Marry Me, I'm Irish

by JoAnne Kenrick

  There was a knock at the door. “Are you ready?”

  She recognized the voice; the cockney accent couldn’t be mistaken. Period.

  “Sandra?”

  “Yup, only me.” Sandra eased the door open and glanced in. “Need help?”

  “What the hell are you doing here? London is a long way from Belfast.” Sandra was a once permanent fixture at Bell’s who had since moved to run a hotel with her new husband. She was like a second mother to Devlin. Liz wanted to race to give her a squeeze, but Rachel held her still. She flittered around her, fluffing and buffing, retouching make-up. “We’re almost ready, just tuck this curl up here and, there, you look like a princess.” Her grin hinted at how proud she was of her work. And so she should be. Liz was a vision fit for a ball, or whatever surprise he had up his sleeve.

  Sandra blew her a kiss. “See you out here, babe. And you look fabulous. He’s a lucky man.”

  “Are you going to tell me why I look like Kermit the Frog yet?”

  “Mrs. Kermit the Frog, actually. No.” Rachel pushed the small of Liz’s back and guided her to the exit. “Go on, he’s waiting for you.”

  Now it was time, she was reluctant to leave and rocked back and forth and chewed at her bottom lip. This was Devlin. It wouldn’t be a trip to the ballet or a West End show. Oh, no. She’d be lucky if it was a posh meal in an expensive restaurant. Heck, it could be anything. Anything! Maybe her sneaky agent had told him the movie news before her and had arranged a surprise party? Yes, that was probably it. Excitement coursed through her.

  “Liz, you’ve got a lot to be happy about, so let’s see a smile, okay?”

  “How can I smile when you won’t bloody tell me what all this is about.”

  “I wish I could. I really do. But then it’d spoil everything and…. Just get out there. Trust me, it’s a nice surprise.”

  Oh well, the show must go on. She bounded through the door, striking a pose for a dramatic movie star effect.

  A mass of people snapped their attention to her then cheered and clapped. She knew most of them. Friends from school and college, agents, actors. Her parents, too. They were waving. Even her best friend was there, giving the thumbs up.

  Devlin sauntered through the crowd Travolta style and dropped to one knee. In a tux! He’d even swept his unruly brown hair back. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead and his lips quivered. “Will ya marry me?” He lifted his arm, a ring box cradled in his shaky palm.

  She dropped her jaw and twirled a finger through her locks. “It’s a joke, right? You’re taking the piss? Ha. Ha! Nice one. You can get up now.”

  “Baby, I’m serious. Breathe. Just breathe.”

  “I am breathing fine, thank you.”

  “Not ya, I mean me. Damned, girl, I’m so nervous. I love ya and I’m scared ya’ll say no. So, I ask again. Will ya marry me?”

  “Say wha-at? You are actually asking me to marry you? That isn’t some cheap light-up ring in the box?” She gulped and looked out over the crowd again, realizing if it was a prank, it was a really expensive one. Shit.

  “Oh. Wait.” He buried his head in his hands then glanced up at her. “I did it all wrong. I forgot the big romantic gesture. Hang on.” He clicked his fingers. The lights went out and twinkles sparkled above. Fairy lights? Where did they come from? Her hands shook violently and words stuck at her throat. She wanted to say no. Wanted to say never. Wanted to say...something.

  Their song kicked into gear on the jukebox. She glanced in that direction. Sandra hung off some young, tall hottie whom she assumed was her fella from Ireland.

  Could I be that happy in a marriage, too?

  “I want ta be with ya forever and a day in our little country cottage. Will ya marry me?”

  One of the dudes with a suit on slunk forward and asked if the bride and groom were ready.

  “So how about it? Liz, will ya marry me?”

  Shock engulfed her and she stuttered, “Maybe.”

  Light, bodiless. The room spun. Needing to sit, she hobbled to the nearest booth. “Is this real? What about the marriage license, how did you—”

  He scooted to her and planted kisses over her cheeks. His lips were warm, his touch tender. She turned to mush. Maybe they should marry. She had never loved anyone as much as she loved him.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Her voice dropped to a whisper.

  “So sure I went ta the trouble of arranging this. And a trip ta Belfast. So, ya gonna leave me hanging or ya gonna give me an answer? Marry me? Yea or nay?”

  “Yes...with bells on.” And white jackets and lots of cocktails. Where are the cocktails?

  He yipped then scooped her into his arms.

  Chapter Three

  He drove her blue Mini Cooper along winding country roads. She slumped in the passenger side, leaning against the window and staring out at the lush green land. Rolling hills, clusters of sheep taking care of their spring babies, and orange sky peaking over the horizon. Some would consider the scene idyllic. But Liz wasn’t considering anything.

  Almost dark. She hadn’t eaten for hours, and her tummy twisted and growled.

  Devlin shot her a side glance. “We’re almost there, and then I can do the honors of cooking ya first meal as me wife,” he rasped. “I arranged for the fridge ta be stocked with bacon and eggs and all that good stuff.”

  “Hmm, food. Yes.”

  “Everything all right, wifey?”

  Wife. I’m his wife. A shooting pain raced through her gut.

  “Hello.”

  “Yes, I’m fine.” And she probably would be. After a stiff drink and some time to get used to the idea.

  “Ya sure? Ya look a bit pale.”

  “I’m trying to catch up with you. Just how long have you been planning this?”

  “A few months.”

  “Wow.” Happy vibes trickled over twisting muscles and prickles scattered over her skin. “You really put a lot of thought into it. How did I not notice all your plotting?”

  “A master at surprises, that’s me.” He patted her leg, his hand warm through her jeans, comforting. “Here we are!” He parked and ran around the car to open the door for her. “Mrs. Kinney.” He hooked his arms around her, cradled her, and stumbled to the door of the cute little red brick cottage. It was old. She could tell by the small windows and beat-up door. A real cliche country cottage. And she could see a castle a few miles to the back.

  “Is that Ballygalley, Sandra’s hotel?”

  “Uh-huh.” He struggled to slot the key into the iron lock while holding her, but finally, the latch unlocked and he raced straight to the bedroom and threw her on a lace bedspread covering a soft queen mattress. There was little else in the room. No pictures on the walls. No knickknacks on the bedside table.

  Before she could comment on the minimal comforts, he lay next to her and whispered sweet everythings in her ear. “I love ya, Liz. With all me heart and all me soul, I love ya.” He kissed her and once again she got wrapped up into a frenzy of his full-speed-ahead mode. And she loved it.

  He kneaded her taut muscles, and she braced for an intense ride. Devlin’s lovemaking was always packed with the unexpected and pints of passion. “Yar so tense.” His baritone sent shivers down to her toes. “Let me fix that.” Grasping the waistband of her skirt, he slid the garment down her thighs, caressing her skin with the pads of his fingers as he approached her sex. Next, he unbuttoned her blouse, unhooked her bra, then circled her nipples with the tip of his tongue. Then he reached for the band of her lace knickers and yanked them down. Throbbing with need and want of his touch, she swept her hands over his bulky arms.

  “Hmm, ya are beautiful, Elizabeth Kinney.” He stepped back and licked his lips.

  She tingled when he said her name, and a shudder raced through her.

  “Bloody freezing in here. Why don’t ya hop under the blankets while I undress?”

  He wasn’t wrong. The night air bit her, sent goose bumps prickling her arms. Sh
e crawled under the blankets and waited to enjoy the show of her husband undressing.

  Devlin unzipped his trousers and let them drop to his ankles. Yanking his shirt over his head, revealing a toned body made for chocolate spread, he got caught in the material at his feet and tumbled to the ground. “Ow.” He clambered to standing.

  Her muscular sex god with a hard-on jutting toward her promised a lifetime of pleasure.

  How’d I get so lucky? Yeah, marriage isn’t so bad.

  He rummaged through his suitcase then retrieved a band about two inches in diameter with a bullet shape attached. “With this ring, I thee bed,” he declared, his chin high and chest stuck out. Stretching the band, he then wiggled it to the base of his shaft and clicked the end of the bullet. A buzz emanated around him.

  “Ahh, a vibrating cock ring. Sweet!”

  He crawled atop her, eased her legs open, and slid between them, his thumbs nudging her slit. She gasped, anticipating his invasion. She recalled how complete she felt with him inside, and her sex moistened.

  Thankfully, he didn’t make her wait.

  He plowed into her slickness, and her entrance stretched to accommodate him. The vibrating bullet pressed against her clit with each entry. She melted into his body, pressing into every curve and dip, lifting her hips in time with his to increase pressure from the vibrations. Jolts of delight shot through her with every thrust, tightening her tummy muscles, whirling her toward the edge. A burning sweetness spiraled from her core down to her toes, made her cry out, sink nails into his back. A million flutters exploded in her pussy. She quivered beneath him.

  “Hmm.” He slowed his pace, nuzzling into her. “Sounds like yar enjoying me treat.”

  She nodded.

  His hair smelled of honey and musk. She loved the scent of his shampoo and took a good whiff. Her nostrils itched as strands swept over her face. But she didn’t care and moved closer to him.

  She planted teasing kisses along his neck then moved to his lips. The subtle taste of peppermint and coffee lingered in his mouth from their stop at a roadside cafe. He swept his tongue over hers, his intensity increasing with each pound into her. The vibrations teased her entrance as he continued to pump in and out of her. If he kept this up, she might explode again.

  “I’m going ta come,” he rasped, going all caveman on her, his thrusts hard and furious. Their hips knocked together, his heartbeat thumping against hers.

  He grunted then confessed his love for her over and over as he spilled inside her. Like he’d been withheld from sex for far too long. But he hadn’t. It was only yesterday they’d last made love.

  She snuggled with him for hours, just napping and cuddling. Pretty darn perfect.

  Thankfully the kitchen was kitted out with pots and pans.

  They gathered an array of popcorn, crisps, chocolates, and hot cocoa then curled on the living room sofa and watched a late-night move on an old tube portable TV. Set in the 1940s in an English seaside town, the flick was about a rather promiscuous woman. It bored Liz, but Devlin seemed to get a kick out of all the shagging. His constant hard-on pressed against her leg throughout the movie.

  He nibbled her ear. “Wanna play?”

  “As in?”

  “I think there’s a shed out back?”

  “Are you feckin’ kidding? It’s bloody freezing out there. Besides, you don’t know who might be around. There might be cows out there!”

  He chuckled. “It’s three in the morning. No one else is up. And cows? Really? Even if there are, they won’t come near ya. Come on.” He leapt out of bed and slipped into his boots. “Race ya there?” He disappeared before she could blink. Out the back door, probably, as that was the quickest route to the shed.

  He’ll huff if I don’t join him.

  Who was she kidding? She wanted to run after him in her birthday suit, but she wasn’t that brave and there was no telling how cold it was out there. She wrapped a sheet around her, put heels on—the only shoes she had with her—then chased after him.

  Her nipples tightened as soon as she stepped outside. She spotted the shed beyond a few blackcurrant bushes so she headed toward it, pebbles crunching underfoot causing her ankles to wobble with each step.

  Moonlight and the glow of a candle shimmering in the window of the old shed illuminated her path. She hooked a hand around the door and pulled the opening a little. “Devlin?” she whispered.

  “Come in, me lady,” he called from inside.

  She inched forward. A blanket was spread across a hay bed, and white pillar candles set on a shelf flickered a warm amber glow across his lean body. He cast large shadows across the walls with his wide stance, and he cradled a bowl of berries and cheeses. A corked bottle of red wine and two glasses sat at his feet.

  He maneuvered around the picnic and wrapped a silk blindfold around her then bound her wrists.

  “Lay down, me lady.” He guided Liz to the makeshift bed and helped her down. Her tied hands made it difficult to arrange herself without falling. She rolled a few times, giggling as she tried to get comfy.

  Movement. A crunch. Straw crackling under his feet, she guessed.

  A rustling immediately to her right, then his breath tickled her nipple, which tightened under his warm exhale. He traced her tummy and down to her pussy, in circles, over and over. She wriggled, moist with need already. Even though his tickle was so intense it came close to pain.

  He dropped next to her and brought something small and waxy to her mouth. “Taste these. They come from the garden.” He eased the food in her mouth. Small. Round. A berry. She bit down, the sweet juice burst free and slid down her throat.

  “Hmm, blackcurrant.”

  He popped another in then parted her lips with his. He tasted sharp and woodsy, like fine wine. Kisses so sweet and tender, not expected considering she was blindfolded and restrained. She’d expected something more intense, like a spanking. Not that she was complaining. Sweet was just as thrilling as naughty.

  “What toys do you have up your sleeve, Dev?”

  “No toys. Just ya. Me. And some lovemaking.” He pulled the silk tie from her head and yanked the cuffs from her wrists. “I was going ta play with the food for a while, but I’d rather make love ta me beautiful wife.”

  “When you put it like that.” She winked then straddled him, her entrance so slick she slid onto him with such ease. Pulling her forward, he gripped her hips and guided her into rotation. Thick muscle rubbed all angles of her tunnel and hit her G-spot. He pushed her farther down on his cock and claimed her mouth.

  His mutterings of love and passion tasted so sweet. Her muscles tensed, she held on for as long as she could, tight, wanting to wait until he was ready, wanting.... She couldn’t think. Didn’t want to. He claimed her mouth with a hunger matching hers, and she surrendered to the passion of his kisses.

  A dizzying current raced through her and sent her into shuddering orgasmic heights.

  Anchoring her with his strong arms, he held her tight and spurted his warm seed into her. He completed her. It mattered not that they were in a tatty shed. Or that cows could probably see what they were doing. She only knew she loved Devlin. Wanted his babies. She couldn’t wait for married life in London to begin. They were going to be so happy. Together.

  Chapter Four

  Liz stirred from sleep. She tried to wake Devlin, but he murmured and rolled to his side. Promising a warm cup of tea would be waiting, she tucked the blanket around him then snuck to the warmth of the cozy cottage kitchen. She brewed some tea, poured herself a cup, and stirred, glancing out at the foggy morning. She caught her reflection in the window. A ratty, backcombed mess sat on her head, mascara smeared, and blackcurrant juice sprayed over her tits. Sticky.

  Yay. Welcome to married life.

  She vowed she’d jump in the bath after the drink.

  With him still sleeping, she had a chance to catch her breath. She tried to recall her wedding, wanted to muster up memories from the magical ceremony. Moments sh
e’d remember forever and a day. But the day had gone by in a blur of congratulations, Sweet Irish Kisses, and St. Patrick’s Day fun.

  She couldn’t even picture his face during the I dos. Reality sank in. She’d auto-piloted through the entire experience. Not surprising. It was one major throw-her-on-her-back-and-tickle-her-silly surprise. One she hadn’t wrapped her head around, even after spending the best part of last night traveling by train and then ferry to get to Belfast from London. That should have given her time to reflect. But she had spaced.

  Liz remembered the night before. She’d not forget that lovemaking session in a hurry. But was sex and attraction enough to base a marriage on? A lasting one. One that could see them living out their days in a cottage like the one she sat sipping tea in at that moment?

  “Top of the morning ta ya, honey!” He swung the back door open and rubbed his messy hair, a grin equal in size to the Joker’s adorning his chiseled features. He always played on the Irish thing when he was happy. Next he’d be asking her if she “felt lucky.”

  “There’s tea in the pot.” Her heart fluttered at the sight of him all naked and wiggling his bum like a frontrunner in “The Chippendales.” Hmm, maybe attraction is enough. “Want me to pour a cup?”

  “There’s cum in me cock. Wanna pour yourself a cup?” He chuckled then sang the teapot nursery rhyme, grabbing his hard-on when he got to the spout part.

  “Oh, my, Devlin. You are a cheeky devil.”

  “Don’t ya know it.” He kissed her forehead and sat beside her. “So how about it?”

  “No need for cream in my tea. I’ve got it covered.”

  “I could smear jam over me dick. Go on, just a taste. Nothing like a good banger for breaky.”

  “Sit down.” She sighed. He was joking because of the high from yesterday, but his chipper mood rubbed her the wrong way. Or more like his obliviousness to her downer did. “And have a drink.”

  “Married life not agreeing with ya? Ya don’t seem yourself.”