Taming Irish

by Seabrook, C. M.

  Thumbs latching into the waist of his jeans and boxers, he pulls them over his hips and down his powerful thighs, so that he’s standing naked in front of me.

  “Wow.” The word comes out before I can clamp my lips over it, and he chuckles softly.

  The man is gorgeous. All rippling muscles. But it’s his eyes that hold me, that pull me out of myself and allow me to be free in this moment.

  Then he’s crawling over me, his fingers latching on to the thin material of my thong, and pulling it slowly down my legs.

  On his knees, he lifts me up, pulling me towards him so that I’m mirroring his posture, and his hard cock is pressed against my belly. I place my palms on his chest, my fingers dancing across the dark ink that’s a mix of Celtic symbols and words.

  His fingers curl in the hair at the nape of my neck, tangling so that I’m forced to meet his gaze. His wild, green eyes stare down at me, his face flushed with lust.

  “Do ye know how easy it would be to bury myself inside ye right now?”

  I lick my lips, wanting him to do just that.

  “But I’m going to take my time with ye, love. And by the end of tonight, I’m going to know every inch of yer body as if it were my own.”

  His mouth covers mine, and once again I’m consumed by the man. He kisses me with a greedy hunger, one that matches my own.

  My entire body molds and melts into him. I’ve never known sensations so exhilarating, so intense. Every touch, every kiss, makes me even more desperate to have him inside of me, until all I can do is hold on to him and whimper for more.

  His mouth and hands explore my body, and I’m helpless to him. Arching and aching as his fingers are once again inside me, his tongue flicking at my clit, and I begin to shake from the sensation of it.

  So many times, I get close to coming, and he pulls back, that mischievous grin on his face as he moves to another spot that has flaming pleasure racing straight to my womb. His lips brush softly against the inside of my thigh. He gives my clit one last lick, before I’m flipped onto my stomach, the heavy head of his cock brushing up against my ass.

  He groans as a hand kneads one cheek, then gives it a small slap.

  His mouth is against my ear, when he says roughly, “Ye have a perfect ass, Makena.”

  I wiggle beneath him, needing the friction, willing to give him anything, even this, if it meant finally being filled by him.

  My fingers curl into the sheets as he kisses my neck, then trails his lips down my back.

  I’m not sure how much time passes. Minutes, hours, days. But Shane makes good on his promise to explore every inch of my body, and by the time he flips me over again, my body is wound tight, and I can feel my orgasm just out of reach, the pleasure a small torture.

  “So beautiful.” The blaze of lust in his eyes scorches me.

  “Shane, please,” I beg, squirming beneath him.

  He rips a condom package open with his teeth, then rolls it over the engorged head and down the thick length of his cock, then positions himself between my thighs.

  A low growl-like moan vibrates from his chest. “If there’s any part of ye that doesn’t want this, ye’ve got less than a second to tell me.”

  “I want this.”

  He thrusts inside me, and I suck in a breath as my body expands to take in his full length and thickness.

  God, I didn’t know anything could be this good. Especially not sex.

  I feel his every movement like our bodies are one.

  No inhibitions.

  No fears.

  Just pleasure.

  I’m so close to coming, and I cry out desperately. “Oh God…Shane. It feels so good.”

  Every slow, delicious thrust sends exquisite pleasure racing through my entire body, and then I’m falling over the edge in a mindless rapture, moaning his name as I clench around him in wild abandon.

  “Makena,” Shane growls, making my eyes flutter open and look at him. The blaze of lust I see there sears through me, as my body continues to spasm around him, removing all my defenses.

  And I’m no longer falling. I’ve crash-landed straight into the arms of Irish trouble.

  Chapter 12

  Shane

  I can feel my entire body tightening at the breaking point. The completely absorbed look in Makena’s eyes, and the way her soft lips part in rapture, enflames the pleasure racing through me. And when she cries out, her pussy tightening around my cock as her orgasm claims her, I can’t hold any longer.

  Her fingers dig into my biceps, and her back arches to meet my final thrust. A storm of sensation explodes within me, and I come harder than I ever have before. Deep, hot spurts that don’t seem to end.

  “My God, Makena,” I breath against her ear, when the waves of pleasure slowly dissipate.

  I don’t want to move.

  Can’t.

  I can feel her quick, uneven breaths against my shoulders, and the last reflexes of her orgasm squeezing around my still hard cock.

  Shifting onto my elbows, I glance down at her, overwhelmed by the emotions that stir inside of me.

  Shit. Not good, Hayes, my brain warns.

  I give her a small smile, then start to move.

  Makena watches me as I roll out of bed, discarding the condom into the fire. But I keep my gaze averted, because I know if I turn back to her, I’ll see it again, the one thing I’ve avoided my whole damn life – a future.

  I drag my hands through my hair and try to get the image of her face as we came together out of my head. Because, in that moment, it wasn’t just sex. Every goddamn part of me was there, open, exposed, raw.

  Never in my life have I felt anything so…overwhelming.

  The bed squeaks behind me.

  “Are you okay?” Makena asks softly.

  Shit. It should be me asking her that question.

  But I’m not. I’m the furthest thing from okay. I’m one hundred percent fucked. Because I know I’ve just broken my one and only rule. I let my emotions get involved.

  “Ye must be starving,” I say, taking the basket and placing it on the bed beside her, the sheets pulled up over her chest, her eyes now watching me warily.

  “A bit.”

  I pull out one of the parchment wrapped sandwiches and hand it to her, as well as a bottle of water, then grab one of each for myself.

  She picks at the sandwich, her eyes downcast, and I know if I don’t say something quickly, I’m going to fuck this whole thing up.

  Forcing a lazy grin on my face, I lean back and drag my knuckles down her bare arm.

  “Are ye cold?”

  She glances up at me and shakes her head. “No. I’m fine.”

  Bullshit. Even in the dim light I can see the insecurities that begin to surface in her eyes. Insecurities that weren’t there a few minutes ago.

  I’m not good at this. The after-sex stuff. Normally, I’d have my clothes on and be out the door. It’s what the women I’m usually with expect. No small talk. No cuddling. No talk about feelings.

  But hell, I know that’s what she needs right now.

  Roughing a hand over my face, I shift on the bed and take her half-eaten sandwich from her, placing it in the basket and setting it on the floor.

  “It’s still raining.” I crawl beside her and lean against the old wooden headboard, reaching one arm out for her to join me. “Looks like we’re stuck here for a bit.”

  Her brows furrow and she frowns, but she slowly edges toward me.

  I breath out, easing the tension once her warm body presses against mine.

  “I’ve never brought a girl here before.”

  She glances up at me, giving me a look that says she doesn’t believe me. “Right.”

  “Ye don’t believe me?”

  “The giant box of condoms would suggest otherwise.”

  I chuckle, which makes her frown deepen. “I stashed those here years ago. Perfect place for my mom not to find them.”

  She gives a little grunt and shakes her he
ad, then yawns.

  “Ye’re tired?”

  “I’m not used to…drinking in the middle of the day.”

  I pull her closer when I feel her start to pull away. I’m not even sure it’s a physical reaction, or more of a mental one, but it bothers me.

  I hear her small sigh, but a few seconds later her body slowly relaxes into mine. Her palm and cheek rest against my chest. Minutes later, her breathing has changed, and I know she’s asleep.

  I’ve never been one to be satisfied. No matter what life gave me, I’ve always wanted more, or something different. Only in my music have I ever found any real satisfaction.

  But here, now, with Makena, I feel that same sense of contentment.

  I know it won’t last. It’s just the initial rush of something new. That’s all.

  But it doesn’t make me want it, want her, any less.

  Chapter 13

  Makena

  A heaviness surrounds me, a disoriented reality that grips me physically. There’s a part of my consciousness that knows I’m sleeping, but I can’t wake up. As faces and voices stir in my subconscious, tightening my chest with fear, I know my altered state isn’t real. Still, I choke on the dread that fills my throat like a black liquid trying to drown me.

  “Easy, love.” A deep brogue pushes through the darkness, anchoring me back to reality.

  Knuckles brush across my cheek, and when I blink, sage eyes, warmed by the fire’s glow, stare down at me.

  “I…must’ve fallen asleep.” I shift, starting to sit up.

  Shadows flit across the room, the blazing fire the only source of light. Outside, the sky is black.

  “What time is it?” I frown.

  “Late,” he murmurs. His callused fingers trail across my shoulder, sending little sparks of electricity racing down my arms.

  Holding back the moan that his touch coaxes from me, I say quickly, “I need to get back.”

  “Do ye have another date ye’re needing to get to?” he teases.

  I grunt. “That wasn’t a date,” I remind him.

  He chuckles, burying his nose in my neck and placing his palm on the back of my head. “Right. Just friends.” His lips brush against the sensitive skin along my jaw and he croons, “I think I need more friends like ye.”

  A shiver of anticipation races across my skin.

  I thought that sleeping with him might ease some of the chemistry between us, but if anything, it only made it stronger. I recognize the stirring in my chest, the subtle warning that I’m already falling for the man.

  Better to put distance between us now than find my already damaged heart once again torn to pieces, this time discarded at the bottom of an Irish lough.

  “This,” I motion between us. “Isn’t going to happen.”

  He gives me a cocky grin. “Already has, love.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Not sure I do.” He flips me on my back and stares down at me with a goofy grin, his fingers playing casually with my hair, twisting and tangling.

  If I thought my legs would hold me, I’d push him away and get out of bed. I need to put some distance between us so that my brain can actually start working again.

  “I can’t do this…again.”

  “Why?” He tilts his head, giving me an amused look, like he knows he could be buried deep inside of me with a single touch. Which isn’t all that far from the truth.

  The man is addicting. But, like any drug, I know he’s toxic. At least to me.

  I don’t do casual hookups. My heart isn’t callused enough for it. To me, sex will always produce emotions.

  “Because my life is already too complicated without you in it,” I say, holding his gaze, hoping to God he’ll have mercy on me and walk away before I do something stupid like fall for him.

  He doesn’t.

  His head tilts slightly, the grin that seems permanently etched on his handsome face making him seem a lot less dangerous than he really is.

  “Trust me, sweetheart, I’m one of the least complicated people ye’ll ever meet.”

  “I doubt that.” He may come across as a typical playboy, but I’ve already had a glimpse of the man underneath the shallow, egocentric pretense he presents to the world.

  Shane chuckles. “Give me sex, alcohol, and music, and I’m the happiest fucker in the world.”

  I shake my head, holding back my own laughter at the man’s candidness. “And that is exactly why I need to leave.”

  He shrugs. “We can trek back up the hill, but it’s dark. Might as well stay here for the night and I can take ye back in the morning.”

  “You want to sleep here?”

  “I want to do a lot more than sleep.”

  “I told you-”

  His lips are on mine before I have time to protest, my body melting into his, already stirring with the pleasure I know he can give me.

  And I’m falling back into his arms. Into his embrace. His kiss. His touch. I give into him. Give him every piece of me, as he breaks through all the inhibitions and reservations I’ve hidden behind my entire life.

  Just sex, I try to warn myself. This isn’t real.

  I know the truth, but it doesn’t change the shocking bursts of pleasure that burn and flame within me at his touch. I lose track of how many times his name becomes a wailing moan on my lips. And I’m grateful that there’s no one near us to hear my wild, unabashed cries of pleasure.

  Hours later, curled in a stranger’s arms, in a small shack-like cabin in the middle of a foreign country, for the first time in years, maybe ever, I feel like I’m home.

  Chapter 14

  Shane

  There’s a chill in the air when the morning sun illuminates the small room.

  Makena is curled up next to me, shivering in her sleep. I brush her hair away from her cheek, trying to ignore the twisting feeling inside my chest.

  Friends.

  Lovers.

  Whatever name she wants to give us, I know I’m not ready to let her go. Good thing I don’t have to. At least, not for another six months. That’s when she’ll go home, back to the States.

  It’s almost a relief, knowing there’s a time limit on it. Almost.

  “It’s freezing,” she mumbles groggily, inching closer to me.

  “I’ll start a fire.”

  “No.” She turns into me and buries her face in my chest. “Don’t go.”

  I chuckle, wrapping my arms tighter around her, and tease, “One night of incredible sex and ye’re already begging me to stay.”

  She tenses in my arms. “I didn’t mean-”

  “Relax, love.” I nuzzle my nose in her hair. “I’m just teasing ye.”

  The moment is gone, and I can feel all her defenses building.

  “It’s light out.” She pulls away and shifts to sit up. “We should be going.”

  I sigh, rolling out of the creaky, old bed. “All right.”

  We dress in silence, and I’m shocked when I check my phone and see that it’s already close to noon. As if on cue, my stomach growls. Thank God it’s Sunday, because that means The Shamrock will be open for brunch.

  “I’m going to splash some water on my face and clean up,” Makena says as she gathers her clothes, then starts to dress.

  I watch her from the window as she makes her way down to the lake. Then, I turn to give her some privacy, checking my messages.

  There’s a text from my mom, reminding me about tonight’s family dinner, as well as a replicate one from Emer. But it’s the voicemail from my agent that has me wincing.

  “…still no lead on those letters. I have my people on it, but without a name to go on, there’s not much else we can do.”

  Fuck.

  “What will you do?” he’d asked, when I first brought him the letters.

  “Just find out if the kid’s really mine,” I’d said, knowing I’d do the only thing I could – be a father.

  Sure, I might be an irresponsible, selfish asshole most days, but I’
d never shirk off my own blood.

  Ever.

  I haven’t told the guys about the letters yet. Owen knows about the whole condom-breaking incident. But I don’t even know if the letters are from the same woman.

  If the kid is even mine. Or, if there’s a kid at all. It wouldn’t be the first time a chick tried to use a false pregnancy to get money from someone like me.

  But if the woman wanted money, why the hell hadn’t she asked for it? Why the secrecy, and the anonymity?

  What are the goddamn odds that the condom would break?

  Two to three percent, to be precise.

  I’d nearly lost my mind when I’d read that stat. Jeezus, it might be something they should put as a warning label on the goddamn box.

  Owen laughed when I’d said that, saying it was there in the fine print. But who the hell reads the bloody fine print?

  My cock hadn’t been the same since that night. I’d been too damn terrified that it would happen again.

  A long string of curses come from somewhere deep in my gut. Not just because of the potential kid that could be carrying my DNA, but because of the lack of control I have over the whole fucking situation.

  “Everything okay?” Makena’s voice cuts into my muttered curses, and I turn to meet her worried expression.

  “Yeah,” I lie, the first one I’ve told her. “Ye ready to go?”

  She nods.

  After I lock the place up, I lead her back up the hill towards The Shamrock, where my car is parked. It takes us twenty minutes, and each long minute is spent in silence.

  Usually, I hate quiet, but my head is spinning from the voice message and all the implications that could come with it.

  Makena seems just as stuck in her own mind, her dark eyes distant whenever I glance back over my shoulder.

  The parking lot, if you can call the triangular piece of gravel off the road that, is jam packed, and two cars block mine from getting out.

  “Looks like we’re having breakfast here,” I say.

  “Can’t you just go in and ask them to move their cars?” Makena asks, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.