Kissing Frogs

by Kim Deister

  He fought to keep his hands off me and I admired his willpower. But breaking him became a challenge and I intended to make him lose every shred of control. His eyes darkened as I slid myself down along his body. I knelt between his legs and ran my hands over his stomach, tracing the lines of his abs. My hand drifted down the plane of his stomach, fingertips brushing through the small patch of coarse hair. His entire body jerked as I moved my hands away, sliding them along his hard thighs. I barely touched his skin as I ran my fingers up and down the insides of his thighs. My hands were everywhere but where he wanted them and his entire body was as taut as a wire.

  When I finally touched him, he almost jumped out of his skin. I skimmed just the tips of my fingers along his shaft and his back came off the floor. He reached for me and I sat back, taking another page out of his book of torture. I rested my hands on his knees while he glared at me, daring me to refuse him. But he got the message and I rewarded his good behavior by touching him again, running my hand up and down his shaft. A growl tore from his throat when I lowered my head to let my mouth follow my hand.

  It was obvious that Captain Finn wasn’t used to not being in charge and I took perverse pleasure in that. But he wasn’t giving in easily anymore and every time he fought to gain the upper hand, I backed off. I teased him mercilessly until he couldn't take it anymore.

  “Woman!”

  “Yes, Captain?” I fluttered my eyelashes at him, the very picture of innocence, which wasn’t an easy thing to maintain when kneeling between legs of a hot pirate. Naked and holding a rather stiff part of him in one hand. I rubbed my thumb over his tip as I watched his face.

  I had broken him. He didn’t bother with words as he reared up and grabbed me. In seconds, I found myself pinned beneath his long, hard body. He held himself above me and stared down with a challenge in his eyes as he waited to see if I would fight him. But I was done fighting. I pulled him down until every possible inch of us was skin to skin. When he kissed me again, it was like we were both on fire. Hands and mouths were everywhere and the fight for control began again as we rolled over and over. But Finn won and I was pinned underneath him once again. His strong legs were between mine, forcing them apart. I could feel him against me, hot and hard, and I wanted him more than I had ever wanted anyone.

  “I need you. I need you inside me. Now,” I demanded in a raspy voice.

  He pushed himself up onto his knees, holding himself in one fist. My eyes were riveted on him, mesmerized by the sight of seeing him in his own hand. When I told him how hot that made me, he gripped himself even tighter and moved his hand as an evil grin spread across his face. I wanted to watch him touch himself like that, but I meant what I said. I needed to feel him inside me. He leaned forward and rubbed himself against me, so close to where I wanted him, his hand still moving along his shaft.

  “Please, Finn, please…”

  And that was all it took. A single thrust and his entire length was deep inside me. I felt him inside me, hot and hard. I didn’t know where one of us ended and the other began. We just couldn’t get enough of each other. And then the world exploded.

  Afterward, we lay shuddering in a tangled pile, both of us trying to remember how to breathe. I was boneless beneath him, but Finn somehow had enough strength to hold himself up on his forearms, saving me from premature death by suffocation. He was still inside me as we nuzzled and kissed, not wanting the moment to end.

  The fire had died down while we were otherwise occupied and even with Finn's muscled bulk stretched out on top of me, I began to shiver. With a groan, he rolled away and crawled to the fireplace. Even after the mind-blowing orgasms he’d just given me, I wanted him again. I turned onto my stomach and watched him as he stoked the fire back to life. The guy is mouth-watering. And, holy shit, he knows his way around a woman. When he turned around to crawl back, he saw me watching and grinned.

  “Not my best angle, a ghrá.”

  “Judging by what I’ve seen, any angle is a good angle, Captain.”

  He bent down and kissed my nose. “Not to ruin the moment, but are you as hungry as I am? All of that,” he gestured to the entire living room as he spoke, “made me a wee famished.”

  He stood up and reached down to pull me to my feet. When I stood in front of him, he wrapped his arms around me and held me against his chest. For the first time, I felt like I belonged.

  When I woke the next morning, I was confused. I had no conscious memory of ever coming upstairs, but I was in my bed. Even more confusing was the fact that there was a body in it with me. Not a dead one, thank the Goddess. But a body nonetheless and it was a naked male one.

  That was not a normal state of affairs for me, waking up with a warm body next to me that was human rather than canine. For a split second, I thought one of the Operation Marry Cassidy candidates had broken into my house. But, no. Finn.

  My brain felt a little fuzzy, as if it were struggling to function several speeds lower than its normal operating level. Slowly, I remembered the events of the previous evening. I felt my face flame and they spread through my entire body as I remembered the naked antics in front of the fireplace. I had a vague memory of icy cold vodka applied to sensitive areas and removed with warm tongues. If memory served me, there was a reason I felt a wee bit hungover and, if the not unpleasant aches I felt in various parts of my body were any indication, the hangover was worth it.

  The gorgeous hunk of manliness was currently sprawled on his stomach next to me, my Luna cuddled in his arm. He was still sound asleep, which gave me the unfettered ability to observe him in all his glory. And how glorious it was. He had kicked off most of the sheets and blankets and now very little of him was still covered. Just a single foot and, as I drank him in unabashedly, he kicked that off, too. This made waking up most enjoyable for me and I let my eyes wander. Dear God. This man was sin in the flesh. I didn’t know what Finn usually did in his froggy off-time, but it definitely didn’t involve guzzling beer and eating chips while watching football with his hand jammed down his pants. Every inch of him was bronzed and muscled, not an ounce of fat anywhere. I wanted to hate him for that, but it was impossible.

  But his ink... I couldn’t get over the ink. It covered almost his entire body. Taylor’s husband was a tattoo artist and I spent a lot of time in his shop, but I had never seen anyone come in with as much of his body covered as Finn's and it was sexy as hell.

  Tattoos circled both legs, rising from his ankles to above his knees. I could see the hint of another on the top of one of his feet and I moved so I could see it better. It was a compass set into what looked like the ship’s wheel, inked in golds and black. Above it, stormy waves circled his ankle, the head of a huge shark leaping out of the water. On the other leg, a line of runes traced from his heel to his knee, almost hidden among dozens of other ink. The backs of his thighs were bare, empty canvases. The ink started again at his waist and flowed across his back to his shoulders, all one single tattoo with the space around it bare, ready for more designs.

  What the hell? How is that possible? The tattoo was beautiful, newer than most of the others I’d seen on his body. It was a huge shamrock, filled with intricate Celtic knotwork in black and green ink. It was a beautiful piece of art, but that wasn’t what struck me. The tattoo was almost identical to the piece on my own back, although mine was much smaller. I got mine months ago, not long after the wedding that never was. It took a month of weekly sessions and I hadn’t slept on my back for weeks. But it had been worth every painful, itchy moment. And now I was looking at almost the same tattoo, spread across Finn’s back.

  A circle framed a triquetra in the center of the shamrock, the knotwork tiny and intricate. The four leaves of the shamrock flowed out from the center with more knotwork. Thick black lines outlined the entire tattoo. Besides the size, the only difference I saw between our shamrocks was the writing. Under his tattoo was a single phrase, "Go n-eírí an bóthar leat.” My Irish language skills were almost nonexistent, but I knew
this. It was something that Grandma Fi said all the time. May the road rise to meet you.

  Under my shamrock was a few lines of an old Saoirse song. “Today and Tomorrow.” It was cliché, but I didn’t care. I loved the song and the lyrics seemed appropriate after the hellish nightmare that was Luke.

  What is past is past.

  Now there is today and tomorrow.

  My dreams and wishes dance on the breeze,

  Dreams I can follow today and tomorrow.

  If I had any doubt, surely this tattoo was a sign, a sign that I was right to trust him. I idly traced the shamrock on Finn’s back, thinking about everything I had been through over the last year. Most of it was painful and bad. There was no sugarcoating that. But this? This was good, even if unexpected. I wasn’t exactly in the habit of immediately falling into bed, no matter how tattooed and hot they happened to be. But here I was, naked in bed with a pirate. With a pirate. The thought made my head spin.

  Of course, I could argue that I hadn’t immediately fallen naked into bed with him. He spent the first night across the hall in my guest room. And last night, I had rolled around on my living room floor naked with him first. For several hours and not in a bed. I could feel the cheesy grin on my face as I mentally gave myself a high five for that one.

  But the bottom line was that this was the best thing that had happened to me in a very long time, no matter how it came to be. And there was no point in worrying about that. I had slept with the guy, so it was a little late now. There was just one problem. He was Finn, the human form of my beloved niece’s frog. And that was a problem that I didn’t know how to get around.

  How exactly do you explain something like this to an eleven-year-old girl? Hell, how did you explain something like this to anyone? Hey, everyone, my new boyfriend used to be a frog! Pass the potatoes. Most people got fireworks when they kissed, but not me. I kissed a frog and got a human.

  However, I suspected that telling Kyra would be the easy part. Telling Taylor would be easy, too, as open-minded as she was. She was more likely to throw down some bestiality jokes that would be in very poor taste than to flip out. But what the hell was I going to say to MacKenzie and Tom? To my parents?

  The only person in my family who I absolutely knew wouldn't try to have me committed was Grandma Fiona. She lived by the Irish lore. She believed in it with her entire soul, although my father would argue that ample amounts of Irish whiskey helped further her steadfast belief.

  Nothing in my life thus far had prepared me for this. There was no guide to help me explain the presence of a pirate in my house, not to mention my bed. A pirate that was born some three hundred years ago, now a reformed man tramp after being cursed to live most of the last three centuries as a frog. Until my kiss freed him from a life of eating mealworms and crickets, that is.

  That spurned an unwelcome thought. Oh, my God. I kissed a guy who eats worms and bugs. The thought was almost enough to turn me into a nun once again until Finn rolled over and opened his blue eyes. Thoughts of mealworms and celibacy fled my mind when he offered that sexy, lopsided smile of his and turned my insides to jelly. The nakedness didn’t hurt either. It was hard to be disgusted when he spoke to me in that beautiful Irish brogue, deep and still thick with sleep.

  “Good morning, a ghrá.” He lifted his hand from the bed and caressed the side of my face. Luna snorted as he disturbed her and nuzzled into his chest.

  There should be laws. No man should look that good first thing in the morning, lying on his side covered in nothing but tattoos and snuggling with my dog. Especially since I had snuck a peek in the mirror and discovered a black and purple nose and two black eyes from my adventure with the wall yesterday. It was hard to think when given a view like this. Finally, my brain caught up and I was able to form some semblance of rational thought.

  “Good morning, Captain,” I answered with a smile that I was sure belied my lustful thoughts. “What does that mean, by the way? A ghrá?”

  He snaked a hand around the back of my head and tugged me closer for a kiss before answering me. Luna the Betrayer yipped a little, clearly not into sharing her man, not even with me. “It means ‘my love.’ I have a question for you as well. Are you going to forever call me ‘Captain’? Although I have to admit, I did enjoy the way you yelled it out from time to time last evening. Before you, the only people who’ve ever called me ‘Captain’ were my crew. Somehow it’s not the same when you say it.” He paused, gently tapping my nose as I blushed hotly. “But I also love the way my name sounds on your lips. The way you whisper it in a sigh. The way you shout it. My name has never sounded so good on the lips of anyone else.”

  My face burned at his words. I knew exactly how much I’d shouted his name, how often I’d said it with a very satisfied sigh. And if he kept talking like that, I would be doing it again. I wanted to ravish him. It took a feat of effort to gather my thoughts and put them into words.

  “Yes, well. What can I say? It’s not every day that a girl meets a real, live pirate captain.”

  “I can’t argue that, although I have seen some of your pirate movies. I hope you don’t expect eyeliner, parrots on my shoulder, and for me to say ‘aarrggh, matey’ a lot. I’m not really the eyeliner type and parrots are wee bit messy, lass. And no self-respecting pirate of the high seas would ever utter that term. I’m more of the leather kind of pirate. Sorry to disappoint you, a ghrá.”

  “Oh, yeah. I am so very disappointed with you. Too bad there is nothing at all redeeming about you, Captain Finn, nothing at all.”

  “I sense that you are having fun at my expense.”

  I batted my eyelashes at him, but he didn't buy my innocent act.

  “So, you looked very serious when I woke up. Is something troubling you? Do you…” His voice trailed away, leaving his last question unvoiced.

  “Do I what?” I had a feeling that I knew what was on his mind and his next words told me I was right.

  He looked down at Luna, dropping a kiss on her head before meeting my eyes. “Are you regretting what happened between us? I know that you’ve had a hard time believing in all of this.”

  “No! No regrets, I promise. It’s not about us. A wise woman once told me that sometimes I need to throw caution to the wind and just believe. So, I did.”

  “So, what is it then? Perhaps I’m mistaken, but I think you feel the same connection between us that I do.”

  “Perhaps,” I answered grudgingly. “I can’t tell you how hard it is to admit even that. I am not an instalove kind of girl and I never have been. And I'm not saying that's what I'm feeling yet. I honestly don’t know what exactly I’m feeling right now. My history with men makes me cautious, but that’s a tale for another time, Captain Finn."

  I was rambling a bit and I knew it. But I hadn't meant to use the "L" word in any form and it threw me when it came out of my mouth. I took a deep breath, trying to settle my nerves before I explained.

  “Right now, I have other issues. My family and my friends.” He was obviously confused and that baffled me. He didn't seem to see how this situation could be problematic. “I don't mean you and I and whatever is happening between us. I mean your very existence. I could explain away the absence of Finn the frog, but you? How do I explain that you are Finn the frog? This isn't exactly something that happens every day, you know. How does one go about explaining pirates, frogs, and curses without ending up wearing a special jacket in a padded room in a secure facility?”

  “I was with you right up until your wardrobe became a part of it and then you lost me.”

  “American idioms and references are not your strong suit,” I said with a smile, giving him a little shove. “A special jacket, as in a straitjacket. A padded room in a mental health hospital. As in, everyone is going to think I’ve finally lost my mind.”

  “Ah, yes. I understand now. That makes more sense than a wardrobe issue,” he laughed. “Well, you could tell them we just met and hit it off. Or that we met a while ago, but it's o
nly recently gotten serious enough to share?”

  “Yeah, no and no. No one would buy the idea that I just met you and stumbled head first into it, even if that is kind of true. My sister especially. She knows how much of a cynic I am when it comes to men and relationships. And there is no way she’d buy that we’d been seeing each other awhile and hiding it. Not for a single second. If there were a guy in the picture, she knows I would’ve told her in a hot minute if for no other reason to put an end to Operation Marry Cassidy. Same with my mom."

  “I can see the dilemma.”

  “You think? I don't want to end up with you in jail and me in lockdown.”

  I was in full panic-mode, but the sexy pirate didn’t look at all worried about the situation. He looked amused and I wasn't sure if I wanted to punch him or jump him. I chose the former and his amusement only deepened when I sat clutching my throbbing fist and glowering at him in vain. Finn was not easily intimidated by short, naked girls who hurt themselves punching pirates.

  “What can I do to make it better?”

  Besides me? That was the first thought that popped into my head, but I pushed it aside for the moment. This was not the moment for hussy thoughts, so I thought about his question before answering. “I don’t know and I wish I did. Do you have any suggestions on how to handle this quagmire?”

  “I don’t really think it’s an insurmountable problem, my love.”

  My love. A shiver ran down my spine at his words. It was only sheer force of will that kept me from melting into his arms. God, I'm pathetic. It didn't take much for me to become a Cassidy puddle. I put a hand on his chest and pushed him back when he reached for me. A strategically placed pillow made it slightly easier for me to concentrate. The pillow was necessary if I was going to speak without incoherent babbling.