by Fifi Flowers
“Hello, Mother,” I said, putting my feet back down on a large, zebra-print rug placed under my desk which covered a good portion of the wood parquet flooring that was throughout the house, except for the bathrooms. “Sorry, I was working and couldn’t talk.” Not a total lie. “What’s up?”
“Ireland, you should come to dinner and at least meet him before we have to renegotiate our contract.” I could hear a soft, pleading tone in my mother’s voice.
“You signed an actual contract?” I exclaimed louder and in a tone that said “what the fuck,” which I would never say in front of my parents, ever. Gaining a bit of control, I stated calmly, a fact that couldn’t be denied, “Let me remind you that I am married so there is no reason to meet him.”
“You could tell your side of the story.”
“My story. You make it sound like I would be on trial for committing a crime.” There was no mistaking a big sigh escaping from my mother and I instantly felt horrible. I know they meant well, but… Maybe if they gave me some options and believed in me as a person… Shit! “I’m sorry, Mother. I never intended to hurt you. I had no idea that it was more about the business and less about my age and lifetime obligations according to family tradition.”
“No, I’m sorry, Ireland. We shouldn’t have used you the way we attempted. Old world traditions need to stop…” I couldn’t agree more because I refused to use that practice with my future children. “…but we already agreed and announcements were made and now we have some cleanup to do.” Another exaggerated sigh could be heard on the other end of the line. “You go enjoy your husband and we will handle the rest.”
The feeling of guilt hit me, but I could not go. “Mother, things will all work out fine and if the company needs help—” I bit my lip, then threw my shoulders back, sat up a little taller, and continued, “You know, I do have connections with all levels of commerce and marketing. I have paired up some pretty impressive companies—” I let my words slip away. What was I doing? Rubbing more salt into her wound. “Try to have a good time, Mother. I’m sure there will be another solution.”
That was pretty much the end of our conversation as she needed to go get ready and I had to get cleaned up and start thinking about making or ordering dinner for my husband. I giggled to myself every time I thought about marrying him and living our fantasy life in a little remaining bubble. Some fantasy I looked like at that moment. Jensen didn’t need to see the real crazy-busy woman that I had turned into lately—working from home, conducting business in my pajamas.
Wrapping up a few more items on my agenda, I shutdown my computer, and headed for a much needed shower. Fluffy, shiny hair teamed with subtle makeup was what I envisioned Jensen seeing when he walked through the door. Maybe heels and a slinky dress too, I thought to myself as I scrubbed, shampooed, and shaved. Water off, I stepped out of the stall and looked at my phone on the counter—that was providing a variety of music loudly—and saw that I had plenty of time if I hurried. That’s exactly what I did—blow dryer out, mascara, lip tint, perfume, and a magical hair curling wand to give a sexy, wavy look.
I was right on track minus clothes when I heard my name shouted. “Ireland?” I love to hear him say my name. “Are you home?”
Coming around the corner, I was thrilled to see the extremely handsome man that possessed that masculine tone—that was forever welcoming to my ears—walking into our bedroom. Damn! He looked amazing in his fitted suit minus a tie… and even better out of it. I was happy that I hadn’t gotten dressed and was still sporting a towel that I may have contemplated dropping as he neared me.
I was pretty sure he could read the smirk on my face by his words, “No time for that.” Stilling my hands from unwrapping the plush cloth, I waited to hear what would prompt him to stop me from revealing my goody bits. “I’m taking you out to dinner. Get dressed in something fancy.” He leaned forward, kissed my forehead, and moved toward the walk-in closet. “I need to find a tie.”
“Wow!” I knew he avoided ties as much as possible. “Must be a special occasion or a place that requires a tie.” I followed him and took the silk fabric from his hand, after I lifted his collar. I had learned as a young girl the importance of tying a man’s tie as I had seen my mother perform the task for my father several times. My mother said it made a gentleman feel special…and it came in handy when I briefly attended a prep school that required all students to wear one. I had mastered a few different knots thanks to a step-by-step tutorial video I found online…and I taught a few of my fellow students some of them. But nothing compared to slipping a tie around Jensen’s lickable neck.
“I love when you do that,” he said, looking down at my fingers as I completed a perfect Windsor knot. “You make me feel special…” I looked up into his dark brown eyes, patting his broad chest. “…and calm.” I smiled and he captured my mouth so yummily that I couldn’t keep myself from moaning and flinging myself fully against his body, causing the towel to slip to the floor. “You aren’t playing fair, Ireland.” Jensen let out a sexy groan.
With a little giggle, I breathlessly responded to him, “You have no idea…I can make you feel even more special.” Then I flipped his tie over his shoulder and slipped out of his grip, letting my knees hit the furry white rug topping the floor of the closet. In front of him, I unbuckled his belt, unhooked the top of his pants, and pulled the zipper down.
“Ireland…umm…” He never finished what I imagined was a protest that we didn’t have time.
Instead, his long fingers wove their way through my freshly waved hair as I licked up his length, once I had freed him. Taking him into one of my hands, I held him firmly and continued to explore his girth with my tongue. I was sometimes amazed that it fit inside of my tight warmth that was extremely wet with excitement. Moaning softly, licking, nibbling, and kissing every glorious inch, I rounded the crown, tasting his pre-cum, and felt my nipples pebble. How was pleasing him exciting me to the point that I felt tingles that threatened to build to an orgasm? With just a little help from him…or myself, I was sure to explode.
I had never touched myself with a man present but suddenly the idea seemed delectable and naughty. Jensen had me feeling, doing, and thinking about things I had never thought about actually executing. Sure I read about them in romance books, but with my lack of the total experience in the bedroom, I was often in virgin territory.
Shamelessly, my mouth sucked most of his length toward the back of my throat, and then slipped him almost all the way out. Over and over I continued this same move and his hands seemed to grip me a little tighter as if he wanted me to stay where I was, doing what I was doing. I wanted him to come completely undone with the magic of my mouth. I wanted him to tell me that no one had ever done it better. I wanted him to want me in his life forever and to say that he could never get enough of me. All of the things I had read in steamy literature.
I’m not sure if I imagined it or not, but I was pretty sure he breathlessly panted words that sounded like some of the phrases that I longed to hear. They spurred me on to remove my hand from his length and caress his family jewels along with my rhythmic up and down sucking. His increased moans and groans, had me wondering if I should’ve started down beyond with my mouth and worked my way up. I stopped guessing myself when I heard “so close” as if it was a warning, but for me it was a signal, that had me wanting to join him. That was the moment when I went back to holding him firmly again with one hand while I moved my free hand down between my legs.
“That’s so fucking hot, don’t stop,” he panted and I wasn’t sure if he was talking about what I was doing to him or myself as I saw that he had tilted his head down to look at me.
Whichever he meant, I did not disappoint as I finished us both off—even swallowing like a professional. Proud of myself, I released him with a pop, licked my lips, and stood up with a big grin on my face. “Are you sure we can’t stay home?”
“No, my hot, naughty girl…” He chastely kissed my lips before tu
cking himself back in. “…we have to make an appearance.” I wasn’t really paying attention to his words, as I wondered if he didn’t want to kiss me because he had just been in my mouth…or more like exploded in my mouth. I got my answer within seconds when he pulled me into his arms for a toe-curling kiss that didn’t last nearly long enough as he pulled away and instructed me. “Get dressed and nothing too sexy…leave that for later when we get back to worshipping your body.” And with a wink, he was out of the closet and I was rushing to get ready so we could hurry up and get back home.
Chapter Fourteen
Jensen
“Where are you taking me?” I loved the excitement in her voice and hoped that the evening would keep her smiling at me. “Some fancy penthouse party…rooftop restaurant?” Ireland continued to ask as we exited a hired car in front of an apartment building on Fifth Avenue across from the park.
“Not exactly…but something like that.” I escorted her in through an open glass door thanks to a doorman on duty and straight to three sets of brushed copper elevator doors. What I was doing was so wrong…an ambush. I should’ve told her in the car, I should’ve told her before we left the house, and I definitely should’ve told her as we traveled up the elevator. The word coward was synonymous with mine as I was afraid of Ireland running in the other direction or worse yet, refusing to go. I went with the element of surprise for the situation in question—right or very wrong.
“Good evening, Mr. Callum,” was the greeting that arrived when the copper doors slid open to reveal a grand foyer in the building’s penthouse apartment.
“This looks a whole lot like someone’s fancy home and nothing like a restaurant,” Ireland said as I guided her, at my side, forward into the space with my hand firmly planted on her lower back. “Love the floral arrangement.” I could tell by the way she was furrowing her brow looking around at the dark wood paneling and massive crystal chandelier above the flowers that she was getting nervous. The decor was a little over the top, definitely not my style—I was happy that our place was more homey and the thought of it had me wishing that we had stayed home.
“It’s my parents’ home.” That didn’t seem to help, but maybe the champagne coming our way on a tray thanks to a formally dressed server might ease her tension… and mine. Let the show begin I thought as we ventured further into the crowd.
However, she stiffened when an older, yet stunning, woman who reminded me of my own mother—stylish—came walking our way. Ireland addressed her as if she knew her well and was quite surprised to see her. “What are you doing here?” She definitely knew her, but it was the tone in her voice that was so strange—was Ireland upset?
“I was wondering the same exact thing,” the woman replied with an arched eyebrow as she continued to move closer to us.
My confusion escalated as I watched the two women hug awkwardly and talk quietly as my father walked up. “Son, glad you made it,” he said, embracing me as if he hadn’t seen me only a few hours earlier at work.
“He’s your father?” I heard the attractive woman inquire as she pulled back from Ireland with a shocked expression on her face just when my perfectly dressed mother joined us and greeted me with a kiss to each cheek—something new. Probably learned from the foreigners they were in cahoots with; trying to combine a merger and marriage into one.
“Yes, this is our son Jensen.” My mother smiled proudly, linking her arm with mine before realizing that my other arm was attached to Ireland. “Who is she?” I didn’t like the tone in her voice and was about to say something when the woman spoke up.
“My daughter. She said she wasn’t coming and then…imagine my surprise to see her.” I felt Ireland disengage from my side with a surprised look on her face.
“Your daughter?” My father asked, tilting his head and looking between the two women that looked very similar when I moved back and made my own assessment.
“Yes, our beautiful Ireland,” a man’s voice boomed from behind me and then he had her in his arms as my father had me only moments ago.
“I’m confused,” I said, looking around at everyone along with my Ireland who seemed to share my sentiments as she stood with her mouth agape. “Ireland is my wife. The woman I married in Vegas.”
“You married him?” Ireland’s mother was pointing her finger at me before waving her hand up and down in front of me as she continued, not sure if it was an approving tone or not. “This is the man you wed to avoid marrying a stranger? This is the father of your baby?” She suddenly sounded elated and smiled brightly before covering her mouth with both of her hands as if she was about to pray.
“Baby?” My mother asked first.
Followed by my father, “Baby?”
And then Ireland’s father, “Baby?” Apparently, her mother kept that info to herself.
The word seemed to be echoing around our closed circle, mere steps away from other guests, with me questioning lastly. “Baby? But we’ve been careful except for…but you were on your…” Not a discussion to be having in front of my parents or hers, I stumbled on my words.
“She was your virgin bride,” Ireland’s mother proudly announced.
“Virgin? But…” How was that even possible? A virgin. She didn’t act like a virgin. Although, I had never been with a virgin before—or to my knowledge—so how would I know how they acted? And she was twenty-nine years old…nearly thirty…and beautiful with a body of a goddess… “How…baby?” My focus was only on my wife. The woman I was supposed to marry as in arranged to wed. I shook my head in disbelief at the turn of events.
“Wait!” My mother looked as if a bell had gone off in her head and she needed to make a big announcement with her arms spread wide in the air. “Are you telling me that you two got married to each other in Vegas? Jensen Michael Callum, you married their daughter…our new associates’ daughter…the one we arranged for you to be marrying in a few weeks?”
“Yes, they did,” Ireland’s mother spoke up first. Can you believe the irony of the whole situation? They are truly a perfect match—meant to be…destined.”
I didn’t know what to say as so many thoughts were swirling through my brain. It was Ireland who brought me back with her touch to my arm and her soft voice, barely above a whisper. “Can we talk somewhere private?”
“Good idea,” my mother chimed in. “Take her into the library. We’ll hold dinner…oh, I am so excited to announce to our guests that the bride and groom-to-be have arrived and everything is a go as planned.”
“Wedding?” I turned toward my mother. “We’re already married.”
“No one knows and no one saw it. Everything’s set,” Ireland’s mother spoke up, wearing a smile nearly as bright as my mother’s.
“Mother, why would you not cancel the arrangements? I told you that we got married.” Ireland had moved out of my reach to confront her mother. “Didn’t you tell everyone that I eloped?” I watched Ireland dip her head as if she was trying to figure out a big puzzle and then she turned to me. “Didn’t you tell your parents about us?”
“Can we speak in private, Ireland?” I had so many questions and I wanted to explain the situation to her away from probing eyes that seemed baffled by the whole situation unfolding. In my experience, arms waving and raised voices are usually not a good sign.
“No…yes… Can you please take me home?” She looked up at me with her beautiful eyes the perfect shade of roasted almonds. “I don’t feel well.”
“Of course.” I moved to her and wrapped my arm around her shoulder. Then, with her tucked in close to my side, I walked her to the elevator, through the lobby, and asked the doorman to call our car while I held her tightly.
I had a million thoughts running through my head and I was certain that Ireland probably shared a few of the same ones right along with me. We had both thought that we were stopping…deceiving our parents by marrying each other. We were avoiding marriages that had been arranged for us, but not for us together…or so we thought. The wedding
Gods must’ve been looking down on us as we tied the knot in the Vegas chapel, chuckling wildly. I could just imagine our parents laughing and toasting to their good fortune, several stories above us, as we slipped into the back of our hired car.
The ride across the bridge was fairly quiet, but at least Ireland was up close to me with her head on my shoulder and our fingers were entwined. I wanted to say so many things to her about when we first met to just an hour ago in our closet. Things didn’t make sense to me and then again, they did since we had been avoiding the reality of our situation. The fact that we had both been running away from our family obligations and not—definitely not discussing them with each other. It was obvious that we had both told our parents that we had chosen other partners without revealing names. If we had been truthful in the very beginning, where would we be now?
Things up until the big reality check had been fucking amazing and I wouldn’t go back and do anything differently. If we had mentioned our parent’s companies at the pool, what would’ve happened? Would we have decided to get to know each other and go ahead with the arranged marriage? There was an instant attraction that continued after we moved in together and the sex was great…the sex…
My thoughts had come full circle back to the possible issue…issue was a terrible word…the baby…our baby. Was I going to be a father? Were we going to be parents? We had so much to talk about and I was happy when we finally arrived at our home.
Chapter Fifteen
Ireland
The car ride was the quietest one I had ever experienced in my life—so quiet that I fell asleep against Jensen. Our hands linked as one, smelling him next to me, it was easy to relax enough to drift off. No different than I had found myself every night in bed since we met, minus a brief time when I packed up my things to move in with him. I hoped that the revelation wouldn’t change things between us. It would be a shame if we went our separate ways because we had fallen into a trap that wasn’t really set or known.