Black Irish

by Tricia Andersen

  As Abbey relished bite after bite, she listened attentively to the men’s conversation. It was now obvious that the formal business relationship they portrayed of an insanely rich businessman and his associates was a façade. These men were the best of friends.

  Gordon treated Sloan as if he were his son, not his employer. Bartholomew seemed to be the little brother, soaking up the other three with awe and reverence and taking the teasing from them good-naturedly. The adventures they reminisced about were legendary. Being thrown out of bars in Europe, comparing teahouses in the Orient, surfing in Australia—there wasn’t anything these four hadn’t seen or done.

  Abbey was startled from her trance by the sensation of a large, warm hand enveloping hers. She glanced up for the possessor of the hand, finding Sloan’s beautiful blue eyes smiling at her.

  “Let’s dance,” he suggested.

  She stared at him for a moment. Sloan dance? It didn’t seem possible. She slid from her stool and obediently followed him to the dance floor. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she laid her head on his chest as he held her close.

  Intertwined, they swayed while the sultry notes of U2’s “With Or Without You” floated overhead. Abbey sighed quietly at the feel of his hard, sculpted body pressed against hers. She never wanted this song to end.

  As the final notes echoed through the room, she felt his fingers under her chin, nudging her head up. As she lifted her face to him, he engulfed her mouth with his. She clung to him, her heart racing, her body trembling as his hands caressed her closer.

  Their lips parted as silence fell across the dance floor. Sloan took Abbey’s hand in his and started back to the table. He stopped when she didn’t move.

  With a shaky finger, she pointed toward the bar. “I’m going to get another glass of wine.”

  “Let me get it for you,” he insisted.

  “No, it’s okay. I’ll be back in a bit.”

  Sloan stared at her for a moment then nodded. He let go of her and made his way through the crowd.

  Abbey leaned against the bar rail and squeaked her order to the bartender. She could feel her whole body still quaking. It was why she had refused Sloan’s offer to get her another drink. She needed a moment to herself to calm down.

  Abbey didn’t want to want Sloan. She knew that by law he was her husband. But she had already been burned by Michael. If someone as simple and stupid as Michael could hurt her by leaving, what damage could Sloan do when he was done with her?

  There would be nothing left. Sloan would destroy her. Abbey couldn’t…couldn’t…fall in love with him.

  She was pulled out of her thoughts by a body pressed close to her. This is so not what I need from Sloan right now.

  “Hey, sweet thing. Can I buy you a drink?” a deep, drunken drawl breathed in her ear.

  She pulled away. The man gave her a goofy grin, his blond ponytail bobbing from one side to the other. His tight fitting New York Mets T-shirt sported a little beer gut. He reeked of booze and cheap cologne.

  “No, thanks.”

  “Aww, baby. I want to get to know you. Don’t you want to get to know me too?”

  “Not really.” Abbey glanced down and caught her gold band glimmering in the low light. Might as well use it. She raised her hand to display the ring. “I’m married.”

  “I bet I could do things to you your husband can’t.”

  Doubtful. “Thanks for the offer, but I have to go.” Abbey turned toward the direction of the table. She would just have to leave her drink to get away from this guy. She gasped as she was yanked back around.

  “You aren’t going anywhere.” The drunk pulled her to him, prying her lips apart with his. Abbey gagged at the taste of cigarettes and beer. She struggled and beat on his chest until she could pull free.

  “Let me go!” she screamed.

  Then, like a stroke of summer lightning piercing the sky, a fist flew over her head, connecting with the man’s nose. At the same time, an arm snaked around her waist to keep her on her feet. The drunk fell onto the cement floor.

  Instinctively, Abbey spun into the broad chest behind her. She was shaking again, but this time from fear. The thin material of Sloan’s T-shirt was a huge comfort. Then, she felt instant guilt in his arms. What does he think of another man kissing me?

  “Are you all right?” Sloan asked, his Irish brogue filled with concern.

  She couldn’t find her voice. She nodded. He let her go, nudging her behind him. Abbey noticed a crowd had gathered around them. She also noticed Gordon, Robert, and Bartholomew flanking Sloan. It was far more intense than guys having their friend’s back in a bar fight. The level of protection was confusing.

  “Why were you kissing my wife?” Sloan demanded from the drunk, who was still sprawled on the ground.

  “Dude, she was kissing me! She started it!” the man accused as he mopped at the blood dripping from his nose.

  Sloan squatted next to him. “I know what I saw, and I know my wife. If I ever catch you anywhere near her again, you won’t stand up. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, sir,” the drunk whimpered.

  Sloan smiled in triumph as he stood. Taking his wallet from his back pocket, he slipped two one-hundred dollar bills from inside and tossed them on the bar. Sloan glanced at Gordon, Robert, and Bartholomew as he took Abbey’s hand in his.

  “It’s time to go home,” he announced.

  Chapter Twelve

  Abbey stretched her arms sleepily as she arched her back against the soft cushions of the sofa. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Her fingers haphazardly caressed the worn cotton squares of the patchwork quilt tucked around her. She smiled to herself. Sloan must have laid it over her after she had dozed off.

  Since their night at the pub had concluded early, Sloan had brought Abbey back to the penthouse with him. Actually, he didn’t give me much of a choice. The ride home had been direct and silent. That was all right with Abbey though. She loved watching Sloan at work. All the errands she ran before she met up with the guys had tired her out.

  She looked up as she heard a pain-filled moan. “Sloan, are you all right?”

  Sloan sat hunched at his easel with his back to her, his latest creation for their book half brought to life in vivid color before him. He rubbed his bare shoulder with his fingers, leaving rainbow stripes of pastel dust raked across his hard flesh.

  “Sloan?”

  He answered her finally with a grunt.

  “Is your shoulder bothering you?” she persisted.

  “That lunatic at the bar,” he spoke in his thick, Irish brogue. “I wrenched it when I hit him. I can’t even hold the pastel sticks anymore.”

  “Let me rub it.” Abbey stood, gently laid the blanket across the back of the couch, and crossed the loft to him. She listened to him exhale as she kneaded the tight muscles. She paused briefly at the foreign touch of a caterpillar-like scar that began at his shoulder blade and trailed to his mid back. She closed her eyes as she felt his muscles loosen, his body relax, and his breathing become easier.

  Abbey pulled her hands away as Sloan slowly spun his chair around. He grasped her hips in his hands and pulled her between his legs. He slowly manipulated the buttons on her sundress, leaving bright colors of dust on the white fabric. His hands explored her warm skin as he buried his face against her stomach.

  Abbey gasped as she wove her fingers through his unruly black locks. She felt herself tremble at each soft kiss he placed on her flesh. Sloan tugged her onto his lap.

  “Abigail,” he purred, “I know I have pushed you into many things, but I won’t this time. If you don’t want this, please tell me now.”

  “I’m not leaving, am I?”

  Sloan let loose a deep, low growl as he ripped free the final few buttons of her sundress. He pressed his lips against the curve of her breasts, restrained from him by the lace of her bra, slowly weaving a path across her neck to her cheek. She parted her lips as his mouth descended on hers, his tongue searching
hers out and caressing it.

  She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, surrendering to his touch. She lost herself in the sensual bliss of his deep, warm kisses, her heart running wild as she felt his hands caress her hair, her naked back, and her buttocks as he pulled her closer to him. She heard herself moan at the hardness that pulsated against the thin denim of his jeans.

  Just as suddenly as his passion ignited, Sloan pulled free from her. A soft grunt echoed from his throat as he stood her up from his lap. “Just stay here,” he commanded. Without a word, he dashed up the stairs. A minute later he descended. He strode to the foyer, tugging his thin, gray T-shirt on as he went. He pulled on his tennis shoes and left with the slam of the door.

  Abbey pulled the remnants of her sundress around her as she leaned against the arm of the sofa. She frowned as she stared at the door. What the hell just happened?

  She stewed alone for a couple of moments as she watched the clock on the wall tick away the moments. It was already late. She just hoped Gordon was willing to take her home. What if he’s in bed already? Crap. I’m going to have to take the subway. Great. She sighed before she straightened, grasping her purse from beside the couch. “Screw him,” she muttered to herself. “I couldn’t care less what he wants right now. I don’t have all night. I’m going home.”

  Abbey turned as the foyer door opened. Sloan stared at her from the doorway then slowly stepped in, latching it closed behind him. He kicked off his shoes. With the flick of a wrist, he tossed a small box onto the end table. He peeled his shirt off and dropped it on the sofa. Crossing the loft to her, he tugged her sundress open and slid the straps from her shoulders.

  He chuckled softly as he brushed his fingers across her cheek, letting them drop to her shoulder then across the curve of her breast. She shuddered at his touch. “Forgive me, luv. I am such a fool. It’s been so long I don’t have the proper precautions. I just want to play it safe, luv,” he consoled in a soft, sensual whisper. He brushed his fingers against her stomach. “I just want you safe.”

  Abbey cocked a smile at him. “You could have said something before you stormed out of here. I was wondering if I was too much woman for you and scared you off,” she teased.

  “Hmm. I’d like to find that out. I never back down from a challenge.”

  Abbey grazed his lips with her finger, she urged them apart then sank into them with her own, the taste of him fueling her desire to touch him, to feel him inside her. She trembled as his hands clenched her ass and dragged her tight against him.

  Sloan trailed his strong fingers against her spine until he reached the clasps of her bra. He gently released them, tugging it off and letting it fall to the floor. He cupped her breast in his palm, massaging her soft, pink nipple until it pressed hard against his thumb. He dove against the curve of her neck and roamed with hot kisses.

  Mindlessly, Abbey reached for the waist of her sundress, pushing it and her panties to the floor. Sloan took a step back, gazing at her bold nakedness in awe before taking her hand in his. Picking up the box of condoms in the other, he led Abbey up the L-shaped, suspended staircase to the loft…and his bedroom.

  She took the room in for a moment. It surprised her. Abbey expected to see dark fabrics and leather. Instead, his large, oversized bed was covered with a thick, white down comforter. The furniture was made of dark, maple wood with deep ingrained veins.

  Then, she forgot what the room looked like as Sloan sat on the mattress, tugging her down to straddle his lap. She obeyed silently, burying her fingers deep in his ebony hair before placing a deep, slow kiss on his mouth.

  He cradled her breasts in his hands, lifting one to his lips and slowly circling the tip with his tongue. Her cry of pleasure must have drove him wild because he drew it into his mouth, suckling hard and quick, making her writhe in his embrace. He turned to the neglected nub and did the same. Abbey hugged her arms around his shoulders to press herself against him.

  Sloan wrenched the zipper free on his jeans as she bravely searched for his tongue with hers. He nudged her off his lap to kick them free. In only a moment, he tugged her back, the condom box lying in pieces on the floor. Before he could rip the package open she wrapped her hand around his. “Let me.”

  His voice was a deep purr. “By all means, lass. Don’t let me stop you.”

  Abbey tore the package open and slipped the condom out as Sloan climbed to the middle of the bed. Her fingers shook as she wrapped her fingers around him. She could have sworn she heard him moan as she slowly slid it over him. She definitely heard him breathe a few colorful curse words.

  He grabbed her wrist and pulled her on top of him. His fingers grazed the soft flesh of her thighs as she straddled his hips.

  “Sloan.”

  “Yes, luv.”

  “I don’t know how to say this.”

  He cocked a questioning eyebrow at her. “Say what?”

  “I’ve actually never…slept with a man before.”

  Abbey was nearly bucked off his lap as he sat up. “What did you say? You’re not a…”

  “Ever been with a virgin before?”

  He stared at her in silence. His sinful grin broke free. “No. But as I said, I never back down from a challenge. But this does change things a bit.” Without warning, he grabbed her waist and lifted her off his lap and sat her on the bed. He crawled off the mattress and disappeared into the closet.

  “What are you doing?” she questioned.

  “Just wait.” He returned with one of his silk ties in his hands. Her eyes wandered all over his naked body as his long strides brought him back to the bed. She couldn’t breathe. The sight of him was incredible.

  “For being a virgin you did a bang up job with the condom.”

  “Health class. I put one on a banana.”

  He nudged her down as he stretched out beside her. Then he carefully took her wrists in his hands.

  “Sloan?” Her eyes grew wide as he wove the tie around her wrists and bound them together over her head. “I’m not sure I’m into this kind of thing.”

  “I’m not introducing you into that kind of thing. I want you to feel. Let me give you pleasure without you interrupting.”

  “Okay, but I don’t…ohh…” Abbey’s body arched off the bed as Sloan’s mouth began its journey over her body beginning with one soft, pink nipple. She bit her lower lip as he sucked while his large hand kneaded the other. She looked down, the sight of his large body feasting on hers. She clenched her legs around his hips. “Please.”

  His hand slipped between her thighs until his finger was deep inside her. “Not yet. You’re not ready yet.”

  Abbey whimpered at the invasion. Sloan slipped another digit in and slowly thrust, his eyes glued to hers. She couldn’t help but roll her hips to meet him. A knot grew in her belly, tightening with ever stroke.

  “Sloan.”

  His hand picked up the tempo as he nibbled at her nipple again. His free hand skimmed up her body until it tugged the tie loose. She wove her fingers his hair as the knot exploded, every nerve set on fire. She trembled as she felt him pull his fingers from her and crawled up her body.

  Her eyes met his as he hovered over her. He let out a growl. “My turn.” She clung to him as she felt the tip of him nudge against her for just a moment. His hips rolled into her as he dug deep inside.

  Abbey cried out at the invasion as a quick, sharp pain radiated through her. Sloan stopped, holding himself still as she adjusted. His fingers were one thing. Now he filled every aching inch of her and then some. She was the first one to move, her body arching against him, the need to feel the friction almost unbearable. Her mouth tasted his skin. Her tongue weaved a hot, wet path along the ink embedded in his flesh. Sloan tugged her face to his to devour her lips. He held her close as he buried himself over and over inside her, his mouth tasting every bit of her it could find. His hands held her head still, his eyes locked to hers, as his tempo picked up. He cursed as each thrust pierced her deeper. She cried out
as another rush tore through her, hotter and more violent than the last. Sloan groaned as he rocked his hips slowly, rolling through his release, the last of it leaving him trembling.

  Sloan buried his face against her neck. “I have wanted you all my life. I have dreamed of this night all my life.

  Abbey stared at Sloan in disbelief.

  She pulled from his arms and sat up, tucking the covers around her. “I’m sorry. What did you just say?”

  He sat up with her. “Abigail, what is it?”

  “I don’t understand you. You hardly know me. You’ve even said there are things I don’t know about you. How could you want me all your life?”

  “Abigail, do not be so—”

  Abbey slipped out of the bed, crossing the bedroom to the windows that overlooked the street below. “Don’t call me naïve. I’m no longer naïve. I can’t keep up with you. I can’t figure it out.”

  Sloan stood up and strode across the room to her. She held her breath in awe as the moon and neon lights from outside illuminated his naked body. His tattoos were shadows across his skin.

  “Then I will explain it to you as plainly as I can, my lady,” he whispered. “Abigail, you are the most incredible woman that I have ever met. I have thought that since I laid eyes on you. I know enough about you to know that and that is all I need to know.” He brushed a lock of hair from her face as he continued, “I need you, Abigail. I see my babes when I look in your eyes.”

  “Sloan, I—”

  He nuzzled his nose against her ear. “Stay tonight. With me. Wake up with me tomorrow. Please?”

  She nodded. He pulled her into his arms and held her tight. She laid her head on his chest sighing happily. He led her back to the bed, pulling her down on the mattress with him. They sank beneath the covers once again.

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