Grind: The Doyles, A Boston Irish Mafia Romance

by Sophie Austin

“Nice suit,” I say. “Too nice for this group.”

  “My brothers always say I’m overdressed,” he shoots back with an easy shrug and grin that reminds me so much of Connor that it makes my heart ache. Blinking rapidly, I try to keep the tears at bay.

  “Ava.” His voice is soft.

  My head jerks up at my name.

  “Yes, I remember you.” He meets my eyes, all business now. “I’m Seamus. I saw you’d be in this class.”

  Starting to shake, I take a shuddering breath. But I’m steeling myself, unsure what he’s going to say.

  “I also wondered if Brooks would be here?” He looks sideways at me, his voice rising on the question. “Has he bothered you at all?”

  Shaking my head, I look around. “I don’t see him very much these days.”

  “Good,” Seamus says with a nod. He’s quiet for a minute. All I can think of is Connor.

  “I miss him.” It’s ripped out of me against my will. “I miss him so much. But I have questions.”

  “There’s no rush, Ava,” Seamus says, his well-manicured hand touches mine ever so briefly. “But Connor is a good man. An honorable man. Don’t tell him I said that though. Why don’t you think about it while I deliver this boring lecture? You won’t miss anything, I promise.”

  Smiling for the first time in days, I nod as he walks up to the front of the room.

  He’s right. The lecture is terrible. Seamus is a dynamic speaker, but the content is dry and my heart’s just not in this today. But the places that my thoughts go, decidedly not boring. Once the talk ends, Seamus takes a few questions and leaves quickly, slipping a business card onto my desk as he passes.

  Picking up the card, I finger the fancy paper it’s printed on before sliding it into my bag.

  After class ends, I slowly walk to the domestic violence center and head straight into Ruth’s office. She looks up at me, and when our eyes meet, I sag. She stands up quickly and closes the door. I pour out everything that’s happened – well, almost everything – with Brooks. And I confess how poorly things have gone with the Stacys, with Brooks, with the police, and with getting anything handled at the school.

  “What do you want to do, Ava?”

  It’s the question we always ask. Empowering the survivor or the person seeking help to define what success looks like.

  “I’m tired of being afraid, Ruth. I’m fucking tired of being terrified. I want to confront him. Stop hiding what happened. Get him out of this program and get some kind of justice,” as I say it, I realize how true it is.

  Justice isn’t black and white. It’s not being handed to me. But I’m ready to demand it, claim it, fight for it. No matter what it takes.

  Am I willing to demand, fight for, and claim something else? Something personal? A shot at a life with Connor.

  After I leave Ruth’s office, having worked out a feasible action plan around Brooks with her, I walk over to Boston Common and get some air. My eyes linger on the expanse of green, people lounging and playing kickball. The normal scenes.

  Sitting on a bench, I watch several fat squirrels chase each other around the trunk of an old elm tree.

  Lost in my thoughts, I sense someone nearby and look up fast. The bench creaks as a large man sits next down next to me, carefully lowering his bulk.

  “Don’t go,” Connor says. At the sound of his voice, my eyes snap up to his face and then back to the ground. I’m rooted to the spot.

  “I’m sorry you got fired, Ava. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

  His legs are inches from mine. My palm yearns to run along the steely muscles of his thighs. I look up at him, but he’s looking straight ahead. He’s wearing a wool pea coat and a soft-looking red scarf.

  I shiver, more at his proximity than at the cold. He turns to me, his brow furrowing. Unwinding the scarf from around his neck, he drapes it gently over my shoulders. Unable to help myself, I pull it tightly around me and bury my nose in it, drinking in his scent. Tears already burn at my eyes.

  “I love my family, Ava,” he says, staring straight ahead once again. His voice has a hard edge, but I can see that his fists are unclenching. This is a hard conversation to have. “They’re good people. But we don’t always do good things.”

  He continues, “I should have owned up to that with you. Talked to you straight. I tried, but clearly I could have done better.”

  “I want to be with you too, Connor.”

  He freezes.

  “I’m sorry, Connor. I was scared, confused and hurt. I didn’t think I’d love anyone again after what Brooks put me through. But you’ve always been honest with me.”

  Connor winces at the mention of Brooks’s name.

  I snuggle further into the scarf. It makes me feel brave. “Nobody’s perfect. I still admire the work my dad did, even though he left my mother and I. It’s inspired me to want to make the world a better place. People are complex.”

  His eyes cut toward me, but he’s restraining himself. Waiting. My breath is constricting in my chest, hurting for this man and how I pushed him away. I’d do anything in this moment to cross that gulf, but the best that I can offer is the truth.

  And hope it’s enough.

  “I can’t promise to like everything you do or to understand it. But I can promise you that you will be the first person I ask—and that we can work through things together.”

  Then I wait, one beat and then two, starved for the oxygen that only he can offer.

  “Ava,” Again my name sounds like a prayer, like an exultation as it crosses his lips.

  Finally, I give in to my desire and slide my hand up his thigh. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back. I press closer to him. “I haven’t slept well since I saw you last, Connor. Can you take me back to your place? Where it’s safe?”

  His eyes snap open and he leans over, kissing me fiercely. My arms wrap around him, sliding my fingers through his hair, moaning into his mouth. “Please?”

  16

  Ava

  We barely make it into his apartment before I finish pulling his coat off. He locks the door and then pins me against it, his large hands on either side of my head. His huge arms flex, and a deep, hot coil in my core tightens in response at the promise of what’s to come.

  “Ava,” he whispers, pressing his body tightly against mine. “Are you sure?”

  Slowly sliding my hands up over his broad, muscular back, my fingers trace the line of his spine. He shivers in response, and I love knowing that my touch can affect this powerful man.

  Standing on my tiptoes, I lean toward his ear and whisper softly. “I want you to fuck me.”

  “Jesus wept,” he curses, sliding my coat down my arms and pulling off my shirt over my head in an expert move. Eagerly, I grab at his belt and unzip his pants. Sliding them all the way down, I run my hands up his legs, snaking my fingers in the waistband of his boxers and tugging them down over his fully erect cock.

  That desire, that confidence, that strength. I want it. I want him.

  We lock eyes as I run the tip of my tongue over my lips and he groans. His eyes take on a hooded, heavy-lidded look. My panties melt at the thought of wrapping my lips around that hard length. More than anything in this moment, I want Connor to feel how much I want him and to show him that I can bring him to his knees with pleasure.

  But first, I’ll have to get onto mine.

  “I want you in my mouth.”

  His breath escapes in an almost primal growl.

  Kneeling front of him, I look up and get lost in his oceanic eyes. Dark and hooded with desire. The hunger there sends waves of hot desire trailing down my body. Without breaking eye contact, I take his length in my mouth, as deeply as I can. His big cock slides over my lips and he tastes so good. My tongue works the ridge under the edge of his cock, and he makes desperate sounds and he fists his hand into my hair urge to me on. Wet heat pools between my legs as I suck him, loving how I’m able to make such a strong man come undone.

  “Fuck.�
�� He groans and then pulls me off of him.

  Murmuring his name, I reach up to touch his cock. My tongue flicks my lips and my eyes hold his. Curious and coquette. Temptation and tenderness.

  “Baby, I’m not going to last much longer if you keep that up.” His voice is ragged, his control giving way to show how turned on he really is.

  Wrapping my fingers around his rock-hard shaft, I stroke him gently. The steel beneath my fingers bucks, demanding attention.

  “You mean this?” I say. Huge blue eyes meet mine, fire flaring.

  His hand closes around my wrists and moves them above my head, while he strips the rest of my clothes off. Pants, bra, panties—till nothing’s left.

  Hungrily, his eyes roam over my naked body, starting at my face and sweeping down. Huge hands slide around my waist, down my hips, and under my ass. Easily, he lifts me over his shoulder, carrying me straight to his bedroom.

  “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world, Ava,” his voice is rough with desire.

  My nails scrape down over his back, leaving faint red marks on his fair skin. He might have me over his shoulder, but I want to mark this man—this man that I love. Love. I don’t know if I’m ready to say it, but I’m ready to show it. Here. Now. Urgently.

  With one hand he clears objects off the top of his dresser, sending them crashing to the floor, and lowers me onto the top. The cold wood is a shocking sensation to my bare skin, but I barely have time to think as he pushes my legs wide apart. Gasping, I claw at his hair as he buries his face between them.

  Connor licks me from top to bottom. His strong hands wrap around my thighs, holding them open as the intense sensation makes them want to jerk shut. He doesn’t stop, his tongue lashing my core relentlessly. His hand slides closer and begins teasing my clit with the tip of a finger—his touch feather light. Crying out, I want more, pressing harder against him. He holds me back with his free hand, continuing to torment my clit with his caresses.

  “Connor.” I’m begging, too hot and too desperate to care. His tongue slides deep inside me, and I pull my fingers through his dark hair. It feels so fucking good and this rogue is in no hurry to give me the release that I’m demanding.

  “More!” He strokes my clit firmly, once, twice, but then goes back to gently teasing me. My pussy is so wet, I’ve soaked the wood of his dresser by now. The firm pressure alternates with light touches, working a perfect rhythm and I feel myself growing closer. Closer to the edge.

  “Connor,” I push his head further into my center. It’s so close, that promise of letting go.

  He pulls his delicious mouth away from me and I make a sound, agony ripping through me at the denial. Working my clit with his finger, he takes my nipple into his mouth, biting gently and then circling it with his tongue before sucking it deep into his mouth. He repeats the same magic over and over again moving between my breasts. I’m aching for him and arch my hips up, an involuntary signal and invitation to him to fill me.

  “Connor, fuck me.” It’s taking everything I have to force my lips to form words, to say any word but his name.

  Blue eyes cloud with desire, as he slides a finger into me.

  “You’re so goddamn tight. Who are you so wet for, Ava?”

  “Connor,” I moan, desperate for him to continue that wonderful friction. His eyes gleam, and he lets out a little growl.

  “Who do you want to come for, Ava? Who do you want inside you?”

  Connor has never been brutal to me, but he’s pushing me to the absolute edge of my control with a kind of possessive drive. It breaks me, pushes me beyond reason, and it’s all I can do to whisper his name, over and over again.

  His head is lowered to my breast, his lips working my nipple, and I push against his hand. He inserts a second finger, stretching me as his thumb continues to rub gentle circles on my clit. My body starts to pulse around him, to give way, and just as release begins to crest, he pulls his hand away.

  My hands tangle in his hair. I cry out a “No!” in frustration. But he’s in control, the one who decides if I get what I want, what I need. So turned on right now, so under this man’s spell. I’ll give anything to him in this moment if he’ll just give me what I want. He pulls me out of my seat, spins me around, and presses my chest against the bed. A condom wrapper crinkles.

  His body positions itself over mine, and I could weep at the thought of him filling me from behind. His lips are next to my ear, his breath desert-hot on my skin. “I love you, Ava.”

  Even in this state, when every sense is piqued to the very edge of reason, there’s a swell in my chest in response to these words and for just a minute his fingers wrap around mine. He nibbles gently at my ear, as he positions the head of his huge cock at my entry.

  “I want you to come with me, baby,” he says, his voice thick with desire. His hands caress down my back and then over my ass, giving it a little slap. The sweet sting of my skin offers some relief, another reminder that this man is in control. He yanks my hips back. I’m practically panting with desire, yearning to open up to him.

  “Yes,” I groan as he slides into my pussy from behind, filling me up. It feels so fucking good. Masterfully, he slides in inch by inch from tip to balls, stretching me out and commanding every sensation of my body with his length. Waiting until I grind against him, demanding more, he begins thrusting hard, deep, and fast. His hands are on my hips, pulling me against him with every thrust, and I twist my hips a little, causing him to curse. Our bodies move together perfectly, and I’m rocketing toward the edge of release.

  Tenderness will come later, but there’s something else in this moment. A claiming, a possession, a request to yield—and every part of my body responds to what he offers me.

  “Come for me, Ava,” he growls, pounding his cock deeper and deeper.

  His husky voice pushes me over the edge and I come around his hard shaft, shattering into a million pieces as I scream out his name.

  “Fuck, that’s it, baby,” he grunts. “You are so perfect.” Soon he’s riding the waves of his own orgasm, pulling my ass against him and sliding his hand possessively up my chest. I’m still panting, still coming down. He stays inside me for a few minutes, but then I start to shiver, so he pulls out, pulling us both onto the bed and under the blankets.

  “You’re so amazing, Ava” Connor says, holding me close. “I love every part of you.”

  Too tired to reply, I nestle closer to him, pressing tightly against his body. But not before I trace a finger down the side of his face, planting the softest of kisses on his lips.

  Falling deep into sleep, it’s the best rest I have in ages.

  17

  Ava

  From the outside, the Kildare has a kind of seedy feel that I don’t expect. But when I head inside, the sounds of laughter and people having a good time drown out everything else.

  Connor said his father created the Kildare as a place to bring the community together. I get it now.

  Shouldering my way through the crowd, I scan the faces for Connor and my eyes finally come to rest on the familiar lines of his face. Square jaw, strong features, and the shock of dark hair above brilliant blue eyes. He’s shoulder-to-shoulder – or should I say, wide shoulder to wide shoulder – with two other men.

  One of them I recognize, the fighter from the photo. A tiny redhead squeezes in under his arm, telling a joke that has everyone laughing. Connor looks so happy. So relaxed.

  Maybe this was a mistake.

  “He’s been hoping you’d come today,” a familiar cool, crisp voice says over my shoulder.

  I start, and turn to see Seamus carrying four beers toward the table where his family sits. He’s dressed in a dark suit, but at least he’s not wearing a tie.

  “Come on,” he says, gesturing with his chin toward the table. “Join us.”

  He waits as if for me to lead the way, but I stand there indecisively for a long second and then blurt out what’s I’ve been trying to decide all day.

 
“How do you do it, Seamus? Balance the law and all this?”

  He looks around quickly. Clearly, I didn’t pick the best time or place for this conversation, but I feel the weight of it in my core. It’s now or never. If I walk out that door tonight, I won’t get a chance to walk back in. But if I stay?

  There’s no taking that back. My heart just won’t let me.

  Seamus tips his head toward a bartop table at the edge of the bar that’s empty and puts down the beers. Several seconds pass while he regards me, like he’s deciding whether to give me a stock answer or the truth.

  “Ava, no one can make that decision for you,” he says finally in a quiet, tight voice. “At some point, it comes down to what you want. What you believe in.”

  His hand gestures toward the long, dark wood bar. “I had the big name law firm, the high-end office, the world travel, and the prestige. At the end of the day, it was hollow. What I wanted, what I missed, and what I believed in? It was here.”

  With a sigh, he leans in and lowers his voice even further.

  “Did the Doyles have a big reputation back in the day? Absolutely. Is it strictly true that everything that happens today is above board? I can’t tell you that it is. But are we a dirty crime family you’d be aiding and abetting? Not by a long shot. And frankly, the darkest stuff I see go down here is less criminal than what I’ve had corporate clients ask me without flinching an eye.”

  He gives a little shrug. “Can you have a life with a man like Connor and still practice law? Yes. But at the end of the day, is that what you want?”

  I think so. It’s been several weeks since that day in the park. Connor and I have been making our way together. He’s opened up to me, let me in, and shared his world. He told me about his deal with the mayor, and I explained how I’d worked with my school to take Brooks’s threats against me seriously. They were explicit that his continued attendance there was dependent on leaving me the hell alone, and he was also disallowed from attending classes I’d be in. It meant he’d be graduating a year after me, since there were requirements he couldn’t meet under those conditions. Such a shame.