Scrupulous (An Affliction of Falling Novel Book 1)

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Scrupulous (An Affliction of Falling Novel Book 1) Page 17

by Canady, Kristina

“Help you out? If you don’t know, give me my fucking beer back and bugger off.”

  “You act like I have something to be sorry for?”

  “That’s it; give me the beer and leave.” I reach across his chest in an attempt to grab it. He holds it back from my reach and dares me with one look. “You really need a hint, fine. Don’t make plans with someone, never show or call, and drop off the face of the planet. She may be stupid enough to think that you may be a man of your word and jump to false conclusions like you may have been hurt or something crazy because a man of their word who was working so hard to establish trust would never do such a thing.

  “But no, you were not hurt, lying in a ditch somewhere. You were working over another piece of one of your many asses, just like I had been to you. You wanna know the funny part? It’s not being treated like another nick on the headboard─ that doesn’t bother me. It is the fact that I was stupid enough to fall for it all, and I know better. I play the game just as much as you,” I seethe and pull from my beer in an attempt to cool my jets, my blood pressure soaring in my ears.

  “Don’t act all innocent; you were parading around on Devon’s arm like a goddamned peacock, enjoying yourself quite well. No help needed from me. But hey, we are not exclusive so it doesn’t matter,” he bitterly fumes.

  “No, I wasn’t there to get my jollies, asshole. My original intent was to explore and learn as your dumbass had me opening my mind to new possibilities. I had intended to get a better feel for things on an abstract level to see if I could be more of what you needed.” I am hot, flustered, and in his face as I smart off the last line.

  “You seemed to be having the time of your life. Did you see anything else that interested you? Private room perhaps?” His insinuation has me livid to the point of slapping him in one quick movement that explodes color across his sharp cheekbone.

  Fury burned in me. His stunned expression morphed before my eyes to something deadly, anger and then that of a starved madman. Gavin rushes into me with such heated passion my defenses crumble instantly. Our lips collide in a burst of electricity, sending our half-full bottles skittering about in a foamy mess as we literally rip each other’s clothes off on the spot. The urgency in which we need one another defies words and our desire cannot be satiated with a simple kiss. In this moment, the only thing that matters is my primitive need to get as close to him as fast as possible.

  Without separating our lips, I semi-stand to be stripped. Gavin finally breaks the seal and takes a pink, taut nipple into his hot, wet mouth, causing my legs to buckle, collapsing back into him. With the swipe of his outreached hand, the coffee table is cleared in a whirlwind of magazines and candles, landing in a distant thud that is probably a lot louder than I can possibly comprehend in this moment.

  Leaning me back onto the small, wood piece, he pulls my ankles up into the air and spreads me wide with a satisfied grin. Hooded eyes drift from mine as he appreciates what is now presented before him. His teeth graze his lower lip as pure hunger storms across his face. Sliding his wide palms down the backs of my legs, he slowly drops to his knees in one fluid motion. His eyes never drift from what they are now locked onto. Gavin grips my thighs, spreads them even further before growling and diving in with enough gusto and perfect application that I come within seconds, neither of us holding back.

  Shaking from the violent and sudden release, there is no time to recover as he stands, picks me up, and wraps my legs around his waist as he claims my mouth and carries us to the bed. The taste of myself on his tongue unfurls a need deep within that one cannot easily describe. My core aches for him on a painful level and I still cannot get close enough. Twisting my fingers in his short, wavy hair and pressing my breasts into the hard lines of his chest, I attempt to get closer but find it frustratingly impossible. An agonizing cry escapes my lips and into his.

  “What is it, love?”

  “I need you inside of me so bad it hurts,” I whimper as I cling to him and find his mouth once more. Our tongues dance and the tune changes. He all but buckles onto the bed and his hands and mouth are feverishly everywhere at once. My legs remain wrapped around his waist, aiming his head perfectly at my wet opening as his trousers slip around his ankles.

  “Fuck me, say it again!” he demands, voice strained. Possessed by the moment and aching build up that consumes every ounce of my being, I let go.

  “I need you, Gavin. I love you!” I scream and sway my hips, the gentle nip of his tip dancing around my sensitive flesh proving to be maddening.

  The last syllable barely leaves my lips before he sheaths himself deep inside of me. The impact and friction sends me arching back as I cry in delight. His bare cock begins to pump inside, twitching and pulsating in a connection beyond what I have ever experienced. No barriers, just us. Mouths fused once more, he rides me hard. His hand slides under my ass and grips firmly as he pushes deeper, almost detonating another orgasm but I stave it off, greedy for more. I want to passionately love every last inch of his being, I want all of him. Without warning, he pulls out, forcing me to cry in protest, flips me over, and draws my ass to him, sinking in balls deep once more.

  As his palms lavish my bum and he feeds himself into me harder and harder, I feel my mind float with satisfaction for a brief moment before my insides quicken and clamp down, a sudden, earth-shattering orgasm tearing through my body. My silken pussy clenches down hard, milking his own release as well as a deafening roar. The neighbors are going to be upset after this. Stilling our hips against the aftershocks rolling through each of us, we finally collapse on to the bed. Panting from the wild, animalistic sex, I draw his arm over me, not wanting him to be too far just yet. Thirty minutes easily pass before either of us can muster a word.

  “Jesus, Sorcha, you make me lose my mind.” His voice clambers through the dim light.

  “Yes, that was mind altering,” I muse as my fingers skim down his tattooed bicep.

  “Every time with you is amazing. I can’t believe you let me in bare. Like fucking Christmas come early. Baby, being that close to you is nirvana.” He strokes my face and nibbles on my shoulder. The intimacy of his light caress is far more than sex, and it brings my overwrought emotions bubbling up. And suddenly, I remember what I said during the heated moment. My cheeks flare.

  “You are blushing.”

  “Sorry, I got a carried away…” Do I mention the L word? Do I want to? No, definitely not.

  “You mean when you said that you loved me?” He turns my chin to gaze into my eyes.

  “Tell me why you never showed or called.” I attempt to get as far as I can from it.

  “Did you mean it? Do you love me, Sorcha Quinn?”

  “It was a heated moment.” I brush him off.

  “Fine, play that way. For one, I don’t have your number. Two, an unpleasant situation arose at one of the clubs that I had to attend to. By the time I finished, there it was five and I knew you would be asleep. The following night, I had to finish with some appointments and then was going to come over. But then I saw you with another and decided I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t keep seeing you and step aside as another played with you. No fucking way. So I backed off and gave you your space to do your thing, unable to keep the promise on the jealousy issue.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t have my number? You know everything about me and have abused the ridiculously and probably illegally detailed HR records.”

  “Sor, the number listed has been disconnected.”

  “Oh, that’s right; I changed it a few months ago.” I suddenly feel daft.

  “Daz has been spittin’ mad for the last week and a half over your sudden change in mood.”

  “Yeah, heard he wanted to fire me over it.”

  “No, he wanted to fuck up the bastard responsible for it. Swore up and down that only a douche bag could be the cause.”

  “What? Yeah, right.” My head shakes in disbelief.

  “I am serious. He has fatherly feelings for you.”

&nb
sp; “Did you tell him you were the cause?”

  “Me?” He looks confused.

  “Yes, you. You know, I never asked for you to waltz into my life, shake up my priorities and what I thought to be true, make me feel things I wasn’t ready for, only to have you slip back into the shadows without another word.” As the words flow, my eyes dampen before I shift back into the sassy defense mechanism.

  “Shit, baby, I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you like that. I thought I was doing the right thing.” A pained remorse shifts his handsome features as he tenderly brings his lips to mine.

  “Sounds like we need to have another talk,” I mumble, a bit displeased with what needs to be done.

  He groans out and throws back the covers, unhappy with that.

  “Is it safe to say the unexclusive friends with benefits isn’t going to work?” I push on.

  Gavin’s heavy sigh fills the room and more than answers the question. “Before you kick me out, we may as well have another go at it.” He snakes a hand under my ass and squeezes hard.

  “I’m not kicking you out. I am saying we should try a form of exclusivity,” I relent and close my eyes as I curse to myself.

  “No shit?” He excitedly pops up on an elbow to look me in the eye. “Sorcha, are you saying you want to be my girlfriend?” he teases.

  “Does it have to have a label just yet? Can’t we agree to only fuck each other and officially forsake others for the time being?”

  “God, I can’t remember the last time I had a girlfriend, high school maybe? Thirty-four years old and I now have my first adult girlfriend. Crazy. I do have to say, I am glad I waited. My girlfriend is pretty damn delectable.”

  I stare at him, slack-jaw in disbelief over his admission and attempt to normalize the term girlfriend.

  “Ah, pet. Don’t look at me like that. The world isn’t going to end because we are now in a relationship. I guess this means you better give me your number then?” He snickers before enveloping my blanching face with another tender kiss.

  “This means you have to call when you can’t show up, fucker.” I playfully hit his shoulder, which just lights the excitement in his eyes.

  “Oh, that mouth. Too dirty for such a pretty thing. I shall remedy that. I know you meant it when you said you loved me, so I will go gentle.” He purrs as he begins to make love to me once more. The soft and intimate pace deepens the content of the lax commitment I thought I had agreed to, which scares the crap out of me. Why must things change? This relationship is morphing us both. Just as I attempt to prep for a Dom/sub exchange, as that is his lifestyle, he throws me for a loop and takes me down the most exotic and intoxicating vanilla road. What am I to do with him?

  Chapter 11

  Sorcha

  Gavin’s sleek, black Acura idles outside of my parents’ Palo Alto house.

  “I wasn’t aware that the Irish celebrated turkey day.” He finally turns the ignition off and palms his keys.

  “We are Irish American, and while it isn’t as big of a day for us as some, we use it as another certain day to gather for food, drink, and foul-mouthed debauchery.” I love Thanksgiving; it’s always a hoot with my family. Bre insisted that I bring Gavin, and now that he and I kissed and made up, it felt wrong not to bring my boyfriend to dinner. Especially since he clearly had nowhere else to go. “Your parents never immersed you in American culture?”

  “I was born here, pet.” He aimlessly secures the cuff links on his black dress shirt.

  “Really?” My lips form an ‘O’ as I freshen my lipstick in the mirror.

  “Yes, parents are from London and came over here for business for about ten years, had my brother and me, then moved us back.”

  “Wait, you have a brother?” I am stunned; he didn’t ever talk about his family beyond the surface stuff and had no family photos up in his place.

  “Is it so hard to believe I wasn’t a test-tube baby and was raised in a bonafide, normal family?” His brows knit high.

  “You rarely speak of them.” My lips freeze in a stunned ‘O.’

  “Not much to say. They are an ocean away; I am going back at Christmas to see them all.” He shrugs. And there it is. He has a family that he is leaving in a few weeks to see and never mentioned it, let alone asked me to join. Yet, here I am, bending over backwards to integrate him into my life and introduce him to my family.

  “Well, if there is not much to say, let’s get this over with.” I huff and get out. It doesn’t matter that there are a few things eating away at me at this point, we have to go in. As we get to the door, I stop him with a hand coming to rest on his chest. “No, I can’t do this. I can’t introduce you to my family just yet. I have essentially laid myself bare to you, opened up in ways I have never dared, and the exchange is becoming painfully and obviously unequal. You rarely open up to me, or think to include me in parts of your life. It is I that is constantly being invaded but manage to allow you all the distance you need. You are leaving for London in a few weeks and didn’t think to even mention it before now?” He opens his mouth but doesn’t get a chance to respond. The front door whips open and out comes Uncle Shamus.

  “There you are, Sorcha! And wut hae wee here?” Shamus sizes up Gavin, rosy cheeks heated with drink as his large frame, hardened by years of manual labor leans, in the doorway. “Mo stór, did you finally find a mutt to bring home?” Shamus narrows his eyes into slits.

  “Uncle Shamus! Give it a break, would ya?” I jump to give him a hug and in return have the life damn near squeezed out of me.

  “Wut’s yer name, son?” Shamus holds out his hand to Gavin in welcome.

  “Gavin, sir. It is a pleasure to meet you.” Gavin shakes his hand and allows himself to be ushered into the house and into the sea of family and friends.

  “Oy! Sorcha! Conas tá tú?” My cousin Marie sweeps in looking hot to trot and she rakes her eyes up and down Gavin. “And who may this be?”

  “You shameless cunt, that’s my boyfriend, Gavin.” I hug her and grin as Gavin smiles tightly, clearly not knowing how to take all of this. Marie and I used to get into a lot of trouble together until she settled down with her husband of two years now. We are the babies of the first cousins and I, of course, am the last to remain single.

  “Too bad. But I must say, this is the first one you’ve brought home and you don’t disappoint!” She chuckles as my dad comes into view, causing my heart to speed up in anxiety.

  “Mo chroí, who is this sorry sap you dragged along?” My dad warmly greets us. He may be a renowned medical researcher and a wickedly sharp businessman, but one would never know by his welcoming and calm demeanor. The tweed coat he favorites certainly didn’t lend to peoples initial evaluation of him. He’s a helluva scrapper too, hence where I get it from. Many people have made the mistake of taking my daddy at face value and ended up in a sorry state for it. I have always been and will always be a daddy’s girl.

  “Dad! I’ve missed you!” I hug him tightly. He’s been overseas traveling with my mum for business and a wee bit of pleasure for about two months. They just got back into town in time for the holidays. “This here is Gavin. My… we are…” I wave my hand at him, trying to get the words out but fail miserably.

  “Ya finally brought him to meet us all, did ya? Dad, this is Sorcha’s boyfriend though she has a hard time not tripping over the damn word.” Breonna walks in from the kitchen with the twins on her heels and my mother drying her hands on an apron right behind them. The house is packed, but everyone is waiting for my father’s assessment before they decide to jump back into their jolly mood or boot the fucker out.

  My dad just stands there with his arms crossed, glaring at Gavin. A shadow of recognition seems to pass over his face momentarily before settling back into his fatherly glower. Gavin just stands there and politely smiles, waiting for the verdict. My dad finally holds out his hand to shake Gavin’s.

  “Welcome, son. The name is Eugene, but you may call me Gene.” My dad takes the handshake a
nd pulls Gavin in for an embrace and whispers something into his ear. Gavin blanches momentarily before quickly recovering. My senses are on high alert; these two must know each other somehow.

  “Thank you for welcoming me into your home, sir,” Gavin replies like a good boy on his best behavior. In the presence of my family, his cocky and overbearing tendencies are gone.

  “Jayhsus, Gene. Let the boy in, wud ya? Come dear, we were just about ta sit for the meal.” My mum reaches around my dad, who is still cornering Gavin in the hall and snags Gavin’s hand. She drags him towards the dining room. “The name is Ann. I’m Sorcha’s mum as you’ve gathered. Here, sit.” My mum steers Gavin toward a chair next to my usual spot. Gavin stops short of sitting so that he can pull my seat out, which earns a grunt of approval from my mum.

  The room erupts into its typical boisterous environment as everyone bustles about seating themselves amongst the various food laden tables my mum has managed to cram into the first floor. The four thousand square foot house isn’t small but suddenly feels crowded as about forty bodies scrap chairs, laugh, clink glasses in celebration, and excitedly catch up with one another. The kids can’t sit still and soon begin to run around and play as we begin to serve up our plates and pass the gravy around the table.

  My mum is an amazing cook and the scents of roasted turkey, parmesan Brussel sprouts, and her famous mashed potatoes are almost enough to distract me from the way my dad can’t stop glowering. He has his studious mask on, telling me that he is assessing so much more than me simply showing up with a date. Everyone else at the table happily chats up Gavin, cordially attempting to get to know him and give him a chance. My uncle Shamus seems to be quite taken with him as they get into a heated discussion about the upcoming season of football, or soccer as it is known here.

  “Gavin, is it? How long have you been datin’ my daughter?” Mum interrupts the two men as she happily pours some wine into my sister’s glass.

  “Not long, what’s it been, love? About a month?” He smiles adoringly at me.

 

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