“Well, congratulations, Reilly. I think this deserves a toast.” We lift our wine glasses as he scoots a bit closer to me. The hue from the fire reflects off the side of his face, brightening his hazel eyes and lightening the red hues hidden within his beard.
I want to touch him so damn badly.
I want him to be mine so damn badly.
Chapter Sixteen
Reilly
Our glasses clink together as we celebrate my purchase of Gredence Place. I’m surprised Gwen doesn’t ask me how I can afford it, and I’m also glad that she doesn’t ask me because I have no idea what I’d tell her. The truth would be a good start, considering we’re already lying to everyone. We don’t need lies between us on top of that. And I do plan to tell her the truth. When I’m ready.
“I can’t believe you stole that page out of my journal," she laughs, giving me the impression that she isn’t angry anymore.
“It’s not the only thing I’ve had in my wallet for a long time," I reply.
She brings the wine glass to her lips, but before taking a sip, she laughs. “Don’t show me a condom, please.”
“Ye brat! Every man knows the worst place to put a condom is in his wallet. That’s how holes happen and that’s how pregnancy happens.” I pull out the photo of us that I’ve kept in my wallet ever since her college graduation. When I look at her, she has a solemn expression on her face. She doesn’t take her eyes off the wine, and her brows are pinched. Was it something I said? “Hey, what’s wrong?”
She shakes her thoughts away and plasters a big, fake smile on her face. “What? Nothing. Just counting how many times the wine rippled.”
“What?”
“Never mind. What do you have to show me?”
I hand her the picture of us. I’m apprehensive about giving it to her since it seems to be in even worse shape than the piece of paper from her journal, which is odd, because that’s older than the photo. I have taken the photo out more over the years than I have the journal entry. I missed her when she was in Portland, and I needed to see her in some way, so I’d stare at the photograph at night, trying to remember what it was like to have her in my arms. I dreamed of feeling her heart against mine as I held her close to my chest. She felt like mine for those brief moments, and they were all that I had over the years. The photograph made me feel close to her when she had been so far away.
“Oh my god," Gwen remarks, taking the worn picture in her hand. Her fingers brush over our faded figures. “My parents have this picture hanging up in the hallway. Right by the stairs. I remember that day. You smelled so good!” she recalls, laughing.
“I had just showered. I used that Irish Spring bar of soap. It smells nothing like Ireland, so I don’t know why they call it that," I joke, trying to lighten the mood.
“Whatever it was, it made me sad that I had to leave your arms. I knew it would be the last time I’d see you for who knew how long. I can’t believe you have this.”
I scoot closer and put my hand on her leg, rubbing my thumb along the inside of her thigh. “It was the only thing that made me feel close to ye over the years.”
Her hair tickles my cheek as she slides her gaze off the old image of us and sets it on me instead. “You really mean that, don’t you?”
“Aye.”
She hands the picture back to me and I slide it back in his wallet, where it will be safe. “It was always you, Reilly. No one else ever compared,” she says.
I toss my wallet to the side, wrap my arms around her waist, and sit her back on top of me like we were earlier. Her back is facing the fire, and her lips are right in front of me. She is only a breath away. I place my hands on either side of her face and stare into her eyes. They are a deep shade blue, kinda like sapphires. I can’t look away from her timeless beauty and I sink my right hand into her hair, tangling the soft locks around my fingers. I push her toward me, and as our lips meet, I remember how perfect it feels to have them against mine. I sigh, wrapping my arms around her.
This is where we are always supposed to be.
She gasps when she moves her hips to get more settled, because she can feel the hard outline of my cock. I take that moment as an opportunity to dive my tongue between her lips, tasting the reminiscence of the wine that lingers on her taste buds. My hands run along her curves as we take each other in a slow, passionate kiss. One of her hands cups my neck while the other messes with the hairs of my beard. I never thought that would feel so good, but I fucking love it.
The temperature rises as a result of the fire, mixed with our body heat. We explore one another, and we stay like that for a while, just kissing and roaming our hands over each other’s bodies. Her hands against my chest are like a branding, as though she is stamping ownership of me.
I breathe out.
She breathes in.
My hands skim down her back and I rub my thumb across the sliver of her exposed skin. When she doesn’t say anything, I push her shirt up, stopping just below her breasts, and feather the pads of my fingers over her ribcage. She shivers and rocks against me, whimpering into my mouth as my cock bulge presses against her clit, even while hidden beneath denim jeans.
I wrap my arms around her waist. It’s like it was made just for me. My hands fit perfectly in the divots just below her ribs and right above her hips. I want to lift her shirt up even higher. I want to see the heavy mounds of her breasts spilling from her bra. I slide my index finger up the trail of her spine, and she sighs into my mouth.
“I want you, Reilly.”
I lay my forehead against her chest, taking a few deep breaths to calm myself. Those words make me want to rip her clothes off and take her like a wild animal, but she deserves better. We both deserve better than that. We have waited too long for this moment, and I’m not about to fuck it up by not reveling in every second of the experience we are sharing.
“Ye sure?”
She groans, tilting her head back and pushing her breasts in my face. She places her hands on my thighs and swivels her hips. “I’m sure. I’ve always wanted you.”
A cry escapes from my mouth as she rubs against the denim above my cock.
“I want that,” she says, moving her body like a wave against me. “I want to make you feel like that.”
“Oh. Ye’ve always made me feel like that, Gwenie.” I press our lips together, overwhelmed by the emotions passing between us. My fingers tug her shirt over her head. “Oh, Christ,” I groan, putting pressure against her hips and trying to stop her. Seeing her in a green lace bra and pushing her breasts up makes my sack tighten against my body, threatening to end this way sooner than I want.
“What’s wrong? Did I do something?” Her swollen lips capture my attention.
I shake my head. “No, not unless you consider this ending too quickly a problem.”
“That’s a problem. Don’t do that.” She readjusts her ass against me, rubbing herself against my cock.
I hiss. “I can’t help it. Ye look so fucking beautiful sitting on top of me. That bra? Yer out to kill me, woman.”
She reaches behind her back, unhooking her bra and tossing it to the side.
I gulp. Her breasts are perfect, as I always imagined they’d be. They sit high and round, like melons. Her nipples... Fuck. Her nipples are incredible. My mouth waters at the thought of sucking one into my mouth to see if it tastes as sweet as it looks. They’re tan, like caramel candy drops. I don’t remember my hands cupping them, but I love how they feel in my palms. “Perfection,” I whisper, bending my head down and taking one of the peaks into my mouth. Her hand lands on the back of my head as she arches her back, pushing more of herself between my lips.
I kiss the nub and move on to the next one because it needs attention, too. I couldn’t leave it out, could I? While I lavish the other raspberry, my left hand tweaks and twists the nipple I had just abandoned.
She pushes me back, making her sugary-sweet gumdrop pop out of my mouth. My brows pinch together, and right as I open my m
outh to ask what’s wrong, she bunches up the material of my shirt, lifting it over my head. “You drive me crazy,” she says between breaths.
“I can relate.”
Her fingers coast through my beard. “It’s so soft,” she says, more to herself than to me.
“Aye.” She is an aphrodisiac. Her hands brush over my pecs. Her palms rub over my nipples, making me moan.
She bends down and kisses the center of my chest. “You’re a beautiful man, Reilly O’Hara.” But she isn’t looking in my eyes when she says it. Instead, she stares at the place where my heart sits under my skin. She continues kissing across my chest, flicking her tongue over my nipples. I sigh as my nerves sing. Now I know why women like it so much.
“So many tattoos,” she says with a giggle as she starts connecting them with her tongue. They are all over my chest and arms. “I’ve always loved your tattoos.” Her hand lands in the middle of my chest and she pushes me onto my back. I lie down, letting myself fall against the plaid blanket. My chest rises and falls as she keeps getting lower and lower.
The fire behind her makes her look more like a shadow than anything, only showing the outline of her body rather than the details. She tugs at my jeans, unbuttoning them. The zipper lowers, and she places a kiss right on my inner thigh. It unhinges me completely.
I flip us over, kicking off the remainder of my pants. No other words are said as I kiss my way down her chest, circling my tongue around her navel, and lick a pathway down to her jeans. I unsnap them, unzip them, and pull them all the way down her thick thighs. She lies beneath me in a small thong, her cheeks rosy, either from the fire or her lust for me—I’m not sure which. I hope it’s the latter.
My hands skid up her smooth legs until my fingers curl around the material of her undies, pulling them down until she is completely bare before me. She has a thin patch of hair above her honeypot and a little heart tattoo right where her groin met the sensitive skin of her flesh. It’s the simplest, sexiest thing I had ever seen. I bend over and place a kiss on it. “I love this.”
“Really? I got it a few years ago.”
“I don’t like the thought of another man seeing your body while tattooing it, though.”
“He didn’t get to kiss it.”
I smile against the flat plains of her stomach before sliding up higher. “Mmm, you’re right.”
She grips my ass and slides my briefs down my legs. “I know.”
My shaft hits her stomach and her eyes widen when she peers down at it. I cup her jaw again, placing a kiss on her lips. “I promise not to hurt ye. If you don’t want this, just tell me. And I’d be happy to hold ye for the rest of the night.”
“I want this. You’re just bigger than I thought you’d be.”
“I don’t know if I should be insulted by that or not.” I smile down at her. Our bodies are aligned. Skin to skin. Heart to heart. My bare cock settles between her legs and I feel the wet heat of her essence dripping onto me. What I’d give to take her raw... I know I can’t do that, though. Not yet, but definitely one day.
“Condom?” she asks as she wiggles against me.
My cock is right there. Right at her wet entrance. One push−just one moment of giving in to temptation and saying fuck the consequences−and I’d feel her bare walls around me, sucking me in. I groan.
"Right. A condom.” I get up, separate myself from her, and dig through the magic basket, pulling out a strip.
Her brows rise. “How many times did you think we were going to do it?”
I tear one open and sheathe my cock with the damned thing. “Until they were all gone.”
“There must be six there, at a minimum.”
And that’s after I had put this one on.
“Plan on this being a long night, Gwenie.” I bracket my arms beside her head, lowering myself to her body again. I make sure we are lined up. One of her legs is wrapped around my waist while the other lays flat.
Both of us are breathing hard−whether it’s from nerves or something else, I don’t know. She closes her eyes as I push in and the tip of my cock enters her. “Look at me,” I growl. “I want to see you when I take ye.”
She nods, clutching my back as I slide in to the hilt. Her eyes round and she tosses her head back, moaning into the empty house.
“I want to hear all ye noises,” I whisper in her ear, grabbing her hands and holding them above her head. I pull out, leaving the crown inside her channel as I flex my hips. Then, I drive into her as far as I can go.
She cries out.
I smash my lips against her mouth.
She meets me thrust for thrust, pushing her hips up to take as much of me as she can. Her body burns. I feel it searing my length as I drive into her over and over again. Our bodies climb one another, clawing at the ecstasy that nears.
The noises she makes start to grow louder, letting me know she is getting close. I place my forehead on her shoulder, never once slowing down. I feel my own orgasm building and I want us to fall over the edge together. At the same time. Because time had been too distant with us.
Time had stolen too many moments that we never got to have. Time hadn’t been on our side for years, but right now, time has fused us together, and I want us to break time and space with our passion. I envision us stopping all the clocks on the wall and on our phones. I want us to be in this moment forever.
Time needs to freeze, because this moment can never last long enough.
Chapter Seventeen
Gwendolyn
I wake up, stretching my arms and my legs. I shiver and roll onto a warm body. My hands slide down, mapping the figure below me. I feel a wonderful, pleasant ache between my legs as I stretch over him.
“Ye keep rubbing ye breasts on me and ye going to get me all riled up," Reilly says in a sleepy voice.
Like that would be such a bad thing. Except we have one problem. “Well, if you hadn’t kept your promise last night, maybe we would still have condoms.” He had taken me seven times throughout the night. We’d go to sleep with him still inside me, and I’d wake up to him kissing my nipple and driving his long, hard cock back inside of me.
The ache I feel is worth it. After all these years, I’ve finally gotten Reilly, and it’s everything I thought it would be and more.
“Mmm, I’d take ye again, too, if I had more. I knew I should have brought the entire box.” He rolls over onto his back, holding his arm out for me. I snuggle into his chest, sliding my body into the crook he provides.
His heart beats against my ear, the fire from last night still crackling a bit. The slow-burning embers remain in the charred wood. “Last night was perfect,” I admit, feeling a little vulnerable.
What does this mean now? Do we go our separate ways? What does it mean for us?
“I had the condoms, but I want to let ye know that I didn’t expect us to have sex. I wanted to be prepared, but I also wanted to give ye a romantic night. Something that had been in the making for a long time.”
I smile as I rest against his chest. “You gave me everything. It was perfect.” I tilt my head up to him, and he meets me for a kiss. It’s a quick kiss−the kind where it’s out of habit because it has been done a hundred times already. It felt natural and good, like it’s supposed to be this way.
“It was perfect for me, too. Thinking about it is getting me all riled up.” He stretches out and I take a peek over the blanket, watching the plaid as it starts to rise.
No wonder I have an ache between my legs. His cock is huge. “How about we take a break and you show me the house now that it’s daylight?”
The biggest smile spreads across his face. “Really? Ye want to see it?”
I lean on my elbow and hold my head in my hand. “Are you kidding? Of course I do. I’ve loved this house for ages.”
He stands up and the blanket drops to the floor. His girth bobs for a second and I stare at it, watching the vein pump it full. “Eyes up here, Gwenie.”
Sigh.
Damn t
hat accent.
I want him, but at the same time, I need to not have sex for a week to give my hoohah time to heal. Reluctantly, I tear my gaze away from his giant member and stand up, wrapping the blanket around my body. He slides on his underwear and takes my hand in his. “Put on ye shoes. I don’t know what the floor is like around here, and I don’t want ye to get hurt.”
Dressed to impress in a plaid blanket and my black Vans, I follow him until we get to a large room. The walls are covered in cobwebs, just like the remainder of the house, but it looks like a few pictures are buried beneath the tangled mess. I stroll through the room, squinting my eyes as I try to make out the photo. I take the edge of the blanket and use it to wipe off the oval frame.
His hand grips my ass as he sets his chin on top of my shoulder to look at the picture. It’s so old that I can’t tell if time had aged it, or if it’s just sepia. “How cool,” I whisper, staring at the couple. The woman wore a gown that covered her entire body, from her neck to her feet. The man held a gun and wore suspenders over a shirt that seems too big, so he had it tucked into his pants. “You should save these photos. It really adds to the house. Plus, getting rid of them doesn’t feel right. These were someone’s memories. What is this room, anyway?” I keep polishing off the photos, circling the room as Reilly trails behind me.
“Dining room, I think. I imagine a huge table going in here. Big enough to seat both of our families.”
My heart stops when he says that. “You really mean that?”
He wraps his arms around me, spinning me until we’re standing face-to-face. “Are you kidding? You’re the only one I could ever imagine this with. I’ve never imagined creating a life with someone else, Gwenie. It’s only ever been you.”
I slam my lips on his, driving my tongue into his mouth. I don’t care about morning breath or any of that. His words make me so happy. I pull away, gasping for air. He always seems to leave me breathless. I lay my head against his chest. “You want to show me what you see in every room?” I ask.
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