Irish Sex Fairy: Ellora's Cave

by Kelly Jamieson

  “Aren’t you playing bridge tonight?”

  Maeve stared at her. “Bridge?”

  “Yes. You know, that thing you do every Tuesday night?”

  Maeve’s auburn brows snapped together. “It’s Tuesday?”

  Keara’s heart sank. “Yes, it’s Tuesday.” She forced a smile. “The day after Monday.”

  Maeve’s eyes got all owl-blinky and she turned her back to Keara. “I can’t believe I forgot what day it is,” she said brightly, but her voice sounded funny.

  “You still have time. It’s only a quarter to seven.”

  “Yes. Yes. I’ll just go freshen up.” She hurried out of the room.

  Oh dear, oh dear. Keara sank down onto the couch. Another example of Maeve’s memory problems. She hadn’t seen any problems for a few days, had almost hoped maybe everything was fine, but damn, this wasn’t good.

  Maeve rushed out of the apartment, leaving Keara alone. Last time she’d been there alone, she’d been a little antsy, a little edgy, but tonight she thought she was okay. Just a touch worried about Maeve, distracted by trying to decide what to do. She was going to have to talk to Maeve about it.

  And then Shane arrived.

  She stared at him in exasperation as she let him in. “Now what are you doing here?” Deep down, she had to admit, she was happy to see him. And it wasn’t because she didn’t want to be alone. It was because she wanted to see him.

  “Bridge night,” he said softly, pushing against her with his body, gently, insistently. “Right?”

  “Right.” She pushed back, their pelvises bumping together, sending a jolt of sweet heat through her. “Come on in.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  A thought flickered through her mind that she needed to tell Shane about Maeve’s latest incident of forgetfulness, but staring at Shane’s gorgeous face, blue eyes gleaming, sexy mouth curved into a smile, she just melted. Liquid lust pooled warm and heavy inside her and she leaned in closer to his radiating heat, all thought vanishing from her head.

  He slid a hand around the back of her neck, under her hair, and urged her closer. He was staring at her mouth and her breath stuck in her chest. A long breath whispered out of her.

  “It’s just sex,” she whispered to him.

  “Yup. Just sex.”

  “Like therapy.”

  “Sure.”

  Their mouths were only a breath apart and her eyes fluttered closed as she felt Shane’s nearness. Everything inside her tightened and she needed to taste his mouth. She closed the gap between their mouths and his lips moved against hers in a luscious, lingering kiss. Their mouths clung and lifted, met again and she needed to be closer. She twined her arms around his neck and with a low groan he gathered her up against him. She pressed herself to him, fighting to get as close as she could to his body—warm, solid, irresistible.

  He slanted his mouth over hers and the kiss deepened into long, open-mouthed, devouring kisses. Sensation sizzled over every nerve ending, hunger rose inside her, desperate and urgent. She rolled her hips, pressing into his groin in an erotic, helpless rhythm.

  He stroked a hand down her back, found the waistband of her jeans and slid beneath it to cup her butt. He made a growly sound in his throat and she broke the kiss to let her head fall back with a gasp.

  “Nice,” he murmured. He squeezed and his fingers played about the crease between each cheek. But her jeans were snug and he slid his hand out and over her waist, around to the front button. His touch sent cascades of shivers over her.

  Excitement grabbed at her stomach, tightening and drawing everything up inside her even more. Need ached between her legs. “Bedroom,” she gasped.

  “Good idea.”

  She turned to him in her dim bedroom and they began to undress each other. His shirt, her jeans, his jeans, her T-shirt. Then he slid his boxer briefs down over muscular, hair-roughened thighs, while she reached behind her to unclasp her bra and let it fall. Wearing only a lacy thong, she stood before him and he again settled his hands on her waist and drew her closer.

  “You are so beautiful,” he murmured pressing a kiss to her cheek, her jaw, the side of her neck.

  “So are you.” Her palms slid over satiny skin and smooth muscle, up over his biceps to the big hard bones of his shoulder, down to his chest where she rubbed. He groaned. Her fingertips brushed small hard nipples and he growled.

  His erection prodded her stomach, hard and hot and insistent and she slid a hand lower, tangling her fingers in the curls just above, then wrapping her fingers around him. He sucked in a sharp breath. “I want to taste you,” she whispered, lips against his ear.

  “Oh yeah, babe. Do it. Suck me.”

  She went to her knees in front of him, grateful for the soft rug on the floor, and took him in both hands. She studied him for a moment, the heavy veins under silky skin, the rounded head. She cupped his tight balls and caressed them with her fingertips and he made strangled-sounding noises, stepped his legs further apart to allow her access. He was warm, smelled delicious and she leaned her head in for the taste her mouth watered for. She took him in, licked and sucked and tightened her lips around him.

  He held her head, gently, never forcing her, just guiding her as she moved her mouth up and down on him, and when she opened her eyes and peered up at him, mouth full of him, the look on his face made her spasm deep inside. She slid one hand between her legs to press there, throbbing against her fingers.

  She drew back to catch her breath, slid the wet tip of his penis over her lips then kissed him, right there.

  He groaned again and pulled her up. “In the bed,” he muttered, dragging her toward it. “God, I want inside you.”

  Didn’t he like that? Because she sure did. She loved the taste and feel of him, and mostly loved knowing that she had caused that look of extreme erotic pleasure on his face.

  “Your mouth should be illegal,” he moaned as he tumbled down beside her. “I might have to arrest you.” She smiled as he moved over her. She’d take that as a compliment.

  He cupped her breasts, played with her nipples, which she loved so, so much, until she was writhing and so hot she couldn’t stand it.

  “Now,” she cried. “Now, Shane, please.”

  “Wanna fuck you, baby. Wanna fill you up and make you come.”

  “Oh yes. Please.”

  “Just need…a condom.”

  “Oh. Good thinking.” She waited, a throbbing mass of lust, while he retrieved one from his jeans and returned to her.

  She closed her eyes, grabbing onto his shoulders and tilting her pelvis as he pushed inside her, slow and stretching. “Love that. Oh God.”

  He filled her, touched her deep inside, and they moved together in a sensual rhythm, rubbing against each other, laying small kisses on shoulders and forehead, the only sound Shane’s harsh breathing and Keara’s whimpers.

  She lifted her legs and wrapped them around his hips, trying to take him as deep as she possibly could, all of him.

  “Feels so damn good,” he groaned in her ear. He thrust again and she felt his body tense, and she reached for it, her own climax there, just there, there… A fractured cry tore from her lips as she peaked, a high, sharp point of sensation that burst into a shower of sparks. She held him tight as he, too, gave a harsh cry and tightened and pulsed inside her.

  They lay there for endless moments of rapture, descending from the high to a plane closer to earth, legs tangled, bodies damp, arms around each other.

  “What time does Maeve get home?” Shane murmured.

  “Oh shit.”

  “What?” Amusement painted his voice.

  She turned her head and met his eyes. “I was going to tell you. She forgot it was Tuesday. She was going to miss her bridge game.”

  “Shit.”

  “I know.”

  “She’s been doing that every week, forever.”

  “Yeah.” Keara blew out a breath. “I’m going to talk to her. Maybe tomorrow.”

  �
�I’ll do it.”

  “No. I will. I’m her niece.”

  “But you just got here. I’ve been around a long time, and I’ll be around long after you’ve gone back to LA.”

  She said nothing. He was right, but somehow his words wounded. As when she’d arrived, when he’d made her feel guilty for not visiting Maeve, but now his low opinion of her didn’t just annoy her, it hurt. She pushed away from him, but he caught hold of her and dragged her back. He tipped her chin up.

  “I’m sorry,” he said seriously. “I wasn’t trying to be rude. But it’s the truth.”

  “I know.” She took a breath. “But I’m her family and I’ll talk to her.”

  He studied her face, eyes gentle, and then nodded. “Okay. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

  “I will.”

  He pulled her back down onto his chest and stroked her bare back. “I’m here to help,” he said.

  She sighed. “I know you are, Shane, but I’m a big girl.”

  “With a few problems right now.”

  “Okay, yeah. Hell, I don’t know how I think I’m going to help Maeve when I can’t get my own life together.”

  “You will.” He stroked her hair and the gentle tug on her scalp sent tingles skittering down her spine.

  “I don’t know. The thing is, I don’t think I deserve to be happy.”

  His hand stilled. “What? Why would you say that?”

  “Because of what I did. The things I did, the mess I made. And…” She swallowed through a constricted throat. “Never mind.”

  “Tell me. It can’t be that bad. It’s not like you’re a murderer or something.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  Shane couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. She had to be joking.

  “Don’t be crazy,” he said roughly, tugging her hair so she had to lift her head to look at him. He rolled her over onto her back and moved over her.

  “I’m serious,” she said, eyes closed. “I might as well have killed him.”

  “Killed who?” What the hell was she talking about? His mind went to the accident, but there’d been nobody else involved in that.

  “Gary. The man who robbed the bank.”

  Shane frowned. He’d read the reports, knew the unfortunate outcome of that incident. How the perp had been shot by the SWAT team, coming out of the bank, Keara held in front of him with her hands up.

  “How could that be your fault? Jesus, Keara, he held a gun on you.”

  “Yes, but…” A tear slid from the outer corner of her eye, a silvery trail in the muted light of her bedroom. “Oh God. I don’t want to tell you about this.”

  “Why not? Keara, if it’s bothering you, it’ll help.”

  “You’ll hate me.”

  “I won’t hate you. Look at me.” Her touched her chin. “Keara, look at me.”

  Her eyes opened, luminous with tears.

  “I hate myself,” she whispered.

  He shook his head, but waited. Finally she spoke, her voice low and choked.

  “Gary worked for the bank.”

  “Yes.” He’d read that the perp had been a former employee of the bank.

  “I fired him.”

  “Oh.”

  “A couple of months before that. I’d been working my tail off since I started managing that branch, trying to come up with ways to cut costs. They wanted me to turn things around at that branch. It was in trouble when I got there, but it’s an important branch to the bank and they wanted someone who could improve performance. I was so happy to have that challenge, and they said if I did well, I’d be moved into executive management.”

  Shane’s body tensed.

  “They wanted to cut a lot of positions. Twenty. Maybe more. I really didn’t want to let that many people go, so I worked hard to find other ways of saving money. But even so, at the end of the day I had to cut positions. There was no other way. I managed to get it down to eight. And Gary was one of them.”

  “That must have been hard for you to do.”

  “That’s the awful part,” she replied, a sob catching her voice. “It wasn’t that hard. I didn’t know Gary. He was the head of security and he made the most money, so he had to go. I barely talked to him other than good morning every day. Same with the others I fired. I made my decisions based on sound business rationale. I didn’t think about the people behind the positions.”

  Shane was silent. He understood what she was saying. He empathized. Hell, he had to make tough business decisions, too. Resources were scarce in a small-town police force. He knew what it was like.

  “What happened?” he asked. “With Gary. Why’d he do that? He was that pissed off about being fired?”

  “No.” Anguish roughened her voice. “Well yeah, he was angry, for sure. Angry at me. Because his wife had Alzheimer’s.”

  Jesus Christ.

  “She was in a home. A very expensive home. He had no job, his severance was gone, and he couldn’t find another job. At his age, it’s not that easy, and the economy is crappy right now. He was desperate. He…” More tears pooled and dripped down her face and she could hardly talk. Now Shane was sorry he’d made her talk about this.

  “It’s okay.” He stroked her hair back from her forehead. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me any more if you don’t want.”

  “Oh sure, now you let me off the hook.” A glimmer of a smile touched her mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m getting all emotional.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “He loved his wife,” she choked out. “He talked to her on the phone. In front of me. I heard him talk to her and I thought I was going to die. He’d looked after her their whole life together and he loved her so much, and I was the one who had taken away his ability to look after her.” Tears poured now and her voice wavered. “You have no idea how I felt, hearing that, knowing it was all my fault. Whatever happened at that damn bank that day—even if he’d lived, he would’ve gone to jail—his life was ruined and it was all my fault.”

  “Oh Jesus.” Shane groaned and scooped her up into his arms. He turned and settled back against the headboard of the bed, with Keara on his lap, sobbing and drenching his chest with tears.

  “I will never forget that,” she cried. “And Gary told me how the others at the bank saw me. An axe-woman who didn’t care about her staff, only cared about making the numbers, climbing the corporate ladder.”

  Shane rolled his lips in because in fact, that did sound like her description of herself. “Keara.”

  “It’s true!” She lifted a tear-streaked face. “That is what I was like! One of the guys I fired had just had a baby. She was born premature and had lots of problems, expensive problems. I didn’t even know that. I mean, I knew he’d had a baby, but I didn’t think of that, I just canned him.”

  “Business decisions don’t always have room for things like that,” Shane said carefully. “It’d be nice to not ever have to fire anyone or cut staff, but that’s the way the world is. I’m sure you made the best decisions you could.”

  “I did. But I hate myself for it. And…” She swallowed convulsively. “I don’t know if I can ever do that again.”

  “Do…what?” He was almost afraid to ask.

  “Make tough decisions like that. I’m afraid I’ll always be second-guessing myself, taking things into consideration that I shouldn’t be. How can I be an effective manager if I’m too wishy-washy to make decisions? I was almost ready to go back to work, and when I went to visit the bank I had a meltdown.”

  He watched her, unsure of what to say.

  “They told me I had a panic attack. First time in my life. I didn’t believe them, but every time I think about going back to work, I get this funny, tight feeling in my stomach. It’s fear, Shane. I’m terrified. And it’s not just because of being held at gunpoint and thinking I was going to die. It’s the guilt.”

  God. His chest ached for her and he wished he could do something—anything—to make things better for her. Tenderness
and warmth filled him and he drew her back down to his chest and wrapped his arms around her. “Go ahead, cry,” he murmured against her hair. “Get it all out.”

  And she did. She sobbed and choked and sniffled until she seemed exhausted. His chest was wet and he reached for a box of tissues beside the bed and handed her some. She quivered against him. “God, I am so sorry,” she said, voice thick. “I do not know where that all came from.”

  “I think I kinda pushed you to tell me that stuff,” he said. “I guess I should apologize. Except I think it might’ve been good for you.”

  “Oh sure, embarrassing myself is good for me.”

  He chuckled. “Don’t be embarrassed. I told you, I get it. I know what it’s like to have all those powerful emotions inside you that you don’t understand and don’t know what to do with.”

  “Yeah,” she said slowly. “That’s it.”

  He tipped her chin up and kissed her mouth. Her lips tasted of salt. Words rose up inside him, words of…Christ. He wasn’t in love with her. He was just having sex with her to help her get over this depression. But her sadness tugged at something inside him, opened up a hole in his heart, made him want to save her, protect her from everything.

  He deepened the kiss, expressing his feelings with actions instead of words, sliding his hand into her hair to hold her head, the other on her bare hip. She was tiny on his lap, silky-soft and delicious-smelling. He wanted to inhale her, eat her up, claim her.

  The intensity of his feelings threatened his self-control and he had to fight to restrain himself, to remind himself what this was.

  She kissed him back, soft mouth opening against his, silky tongue stroking, sweet and warm. She was naked in his arms, delicate breasts pressed to his chest, her butt cheeks on his thigh and he knew he was hardening against her.

  They sat there snuggled together on the bed for a long time, just kissing in long, sweet, slow kisses, hands petting and caressing in gentle touches, tongues sliding, bodies pressing. Tenderness expanded inside him, filling his chest, his desire for her more than just lust for her body but an intense need to look after her, to make things better for her. He knew he couldn’t, really, but he could do this to make her feel better. And he made love to her with his hands and his mouth and his body, slow and gentle and worshipful.