Shamus (Welcome to Spartan Book 3)

by Ashley Lyn

  “He followed me to work, and traffic was shit. A bunch of dumb sheep behind the wheels this morning.”

  “It was road rage with a smile and a wicked middle finger salute,” Shamus says with a smile.

  I sniff because yes, I do. “I practice that shit. Nothing says “don’t fuck with me” like an angry middle finger.”

  “What were you listening to? I could see you smiling and singing in the car.” I seriously do not want to tell him this. I open my mouth to fib, when Tristan pipes in.

  “She listens to Disney show tunes during rush hour traffic. She says it calms her down,” Tristan says with a smile.

  I thump my head on the keyboard and give them all the double bird with my angry, commanding, badass middle fingers.

  “I’ll see you in the conference room, Shamus.”

  I hear the guys leave, and feel Shamus’s arms come around me from behind. He moves my hair off my neck and kisses the back. Nipple popping shivers break out, and I take a deep breath.

  “I think it’s cute you listen to Disney music, and every time you flipped someone off, it made my dick hard.” I turn and he kisses me, before making his way back to the conference room. I watch that glorious backside as far as I can without falling out of my chair.

  I’m nervous. Tristan wanted me to come in so he could go over something that they’ve learned about my kids.

  He comes in with a file folder and sits down, all business. Opening the folder, he places a picture on the table. Pulling it my way, I stare in awe at the two little redheaded kids playing outside.

  “As you can see, they appear to be happy and healthy. What we’ve learned is that the woman you see in the picture is Evangeline Porter. She’s the half-sister of Wilson Drake. She was kidnapped by the Skin Slingers two weeks after Wilson Drake was arrested. She appears to take very good care of the kids, and keeps them out of harm’s way as much as possible.”

  I look closely at the woman, and there’s a massive red scar that runs from her hairline, down to her jaw. As if he knows what I’m looking at, he says, “The scarring on her face is recent. We tried to find out what happened, but the undercover FBI agent hasn’t been able to get much information lately. The group seems to be getting antsy. I have two men always on them for this reason. One way or another, we will be getting the kids out of there. My gut tells me it’s going to be soon—days or weeks, I’m not sure. My men are under orders to remove the kids, as well as the woman, as soon as anything looks out of place.”

  I look at the smiling faces of my kids. It sort of feels like my chest is caving in.

  “We’ll need to get a DNA sample from you now and get it to the clinic so that they have what they need to compare the kids DNA samples to you as soon as we have them. I’ve already contacted CPS about the kids and explained as best I can, so they’re aware of your situation. Once the DNA test confirms that they are in fact your kids, the path should be smooth from there.” He stands up and holds out his hand. I can’t seem to make my fingers let go of the photo.

  “You can keep that one, I printed out an extra.” I shake his hand and sit back down. Nothing will ever compare to the feeling of seeing their little faces. I hear the door close and put my head between my legs, trying to get oxygen back into my lungs.

  Hearing the door open, I look up, and Savannah walks in. I smile and stand up to hug her, then show her the picture of the kids.

  She traces their little faces and looks at me, and laughs.

  “They’re like little Shamus replicas. You doing okay with everything Tristan told you? Are you all right to go home by yourself? I can go home early if you need me to.”

  I kiss her forehead. “I’m fine. Anxious and nervous, but good.”

  I look at the picture again, and I’m engulfed in a wave of relief so profound, I hold on to her a little tighter.

  They look happy, healthy, and whole, and I cannot wait to get them in my arms.

  I’ve been here for four days now, and every day is getting worse. My anxiety is fucking maxed out, and I feel like I’m falling apart. I feel like all I do sit and stare at their picture, and try and work off the anxiety.

  Savannah has been great. It’s like she instinctively knows when I need space, and when I need to talk. Living with her hasn’t been as difficult as I thought it would be.

  She doesn’t hover and hound me when she feels my mood sink. The physical attraction that’s been on a slow simmer for months is getting harder and harder to resist. I want so badly to get the sexy Savannah under me.

  The woman has an issue with pants. The first thing she does when she gets home is change into some sort of tiny as fuck shorts.

  Savannah is babysitting for her sister tonight at their house, so I’m here alone. I had a Skype session with my grief counselor, and talked to my mom for a bit. I’ve been thinking everything to death tonight. Without Savannah's distracting presence in the house, I haven’t been thinking good thoughts. The doubt and fear are creeping in. I finish washing my dinner dishes and come into the living room to sit down on the couch. On the coffee table is a movie and a note from Savannah.

  Shamus,

  In case you need a little entertainment tonight.

  Love, Savannah

  Picking up the movie, I burst out laughing. She had asked me what my favorite movie was the other night. When I told her it was The Odd Couple, the old one from 1968, she gave me a funny look.

  I explained that it was my grandfather's favorite movie. He was a character and a half, and my hero. He was an old cranky Irishman who was never seen without his kilt and a flask of whiskey. He had a wicked Irish brogue that made understanding him damn difficult. Every time I would go over to his house, we would watch this movie, and he would tell me all kinds of stories about Highland princesses and warriors. Dad says he was full of shit. His stories might have been, but the meaning behind each one had a purpose. I miss him every day, even ten years later. I wish I could call him up for advice. After he passed away, my parents decided to make the move to America, which is where my mother is from. Arkansas, to be exact. It’s why I still haven’t hung up my kilt; it’s my way of honoring his legacy.

  Picking up the movie, I laugh. It’s literally been years since I’ve seen it.

  Deciding to take a shower before I settle in for the movie, I head for the laundry room for some clothes.

  “Fucking hell.” My brain is shot. I put my fucking clothes in the dryer and forgot to start it, and the only thing I have left to wear is my kilt. Seems fitting, I guess, considering I’m going to watch Grand Da’s movie. Starting the dryer, I shake my head. I believe they call this kismet.

  I’m standing in my living room, leaning against the door, having an orgasm.

  Sometimes, you pray for things just because you think, ‘It would really be awesome if I came home to find a half-naked Irish man in a kilt, sleeping on my couch,’ not once thinking it would happen. I fold my hands and bow my head, thanking whoever was listening, because crap on a cracker, Shamus is sleeping on the couch, shirtless, in his kilt, and nothing else.

  He’s stretched out on his back, with one arm over his head, and the other resting on his flat stomach. I’m standing here panting, debating if it would be too creepy if I took a photo, or if I should try my hardest to burn this image into my brain.

  Setting my purse on the floor, I slide off my shoes and take off my coat. I’ve decided to do the non-creepy thing and go to my room to dig out the vibrator I took out of the garage the other day. I need to take this bad boy for a test drive. If there were ever a night to take a whirl on the deluxe model, tonight would be the night.

  I take one step and the floor creaks. Shamus adjusts his position by bringing one leg up.

  Penis.

  “Oh, Jesus,” I whisper. I literally melt. Well, that question is now answered. I jerk my eyes to the ceiling and make my way as fast and as quiet as I can past Shamus. The situation has just fucking nosedived into emergency orgasm territory.

&nb
sp; He has the coffee table pushed close to the TV, so he must have been doing push-ups or something. Just as I’m passing him, trying desperately not to look at the goods again, his arm shoots out and grabs my leg.

  His rough voice rumbles over my nerves. “Savannah.”

  I stop and look down at him. I know that lust is burning in my gaze like hell fire, and I should be embarrassed that I got caught, but fuck that.

  “How long have you known I was home?”

  “The very second you opened the door.”

  His rough hand starts making its way up my leg. My gaze locks with his and my breath stalls.

  “Shamus, I need…I have to…” My thoughts break off as his hand makes its way literally inches from where I need him so badly.

  “Shh, Savannah. Just breathe, baby.”

  “I thought we said we were waiting?” His hand slides another inch, and I can feel my orgasm hovering right on the edge. It’s been weeks since I’ve orgasmed. I feel embarrassed doing that with him in the house.

  He smiles at me. “Just let me take the edge off, baby.” His hand moves that last little bit. When his thumb brushes my center, my legs start shaking.

  The next thing I know, I’m lying on Shamus and his lips are on mine. I fucking lose it. His hands are working on the button of my shorts, and the next thing I know, they’re gone. He moves me so I’m on my side, with one leg hitched over his hip.

  His hand slides inside my drenched panties, at the same time he pulls away from the kiss. His eyes lock with mine, and my breath catches when I feel his fingers slide over my pussy.

  “Open your eyes, baby. Let me watch the pleasure roll through you.”

  My eyes fly open and connect with him as his finger slides over my clit, making my leg twitch.

  “Let it take you, baby. Just relax and come for me, sweet Savannah.”

  My muscles go lax for a half a second when his finger slides over me again. There are literally no words. Every muscle locks into place, and I fucking detonate.

  The orgasm that takes me is so fucking powerful, I swear I’m dying. His fingers slide into my pussy, and I clamp down on his fingers, prolonging the orgasm. The aftershocks are killing me.

  A sob breaks loose, mixed with moans as I ride his fingers. My hands come up and pull his face down for a kiss. Feeling his tongue slide over mine and his fingers inside of me, sets off another round of pure fucking heaven.

  My hands slide over his chest and make their way up under his kilt. He stops me and grasps both my hands, pulling them over my head.

  “I can take care of my little problem, Savannah. That one was for you.”

  “That’s not a “little” problem, Shamus.” He grins at me and kisses my nose.

  “Next time, I promise.” I pout and snuggle into his side when he lets my hands go.

  “Savannah, I can’t take care of this with you here.”

  “Yes, you can.” I would very much like to watch that.

  He shakes his head, making me pout again. I manage to peel myself away from his side and stand up. I lean down to kiss him, then make my way to the bedroom. Looking over my shoulder, his arm is across his eyes, while his other hand is under his kilt. Maybe if I just stand still, he won’t…

  “Get going, Savannah.”

  “Fucking shit.”

  I strip on the way to the bathroom and turn on the shower, making it a cold one.

  I just got in from a run, and there’s some god-awful noise coming from the living room. I shortened my run today because I didn’t sleep for shit last night, and ended up staying in the other bedroom. I was having an ‘oh shit’ moment when I thought about flying back with both Chloe and Aiden.

  I peek around the corner, and there she is in all her glory. Sweatpants bunched up to her knees, a tank top, and a crooked ball cap, rapping.

  Or trying to, to Eminem. Then she does this dance move that has my dick twitching.

  She’s bouncing her ass in this mesmerizing way. “What do you call that dance move?”

  She answers before her brain catches up to the fact that I’m watching her dance and rap. “Twerking.”

  She drops the brush she was using as a microphone.

  “I like it.”

  She looks over her shoulder at me, then glances down to my crotch. Her eyes go unfocused, and she nibbles her lip. Feeling a bit cocky, both literally and figuratively, I give my hips a bit of a thrust, and she jerks her eyes up to mine.

  Walking over to the couch, I push the coffee table to the side. “Dance for me, Savannah. Let me see you do that thing again.”

  She clenches her fists at her sides. I get up and come over and run my hands along her arms. Leaning down, I kiss the side of her neck. “Come on, Savannah. Dance for me, baby.”

  “Headband” by B.o.B and 2 Chainz comes on, and she takes a deep breath, and this beautiful girl starts to dance for me. She’s moving her hips and ass in a breath-stealing rhythm. My hand comes down and gives her ass a bit of a smack. Sitting down on the couch, I rest my arms on the back of the couch and adjust my shorts, as they’re tight as fuck right now.

  It’s like she’s let go completely, and the music is flowing through her veins. She looks sexy like this. She turns around, and her hands go to my knees. Pushing my legs farther apart, she straddles my hips, continuing her dance.

  Placing my hands on her hips, I slide my hands up under her shirt and jerk it over her head. Her braless breasts are the first and only things I see. Her perfect berry nipples are pebbled up and begging for my mouth.

  My hands go to her lower back, and I coax her forward while she continues this bump and grind she has going on. Sucking her nipple into my mouth, my other hand comes up to play with her other nipple. Her rhythm falters, and her head drops back as she moans.

  Fucking music to my starved ears.

  “Get on your knees, baby.”

  She slinks down to the floor and onto her knees. She’s looking up at me with those beautiful blue eyes, and I almost come in my fucking shorts.

  I slide my shorts and boxers down. Wrapping my hand around my cock, I give it a couple of long, slow pulls. Reaching down, I pinch her perfect nipples, still wet from my previous attentions.

  “Put your hands on my thighs, and don’t move them.” Her hands grip the backs of my thighs and she looks up at me through her eyelashes, almost causing me to blow.

  She licks her lips and I reach out to grab her ponytail, guiding her mouth to where I want her.

  “Lick it, Savannah. Get it nice and wet, baby.”

  I watch as a drop of precum leaks out and runs down the side of my cock. It’s fucking angry looking and purple. That single drop stands out like a fucking beacon.

  She leans down and licks the drops so fucking delicately, I can’t help but moan. Leaning forward, she starts licking every fucking inch of my cock.

  She works her way down and swipes her tongue across my balls that are sucked up tight to my body. Both my hands slide into her hair and pull her head up.

  “Take off your pants, baby.” She hesitates for a second. “If you don’t want this, all you need to do is tell me.” She puts her hands on my knees and stands up to slide her sweat pants down and off. “You’re so fucking beautiful, baby.”

  Standing up, I get behind her, crowding her space. “Kneel on the couch, hands on the back.”

  There’s no way in hell I will ever get the image of her bent over, ass and pussy in the air, out of my brain. Leaning down, I swipe my tongue through her dripping wet pussy. She yelps and jerks forward.

  I grab her hips to steady her and spank her ass. “Don’t fucking move, Savannah.”

  She leans her forehead down on the back of the couch, and I do it again. Taking my time, I lick and suck every beautiful pink inch. Her whole body is shaking, and her pussy is fucking dripping.

  “Are you on birth control?”

  She doesn’t answer, just fucking moans so loud and deep, I smile against her, then I spank her again.

&
nbsp; “Answer me, Savannah.”

  “Y—Yes, I’m on the pill. I’m c—clean, just had my tests ran last month.”

  I press a kiss to each ass cheek. “Me, too, baby. I’m going to take you bare. I want to feel every fucking inch of this pussy when I take you.”

  I put one knee on the couch and line up my cock, and slowly start to work my way in, inch by inch. By the time I bottom out, I’m kissing her cervix. Holding myself as still as possible, her pussy if fluttering around my cock, and I swear to Christ, my eyes fucking cross.

  Pulling out, I slam back in. She screams and reaches back to grab my wrist.

  “Harder! Oh, God, Shamus!”

  My control is fucking shattered and I take her rough, fast, and hard.

  Reaching down around her body, I rub her clit. “Get there, Savannah. Come for me.”

  “Shamus!” Her pussy bathes my cock in heat and moisture as she clamps down on me. Three short, deep thrusts later, and I’m pumping into her body.

  It takes me a ridiculous amount of time to get my breath back. Pulling out, I watch in fucking awe as my cum leaks out and runs down her thighs.

  Snagging her tank top, I clean her up and we get situated on the couch with her on top of me. We’re both sweaty and exhausted.

  “How was your run?”

  “It was good. What are we doing today?”

  “Thought we would take a trip to the book store, then stop at Beau Jo’s Mountain Pies.”

  “Sounds good, but what the heck is a mountain pie?”

  “Fucking heaven, is what it is.”

  “When are we leaving?”

  “As soon as I can feel my legs again.”

  My body is still humming after the incredible morning I had with Shamus. My heart was invested before the incredible sex we had this morning, but now? Ass over fucking tea kettle, I want this man for my husband, and I want his babies. It took everything I had in me not to tell him that I loved him.