by Mari Carr
Like with the vibrator, he felt that brief moment of resistance and then…ease.
He pushed in halfway, then stopped, withdrawing a little before returning. She was wet and hot and felt so damn good.
Fiona pressed up against him on each downward thrust, and he fought to keep control.
“Dammit, Asher. Fuck me like you mean it! Stop being a freaking Boy Scout. I won’t break.”
He dropped to his elbows and gave in—to her demands and his desires.
Asher deepened his thrusts, and when she didn’t complain—he was fairly certain “fuck me harder” wasn’t a complaint—he moved faster…and yes, harder.
Fiona wrapped her legs around his waist and tilted her hips, and before he could slow his return thrust, he was all the way inside her.
He froze, partly out of concern for her and because it felt so fucking good.
Fiona dug her fingers into his shoulders, the nails piercing slightly.
“Fee.”
“You stopped again.”
It took him a second to wrap his head around her comment. She thought he was toying with her, attempting to draw out the anticipation.
Jesus.
He was a split second away from coming, and he wouldn’t have to move to do it.
“I’m never letting you go, Fiona. Ever.”
It was a pretty heavy sentiment to lay on her, considering where they were and what they were doing, but he wouldn’t take it back. He’d never meant anything more.
She gave him a sweet smile. “Ash?”
“Yeah?”
“I swear to God if you don’t finish this right now, I’ll cut that monster cock of yours off. Pop Pop has to have hedge clippers around here somewhere.”
He laughed, even as he started to move, tried to wrap his head around the fact he was really inside her. Fiona. His Fee. His fantasies over the years didn’t hold a candle to the reality. What’s more, he wasn’t wearing a condom. Another first for him. There was something primal and maybe even a little caveman about it, but he liked the idea of coming inside her.
Fiona really had been close. Three more thrusts and she was coming.
On the fourth, he fell with her.
Asher held himself above her for a few minutes, then slowly, gingerly withdrew.
She curled against his chest when he hit his back.
“Did I hurt you?”
“What?” Asher asked, thinking that was usually his question.
“My nails. I think I scratched you.”
“I’m fine, Fee.”
They lay there together in the silence, reveling in what had just happened. Asher tried not to acknowledge the very large part of him that was glad Owen wasn’t there. What happened this morning felt right, perfect, while last night had been…off.
He’d think about that later. Now wasn’t the time. Especially when Fiona said, “I don’t mean to nitpick, but I was promised five orgasms. That was only three.”
It was all he needed to hear. He spent the rest of the day giving her not only numbers four and five, but six and seven as well.
11
After spending the better part of Sunday in Fiona’s bed, she and Asher had declared Monday all business. Or at least, mostly business.
Okay, half real business, half monkey business.
Fiona rolled over in the king-size bed they’d stolen from Teddy in the suite and grinned as Asher slept the sleep of the dead, passed out on his stomach, his face turned toward hers, resting on the pillow as he breathed deeply, steadily.
They’d set up a reward system. For each scene they successfully revised and reworked, they granted themselves thirty minutes of fooling around, but not sex. That was the big carrot, the grand prize that Asher called “completion for completion.”
After ten hours of work, interspersed with kissing, fondling, sucking and stroking, they’d both been panting by the time they’d finally finished the fucking script.
Her stomach growled. She’d eaten precious little in the past two days, sating her hunger in other ways.
But now, her body ached in all the right places, and her stomach was done waiting for its turn. She walked out to the living room and grabbed her cell.
“Hey, Yvonne,” she said when her cousin answered the phone. “Any chance I could get a couple of tonight’s specials bagged up to go?”
Yvonne put the orders in for her, and they chatted a couple minutes more about the script…and then, her cousin less than subtly inquired whether or not Fiona would be sleeping in her own bed tonight.
She said no, ignored Yvonne’s “I knew it!” and hung up, promising to be there in half an hour to get the food.
“Fee?” Asher called out from the bedroom.
“Out here.”
He was in the doorway before she made it two steps back toward the bedroom. Like her, he hadn’t bothered to tug on any clothes. They’d actually spent the last two hours writing in nothing but their underwear.
“Come back to bed,” he said in that deep, grumbly voice that had her body responding before her mind could engage.
She started to walk toward him, then her stomach growled again. She stopped. “No. Food. I’m going to throw my clothes back on and head over to the pub. I placed a couple of take-out orders for us. Plus, I want to grab my toothbrush and pajamas.”
“Forget about the pajamas. You won’t need them. Bring the vibrator instead. I want to use it on you again.”
She shivered at the thought, recalling how incredible it had felt when he’d used the toy on her. So much better than when she played with it herself.
Asher grinned as her face grew hot with the thought. “Come on. Let’s get dressed and get the food. Otherwise, we’ll never get there.”
The two of them threw on their clothes and held hands as they walked along the cobblestone streets of Fell’s Point. Out in the fresh air, the thick, heavy desire that seemed impenetrable in the hotel eased, and she was able to walk and talk without the thought of sex constantly buzzing in her ears.
Sex with Asher was highly addictive.
She was surprised when he bypassed the pub and led her toward the waterfront instead, but she didn’t hesitate to follow him. It was a beautiful spring night and like him, she was happy to be outside in it.
Once they reached the water, he found a bench for them to sit on. They watched the lights from the boats and surrounding buildings twinkle on the smooth, glassy surface of the water.
“Fiona, these past two days have been some of the best of my life.”
She smiled. “Mine too. Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“The sex thing.” She tried to figure out how to phrase her questions. Asher really did seem like a different man in the bedroom, so domineering, so alpha. She wasn’t so innocent to believe that they probably hadn’t scratched the surface of his experience. “It’s pretty intense and…”
“Out of character?”
She shook her head. “No…yes…maybe? Where did that guy come from?”
He sighed. “You really want to talk about Christina?”
“No. Not exactly. I mean, I figured a lot of this…” She waved her hand around, her vocabulary failing her.
“This?” he questioned, but she didn’t answer. She could feel her face growing hot despite the cool breeze, which basically answered his question for him.
“The dominance? The hair pulling? The bondage?”
She nodded. “There’s more, isn’t there?”
Asher rested his arm along the back of the bench and she shifted closer, loving how it felt to nestle into him. “Yeah. There’s more. But, Fiona, I would never do anything without talking to you first, without making sure it was something you wanted too.”
“I know that.” She did. Because despite the beast who emerged in the bedroom, at heart, Asher was her Boy Scout, and that seemed to be the stronger trait.
“I like what we’ve done. A lot. More than I know how to say.”
&
nbsp; “I love being with you, Fiona.”
“I’m just wondering if…we could…”
She stopped. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if they could drop ménage from the kink list. God, she wanted to do everything else, but that…that wasn’t working for her.
However, Asher had been the one to instigate the threesome and, despite her reservations about it, she didn’t want to disappoint him if it was something he wanted.
Something he needed.
“We’re going to explore it all, Fee. There’s so much I—we—want to do with you.” He paused before leaning closer to whisper, “To you.”
She shivered, and the hormones she’d managed to shake off on the walk reemerged full force, and she reconsidered her request. They’d only tried it once. Maybe she wasn’t giving the idea a fair shake. After all, she’d loved everything else.
Owen would return tomorrow. Which gave her one more night alone with her sexy, commanding lover. She’d take advantage of it. Then tomorrow, she’d simply have to trust that Asher knew how to guide her and Owen the rest of the way.
“Let’s hurry up and get the food,” she said, standing and heading back toward the pub.
Asher didn’t chastise her for, once again, trying to rush to the good stuff. He took her hand and they walked back together. Yvonne had their food ready for them, so Asher said he’d wait at the bar while Fiona ran upstairs to pack an overnight bag.
Tris was behind the counter while Patrick was in what Fiona called his usual spot, dead center of the long, shiny mahogany bar.
“Pull up a seat, son,” Patrick offered.
Asher placed the food on the counter and refused Tris’s offer of a drink. He was in too much of a hurry to get Fiona back to the hotel. The clock was ticking on their time alone. They only had one more night together before Owen returned, and Asher intended to make it count.
“Yvonne reports that the two of you finished your script,” Patrick said.
Asher suspected there was very little her Pop Pop didn’t know about what was happening in his children’s and grandchildren’s lives—big stuff and small.
“Yep. It’s in the can. Rest of the cast will arrive on Thursday.”
“I hope my line didn’t change,” Patrick mused. “I think I’ve finally figured out a great way to say it to make it funny.”
Asher chuckled at the older man’s enthusiasm over appearing in the sitcom. The plan was to film the show right after the bar closed one night the next week. They’d tried to figure out a way to avoid closing the pub down for real business. Since the show’s script took place at night, and because they wanted to limit the number of people who saw it before it aired, they’d opted to film it at two a.m. on Monday night. They’d scheduled practices at that same late hour for Friday and Saturday nights, with a dress rehearsal Sunday at midnight—since the pub closed earlier that day. Apart from the cast and a handful of hired extras, everyone else on the set would be Fiona’s family. Tris and Padraig would be behind the bar, Yvonne and Sunnie waiting tables, and the rest of her aunts, uncles and cousins were lined up to be patrons.
“We didn’t touch that line,” Asher reassured Patrick. “It was perfect from the start.”
“Looking forward to Teddy getting back. I didn’t get to talk to him much. Everyone keeps telling me he’s a funny guy, but all I got was the boring polite routine reserved for ancient grandfathers.”
Asher laughed. “Give him a couple shots of whiskey and he’ll forget to be on his best behavior.”
“So noted. Fiona said Owen got called back to Hollywood for a big audition.”
Asher nodded, his chest going tight at the mention of Owen’s name. Then he realized something in his face had caught Patrick’s attention.
“Will that work for the show or does this mean the sitcom will end?”
“Oh, no. Filming for the movie would happen when Wild Winters is on hiatus. We’ve got a contract with the studio for two more seasons.”
“That’s good. So if it’s not the audition bothering you, what is?”
Asher wasn’t sure how to reply.
“I’m an old man, Asher. I don’t have time to beat around the bush. I mention Teddy, you laugh. I say Owen’s name, you frown. So, I’ll ask again. What’s the problem with him?”
Asher wasn’t sure confiding in Fiona’s granddaddy was the smartest thing to do, but he’d had too many worries bottled up since Saturday night.
“He’s, um…Owen is…”
“Interested in my granddaughter?”
“Wow. You aren’t kidding about just laying it out there, are you?” Asher raised his hand toward Tris. “I changed my mind. I’ll have a Jack and Coke.”
Tris shot his father a look, but Patrick raised his hands, palms up. “What?”
“You driving Asher to drink?”
“We’re talking. There’s nothing wrong with talking,” Patrick insisted.
Tris put Asher’s drink down in front of him and shot his Pop an “I’m watching you” look before walking away.
“Owen has been in love with Fiona since college.”
“He told you this?”
Asher nodded, recalling that night senior year, how drunk and depressed Owen had been over losing her. “Yeah. He did.”
“So,” Patrick said, “what do you intend to do about it?”
“Do?” Asher asked, swallowing heavily. “About what?”
“Don’t play stupid, son. You’re not stupid. You know what I’m talking about.”
Asher choked on the sip of drink he’d just taken, and Tris, who’d walked to the end of the bar, glanced their way, scowling. When Patrick rolled his eyes, Tris continued to take another patron’s order.
Patrick turned his attention back to him with a chuckle. “Take it easy, my boy. If you can’t say it yet, I’ll say it for you. You’re in love with my granddaughter.”
Asher felt as if he was standing on shaky ground. The Collins men were known for being overprotective of the women in their family. How the hell was he supposed to reply to Patrick’s accurate assessment? And what the hell did the older man expect him to do about his feelings?
“Have you told Fiona how you feel?” Patrick asked.
“Sort of.”
Patrick frowned. “How do you sort of tell a woman you love her?”
“I proposed a ménage.”
Asher held his breath, waiting for the man to either laugh him out of the pub, or call Tris back over to kick his ass.
Patrick did neither. “A noble suggestion. That won’t work in your case.”
“Why not? It worked for Sean and Killian.”
“Different situations entirely. Both of them were okay with sharing the loves of their lives with their best friends. I don’t think you are.”
Asher ran his finger along his glass, wiping at the condensation left there by the ice. Patrick was right.
“I hate it. Every time Owen touches her, kisses her…I want to punch him in the face.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“The thing is, me, Owen, Fee and Teddy have been friends for a long time. We’re practically family. No. We are family. And in Owen’s case, we’re his only family. I can’t do anything to screw that up.”
“Have you asked Fiona how she feels?” Tris asked.
Asher glanced up, surprised to see Fiona’s uncle standing there. It was clear he’d been eavesdropping the entire time.
Patrick chuckled. “And you call me nosy.”
Asher answered Tris’s question, grateful to have people to talk to about this. “I suggested the threesome idea and she went for it.”
“Happily? Or is she pretending like you are, afraid of hurting you and Owen?”
Asher didn’t know how to respond—because he hadn’t asked her outright. She’d said she was okay with it during the Truth or Dare game, but then she’d lost her nerve when their shirts came off. Asher had been too preoccupied with his own uneasiness due to Owen’s presence that he hadn’t r
eally taken the time to see if she felt the same.
Since then, they’d been on their own, without Owen.
And it had been perfect.
Bliss.
Patrick gave him an understanding smile as he said the words Asher didn’t want to hear. “You’re going to have to buck up, son, and tell Fiona and Owen the truth.”
“What if she wants all or nothing? Or what if…” Asher forced himself to voice his biggest fear. “What if she chooses him?”
Tris leaned forward, resting his arms on the counter. “I’ve lived a lot of my life thinking there was happiness in playing it safe, waiting for the right time. Then I met Lane, my wife, and I realized sometimes the only thing you can do is jump into the flames. This last year reminded me of that again as I watched my son with Mia…saw him open his heart to her even knowing how it would end. There’s a lot to be said for just opening your heart and going for it because even feeling the way he does now, Padraig has said more than once he’d do it all again in a heartbeat. And I know that’s the truth.”
Patrick placed a firm hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Life’s too short, Asher,” he said softly.
“I’m ready,” Fiona said, stepping up behind them. “Hey, Pop Pop.” She gave her grandfather a kiss on the cheek. “Been keeping Asher entertained?” She caught sight of Asher’s drink and lifted it, taking a sip. “With bourbon?”
They all chuckled.
“Did you want to hang out for a while?” she asked.
Asher shook his head, Tris and Patrick’s words striking deep and true. He and Fiona needed to talk. “No. We better head back or our food will get cold.”
He reached for his wallet, but Tris waved his money away. “I’ll put it on Owen’s tab.”
“Thanks,” Asher said, looking at Tris, and then Patrick. “For everything.”
He grabbed the bag and Fiona’s hand.
She waited until they hit the street to ask the question he knew was coming. “Thanks?”
Asher rolled his eyes. Of course she’d picked up on that. “Your Pop Pop and uncle were giving me some advice.”
“Advice about?”
“You.”
“Oh, shit. Listen. You already know all my faults, Ash. I’m opinionated and stubborn. I tend to think I know best on pretty much everything, and I might have a teeny-tiny princess complex.”