by Ann Jacobs
"You've fallen in love with that man," Brenda had accused. "With an IRA prisoner you've never met. Laura, you've let your idealistic, romantic view of the Irish situation convince you he's a brave martyr fighting for Irish independence. But think a minute. You told me the man was arrested for possession of thirty tons of arms and ammunition. He's a terrorist, for God's sake!"
"That's ridiculous," Laura protested. "My interest in Declan is purely intellectual. I need to know what makes him tick. For my character, you know that."
At the time, she'd truly believed that. But now, now that she was here with him, she could no longer fool herself about her motive in moving to Ireland. It was Declan. She'd been fantasizing about him since she'd first seen his photo.
Without warning, Declan leaned forward and took her hand, his eyes blazing earnestly into hers. "You do not know what it means to me, having you here, Laura. Christ, it's unbearable here. Every day the same, nothing to look forward to. You have given me that. Something to look forward to. You will come again, will you not?"
Laura was acutely conscious of the warmth of his hands cradling hers. Her heart bumped painfully in her chest. She tried but couldn't meet his intent gaze. Instead, her eyes focused upon the brush of silky black hair just visible at the opening of his shirt. Her fingers itched to stroke that delectable spot. Her mouth craved to taste it.
He squeezed her hands tighter between his. "Please say you will, Laura. You do not know what it would mean to me."
When he said her name in that lovely accent, she was lost, and he knew it. Finally, she looked into his eyes. "I will, Declan. I promise."
He smiled, his gaze roving over her face, centering on her lips. Something inside her told her she wasn't imagining the blatant sexual heat on his face. Laura's heart tripped into overdrive. He wanted to kiss her, was just waiting for a movement, a sign that she wanted it, too. And God, she did. More than anything. She released a staggered breath, then leaned forward just a bit. It was all he needed.
With a soft groan, he cupped the back of her head in his palms, and his mouth slid over hers in a butterfly caress, his tongue just moistening her lower lip in anticipation of what was to come. Laura's senses hummed as her mouth opened to him just wide enough to capture his upper lip between hers. He groaned, and deepened the kiss. He tasted pleasantly of coffee and cigarettes. She felt herself go liquid, her swelling sex pressing against her cotton panties as he sucked gently on her lower lip, playing her mouth as if it were a fine-tuned tin whistle. Her nails dug into his back, warm and strong through the cotton of his shirt. Oh, God, it had been so long since she'd been kissed like this. No, she thought, as his tongue leisurely tasted hers; she'd never been kissed like this.
One hand had loosened her ponytail from its band, and her hair tumbled around her shoulders. He broke the kiss just long enough to draw back and peer at her. His work-roughened fingers trailed over her cheekbone in a gentle caress. "You're so beautiful, Laura," he murmured huskily. "Why do you hide your beauty?"
Then his mouth was on hers again, and she moaned, opening to him, tentatively tasting his questing tongue. He slipped a hand into her unbuttoned cardigan, sliding up slowly, his thumb brushing against her peaked nipple. A new flood of heat swept through her, and her thighs parted, her secret core aching with need. She was wet, so wet. As he palmed her breast through the cotton of her blouse, she cried out, ripping her mouth from his, gasping, wanting to beg him to touch her, to relieve the ache that was torturing her. But she couldn't. She was too shy, too inhibited. That's why men were never attracted to her. They thought she was frigid and sexless. But oh, they were so wrong. Declan's mouth moved to the vee of her blouse, kissing and suckling, his warm tongue lapping her skin as if it were covered with golden honey.
"Touch me, Laura," he whispered hoarsely. "I'm so hard for ya, girl."
He took her hand and pressed it to his massive erection beneath his pants. It felt incredible beneath her palm, primitive, wild and hungry. She gave it a tentative stroke, and he groaned. She tried to remind herself that they were in a public room-that there was a sleeping man in a chair in the corner. His snores still punctuated the silence between Declan's ragged breathing and soft groans. A guard could come in at any moment. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered but this exquisite pleasure his touch was igniting in her. She squirmed on the vinyl sofa, searching for friction to relieve the torturous ache in her vagina.
Declan's hand moved to her thigh, pushing up her skirt to reveal her bare skin. Oh, thank God she hadn't worn tights or panty hose-just socks under her boots and the cotton panties. She'd regretted that decision the minute she'd walked out into Dublin's autumn rain. But now, oh, God, she was so glad. The touch of his hand against her bare skin sent an electric current through her womanly core. His mouth locked on hers again as his fingers traveled up her inner thigh, stroking, growing closer to that part of her that so needed his touch. Her legs parted wider, issuing an unspoken invitation.
His mouth left hers and traveled to her ear in a moist trail. "Do you want me to touch you, Laura? Tell me you do."
She rolled her head back and forth against the back of the sofa, slinking down. She knew she should tell him to stop, but it was impossible. "Yes!" she gasped, eyes closed, her bottom squirming, thrusting at him. Beneath her palm, his erection had swollen, was straining at his zipper. "Please, Declan, please touch me."
His fingertips skimmed the crease of her inner thigh, just brushing her swollen vulva. She jerked, pressing herself toward his touch. With a soft laugh of satisfaction, he touched her then, his fingers slipping into her wet sex, moving in circular motions. A soft cry escaped her lips, loud in the silence. She didn't care. Nothing else mattered now. Just the touch of his talented fingers stroking her inner folds.
He slowly thrust his expert fingers inside her lush, heated passage, then brushed a thumb against her pouting clit. She gasped out something unintelligible. His tongue slid into her ear, hot and urgent and frantic. "Stay with me, lass. I want to make you come." His fingers locked onto her sex, dipping into her heated core, moving rhythmically. Her juices flowed like a river of lava. She could hear the slurping sound of moisture as he delved into her, exploring, bringing her to fever pitch. Maddened with lust, she couldn't stop herself from pressing against him. She'd never felt like this. It had never been like this.
"Oh God," she cried out as spasms of pleasure ripped through her, shattering her into diamond shards. He didn't withdraw, but kept his fingers moving inside her, his mouth open and gasping against her cheekbone.
"Yes," he whispered. "Yes, love, give it all to me."
Finally, as her shuddering eased, she slumped, exhausted, against him. His thumb brushed against her sensitive clitoris in one last caress as his hand moved up, sliding gently through the soft hair that protected her sex. His tongue laved her neck. "Oh, baby," he whispered. "You are so beautiful when you come."
Laura realized she was still stroking his erection. It was harder now than it was before. She drew away, shocked and ashamed of her selfishness. "But you! How can I…?" She glanced over at the sleeping man, and stiffened in shock. He was awake and watching. Hot color spread over her face as she moved awkwardly, pulling her skirt back down over her knees. The prisoner grinned lewdly.
"Oh, God! He's watching!" She pushed away from Declan, horrified at what he'd seen. Horrified at her own actions. How could she have let him touch her so intimately? There had been only two lovers in her twenty-eight years. A prude, some guys had called her. And yet, look what had just happened. A prude would never have let a near stranger bring her to orgasm in a public room.
Declan looked over at the grinning prisoner, and his face darkened. "Get the hell out of here, O'Riley."
The grin disappeared from the man's face, and he reluctantly got to his feet. "Hey, last time I checked, this place was for everybody. It's not my fault your girlfriend's moans woke me up. Maybe she shouldn't be so loud when she comes."
Laura felt the heat
on her face intensify. Declan stood, his body tense. He stared at the man, a dangerous gleam in his eyes, and Laura saw, for the first time, the man he was-an IRA prisoner, a man who'd been arrested for arms dealing. And she'd let him touch her; let him bring her to orgasm. What kind of woman did that make her, she wondered. Oh, God! Her agent was right. She'd fallen in love with this man's picture, with his idealistic goals of a united Ireland, no matter what the method.
"Okay, okay. I'm going." The rail-thin prisoner ambled out of the room.
Declan turned back to her, his eyes gentle again. "I'm sorry. You made me stop thinking. If I'd remembered he was here…"
Laura dropped her gaze, her cheeks burning. He had made her stop thinking, too. It was as if she'd been someone else, a wanton, sex-craved creature, one that she didn't recognize as part of herself. "I should go," she whispered.
He reached for her hand. "Promise me you'll come back. If you don't want me to…touch you again, I won't. Like I said, you made me stop thinking."
Laura knew she should refuse to see him again. But she just couldn't. She was already in too deep-already entangled in him. Her will was non-existent when she looked into his blue eyes, still cloudy with arousal.
She stood. "I'll come again next week." Her cheeks flamed as she recognized her unintentional innuendo.
He got to his feet and faced her. She sucked in a sharp breath. He was even more gorgeous now than he'd been when she'd first seen him. "I will count the hours." He cupped her face in his palms and sweetly kissed her lips, his tongue tasting, flickering just inside. Hot fire shot through her womb. She wanted his touch again. Desperately.
His erection pressed against her belly. Regret swept through her. He'd so unselfishly brought her to release, but what about him? Her face flamed as she thought about what she could do for him. What she wanted to do for him. Declan cupped her head in his hands and claimed her mouth once again. She gave herself up to his kiss, and again, her senses began to spin. Finally, she gathered the strength to break away from his mouth, centering her gaze beyond his right shoulder. Her cheeks were on fire.
"I'm sorry you…you know…to leave you like this."
He grinned. "Ah, don't you worry yourself about that, darlin'. It's not an unusual state for me. But next time, love…" He bent his head so that his lips just touched her ear, and he whispered, "Bring a blanket with ya. It's bleedin' cold in here, don't ya think?"
* * * * *
The following week she did as Declan suggested. She brought a small lap blanket and they lost little time in making use of it. Declan's eyes glowed brightly when he saw it, and he gave her a smile that made her weak in the knees. This time, they were the only occupants of the day room. "I paid the lads off with fags," Declan murmured into her ear, drawing her against him intimately so she could feel his rigid shaft pressing against her stomach. Her heart jackhammered. "We have an hour alone."
"Fags?" Laura whispered, a catch in her voice. She couldn't stop thinking about that hot lead pressing against her belly.
"Cigarettes," Declan said, his mouth painting a wet trail of kisses down her neck. He pushed her onto the sofa, and grabbed the lap blanket. With a quick flick of it, he covered them from the waist down, and immediately, his hands were roaming up her legs under her skirt. She moaned, her thighs parting as his fingers zeroed in on her wet center. His mouth explored hers, his tongue darting and dancing. His fingers brushed against her throbbing clit, and it was her undoing. She bucked against his stroking fingers, climaxing hard and violently. He tore his mouth away from hers and murmured into her ear, "Yeah, love, that's it. Let it go. Come for me, love."
She quaked against his still moving fingers, mouth parted, eyes closed. He held her until she was still, her breathing ragged. Finally, he withdrew his hand from her tingling center, giving her mouth a gentle, airbrushed kiss.
When he withdrew from her lips, Laura moaned and locked her hands on his head, her fingers weaving through his black hair. She drew him to her for another achingly sweet kiss. Then she whispered, "Now, it's your turn."
She reached for his zipper under the blanket. His eyes glinted with excitement as he watched her face. The sound of his zipper was loud in the room. Laura's heart pounded. She'd never done anything like this before. Never.
Her fingers reached for him. Hot, hard flesh burst out of his unzipped pants. He wasn't wearing underwear. She made a sound that was almost a purr as his throbbing penis filled her small hand. Declan sucked in a deep breath, his eyes closing as she gave his shaft an experimental stroke. "Oh, good Christ," he murmured.
Laura smiled, watching the emotions chase over his handsome face. Lust, wonder, agony, ecstasy. Curling her hand around him, she moved down to the base of his penis, stroking tentative fingers under his bulging scrotum. He flinched, and an anguished moan broke from his lips. She moved up again, slowly, enticingly. Reached the swollen bulb, felt a bead of moisture there. She ran her fingers over the ridged tip, moistening it with his own fluid. He bucked in her hand, and his eyes opened. She stared into his glazed eyes, and her tongue snaked out of her mouth, running over her lower lip. "I want to take you into my mouth," she whispered. Oh, God! Had she really said that out loud?
A fire ignited in his eyes. His penis seemed to grow even larger as she stroked him slowly with both hands. "No one…." he stopped, swallowing hard. His eyes closed and he grimaced as one hand cupped his testicles. "No one will…come in," he gasped. "They know…if…they do…they'll have to…ah, Jesus…deal…with…me. Oh, Christ, baby! You're killing me!"
Her fingers were stroking the tender spot at the base of his tip. She couldn't believe she was doing this. And she couldn't believe what she was about to do. But her body was moving of its own accord. She scooted off the sofa and got on her knees in front of him. Pushing the blanket up, she caught her first glimpse of his rearing penis. It was big, oh, deliciously big, and thick. The circumcised tip glistened with moisture. She couldn't wait to take it in her mouth.
She gently parted his knees and scooted forward. His heat enveloped her, and the smell of arousal was thick in the air. She moistened her lips and leaned toward him, taking his pulsing tool in her hand. Then bending her head, she guided his cock into her mouth, sucking and licking like a ravenous animal. Oh, God! Was this really her? Was she really doing something so…decadent? But it felt so good. So incredibly intoxicating. Declan groaned as her pace picked up, fastening his hands on her head and guiding it back and forth as her tongue laved his cock. Heat was building between her legs again, and she knew that after she brought him to satisfaction, she would need his touch again. Oh, if only he could thrust this beautiful, huge shaft inside her. That's what she needed. That's what she craved. She slipped a hand down to his scrotum, cupping the heavy, velvet weight of him.
"Oh, Christ," Declan growled, his Irish accent thicker than ever. "Oh, yeah." He tensed, and a grimace crossed his face. His sex spasmed in her mouth, and she felt the first hot, salty taste of his ejaculation hit the back of her throat. She swallowed, still sucking him, wanting every drop of him inside her. Finally, his climax ended, and she rose, trembling, and climbed onto his lap. Still breathing raggedly, he cuddled her to him, his hands stroking her hair.
"Oh, love, you're going to be my undoing," he muttered.
Laura squirmed in his lap, trying to relieve the burning itch in her moist sex. She licked her lips, and then brushed them against his bristled jaw. "I want…" she whispered haltingly. "I need…oh…Declan…"
He understood. He covered her lap with the blanket, then thrust warm, knowing fingers into her aching center, touching, stroking. She climaxed quickly, easily against his probing touch.
Afterwards, they held each other. She nestled in his arms, her face pressing against his sweaty neck. And Laura knew she could never get enough of this man.
* * * * *
She began to visit him every week all through the winter. And she quickly realized there was more than the obvious benefit of the visits each
time she left the prison with the pleasurable tingle of sexual gratification between her legs. There was the undeniable fact that their furtive lovemaking carried over to her writing. After a visit with Declan, she'd come home to her Dublin flat and write feverishly until the early hours of the morning. It was as if a new dimension of her talent had been awakened. The love scenes, which in the past she'd always dreaded writing, soared in sensuous detail. Reading them later, Laura blushed at her uncharacteristic steaminess, but she had to admit they were good. Damn good. And so what if the male character resembled Declan? It was only imagination, after all.
It could never be more than this. More than what they shared right now. There would be no intercourse. Even Declan would draw the line at actual penetration in a public room. His sentence wouldn't be up for another five years. By that time, she'd be back in America, her book written and published. What harm would it do to allow her imagination free rein? No matter how much she fantasized, one thing would never change. She'd never see Declan outside the shadow of Portlaiose Prison.
In that, she soon discovered she was wrong.
Chapter Two
She'd fallen asleep after hours of writing. Sheer exhaustion had forced her to give up for the night as she approached the climax of her novel. It had been a good stopping point-at the height of tension, and she knew she'd be anxious to get started on it the next day.
The pounding on her door woke her in the darkness of early morning. Groggily, she sat up on the side of the bed, wondering why there was so much noise at the front door. The pounding grew louder. Was it the rain pounding outside or…?
"For God's sake, Laura! Let me in!"
Her sleepiness vanished. She knew that voice! Grabbing a robe, she scrambled up from the bed and rushed to the door. "Declan, is that you?" Her fingers fumbled at the latch, finally managing to unlock it. She opened the door and the weight of his rain-soaked body fell against her.