I think I'm pretty much healed. Um, if you want to follow me into the kitchen, I'll make us something to eat. Don't know if Ramsey believes in leftovers but—"
"I have a better idea," Patrick quickly interjected, stepping closer to Gillian. "I say we order some pizza, have a pint, and watch a movie. Maybe you and I could get to know one another better."
"Really?" Gillian smiled brilliantly. "I would love that!"
"Excellent," Patrick replied, loving the smile touching her lips. "Give me about a half hour, and I will meet you in the theater room. That will give me a chance to get out of this suit and order the pizza. What do you like on your pie?"
"Oh, you know…pepperoni, pineapple, black olives, bacon, extra cheese…the youzhe."
"Sounds utterly disgusting. No wonder you bloody Americans are crazy. Look what you put in your bodies!"
"Shut up; you'll love it. It'll be the best pizza you've ever had," Gillian scolded laughingly before standing on her tiptoes to kiss him quickly on the lips. When she pulled back, her eyes and face were breathtaking as she softly said, "I'm really glad you're home, Patrick. I'll let you get changed."
Patrick moaned loudly as he watched Gillian turn and walk toward the door of the room. He loved the way her apple shaped ass swayed provocatively with each step. With a handsome smile on his face and an Irish song on his lips, Patrick made his way toward the stairwell. Tonight, was going to be one he would never forget!
A few minutes later, Gillian was getting the theater room ready for her evening with Patrick. After pushing the chocolate colored, leather ottoman toward the reclining couch, the American stood up and looked around the room. Leave it to John to have a theater room that was almost the size of her old apartment. She wished her British lover had walked in the door with Patrick, but unfortunately, he had not. Gillian was eager to get to know the Irishman on a personal level, but she also could not deny the sexual attraction that raged between the two of them. Due to her enormous attraction to Patrick, Gillian planned on keeping her distance from him. Or at least, she hoped that she could. Besides, she really didn't know how John would feel about her having sex with Patrick alone. Her Pooh Bear clearly wanted their relationship to have some sort of limits, and Gillian would not now, or ever, betray John in any way. With a loud sigh, she sat down on the couch and pulled the blanket around her shoulders. What the hell was she going to do? She had just lost control of herself with Patrick moments ago, and now she was going to sit and watch a movie with him?
The smell of the pizza drifted into the room at the same time Patrick's cologne did. Her eyes immediately shot to the door as she watched the big, burly Irishman walk into the room with their dinner. Her mouth immediately began to water and she hungrily chewed on her bottom lip, but it was not due to the food. Patrick stood before her in a pair of soft, black knit pants that exposed the deep v shape of his lower abdominal muscles and a hint of pubic hair. Her eyes traveled up from his pelvic region to his hard, chiseled waist to a broad, well-defined, hairless chest. There was not an inch of fat anywhere on this man, and he looked just as good as John did without clothes. She then allowed her gaze to fall back to his groin where his massive cock lay beneath. Gillian could see the enormous, semi hard erection lightly outlined through his pants. She swallowed hard as her clit twitched and her pussy began to weep. Patrick was a living, breathing, Greek god with a body of perfection!
The sound of Patrick clearing his throat had Gillian's eyes shooting up to his. "Oh my gosh," she stammered, embarrassed to be gawking at him like a dog in heat. "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to stare."
"Yes, you were." Patrick smiled arrogantly as he too licked his lips. "I don't mind, though. Do you like what you see?"
"Very much, actually," Gillian heard herself say huskily. Was that even her voice? "Your body is so…delicious to look at. I'm sure you have heard that a thousand times before, though."
"I have," the Irishman responded honestly as his eyes feasted on her voluptuous, plus size curves. "But this is the first time that hearing it has actually mattered to me."
Gillian was immediately touched by Patrick's response and felt drawn to touch him. Before she could stand up and walk toward him, Stewart entered the room with a cart of drinks. As the butler worked on opening a couple of drinks, Patrick came forward to set the pizza on the leather ottoman between them. Her mouth flew open in surprise at the movie she saw on top of the box. A smile touched her full, pink lips as she picked it up. "This is my favorite horror movie of all time! They're coming to get you, Barbara!" Gillian exclaimed, holding the George A. Romero classic. "There is no way that you, Patrick O'Malley, watch stuff like this."
"Of course not. It's fucking rubbish." The Irishman chuckled as Gillian stuck her tongue out at him like a spoiled child. Dropping down on the couch across from her, he opened the box of pizza before taking the bottle of Guinness from Stewart. "I happened to see this movie in your apartment the first night we brought you to the manor. There was a whole collection of this shit, but this one stood out for some reason."
"That's very stalkerish of you, but I'm glad you grabbed it. Anything else I should know about that you and John stole from my place?"
"I plead the fifth." Patrick smiled, snatching the movie from Gillian to give to Stewart.
"Mm-hmm," Gillian replied, shaking her head as she too took a drink from the butler. "Quick thinking on your part, O'Malley. Don't incriminate yourself more than you already have." Glancing down at the food, she smiled and moaned before taking a deep inhale. "Oh, sweet pizza! How I've missed you."
Patrick laughed loudly as Gillian groaned, taking the first bite. Damn, the
woman was just as sexy eating greasy pizza as she was sucking his cock. "You know, I have never seen a woman enjoy her food like that before. I find it refreshing. I quite enjoy eating myself."
"Well, it's because of my love for food like this that I exercise and run. If I didn't, I'd weigh six hundred pounds." Gillian grinned, taking a drink. "John told me that you like to cook. He said you were quite good. What other things do you like to do, Patrick? I mean, I know you work all the time, but there must be something that helps you to relax, besides sex, that is."
Reaching under the blanket Gillian had across her lap, Patrick ran a scarred hand up her inner thigh. Leaning forward, he playfully kissed her lips. "I love sex, sweetheart. A good fuck is all you need to relax." When Patrick heard Gillian gasp as his hand briefly ran along the slit to her pussy, he pulled it out to lick the wetness from his fingers. At her uneven breathing, he chuckled. "However, there are other things that I like to occupy my time with."
Taking a large drink of her Guinness to try to squelch the desire building in her loins, Gillian asked, "Such as?"
"I like to travel, the outdoors, photography, sports, the usual man stuff. I also happen to love vintage cars and jazz."
"Jazz?" Gillian asked, taking another bite of pizza. "I have to admit, that's a little surprising. I like rock and metal myself. I do love the outdoors, though. One of my favorite places on the planet is Yellowstone. I don't imagine you get much of a chance to spend quality time outside. Are John's interests similar?"
"God, no!" Patrick exclaimed in mock horror. "Johnny outside in the wilderness is like a cat who loves to swim. He tolerates it for me, but the bastard would rather be playing with his high-tech toys and cars or working. The bastard would work 24/7 if you let him."
"I take it you don't share his love for work?"
"I like to work but not like John," the Irishman replied as the movie on the screen began. "Johnny loves the game, always has. We have more than made our fortune, but it's never been enough for him. If Johnny had attended school, he would have graduated with honors and been at the top of his class. He refuses to fail. The bloke really is brilliant when it comes to business and finances. I, on the other hand, can see myself on a nice farm in Ireland tending to my livestock with a wife and wee ones. Maybe a garage full of antique cars that need fixed. I would retire from the game, but I can't and won't leave Johnny."