Always Conall (Bitterroot #2)

by Sibylla Matilde

  “Okay, Christmas…” she finally whispered, and I stroked long and deep inside her. I felt her tighten around me, desperately trying to keep me there, as a long, low, breathy moan left her parted lips.

  And then I stopped again.

  “Actually, make it Christmas Eve. I want to wake up on Christmas morning with you in my arms knowing that you’re truly mine.”

  “Okay,” she gasped, and I pressed my lips hard against hers, plundering and ravaging in my conquest, then moved along her neck. My hips pushed hard against her, controlled as every muscle in my body went taut to hold my dick inside. A choked sob sounded in my ear, and I felt the sharp cut of her teeth against my shoulder.

  “Fuck, I love you, baby,” I growled as I rolled to my back so she was above me, straddling me. I jerked her sweet, wet pussy down on my cock, roughly guiding her to slam down on me again and again. “I’m all yours,” I promised with a groan as she rode me, “fuck me all you want…”

  And she did. And it was simply phenomenal.

  Epilogue

  Mattie

  My dress was purple!

  It sorta looked like my mommy’s, but hers was all white. She held some purple and white flowers all tied together with purple ribbon. And her and I walked through the church to my daddy on Christmas eve.

  He gave her a ring.

  And he gave me a necklace.

  He kissed me on the head.

  But then he really kissed Mommy.

  And we became a family. For realsies.

  My mommy didn’t let me wear my purple dress very often. It was too fancy for the ranch, she said. But today was my birthday. I was five, and some of my friends came to the ranch for a party.

  Daddy got me a bunch of purple balloons.

  And a pony! A real life pony! And I got to name her.

  Of course, I named her Twilight Sparkle. Even if she wasn’t purple. And she didn’t have a unicorn horn. Or wings.

  But she was so pretty, and she had purple ribbons in her mane and tail. Just for me.

  Mommy brought out a cake with the candles lit. And I made a wish before I blew them out. I was a good girl and didn’t tell anyone my wish. So far, all my wishes had come true, so I really hoped this one would. After all, a long time ago Mommy sorta said maybe.

  And I already had a kitty.

  Conall

  Mattie was finally asleep. The sugar rush from her fifth birthday and the excitement from her very own real-life pony had left her completely wired. Then emotional and overwrought as she crashed. Heaven help us when that kid hit puberty.

  Sage had been resistant to the pony at first, but every kid who lives on a ranch needs a pony. I eventually convinced Sage of this. Sort of the same way I convinced her to set a date for our wedding.

  And Mattie was ecstatic. Even if the pony wasn’t purple. Sage and I had tied a bunch of purple ribbon on it to make up for that, and it seemed to do the trick.

  Sage had just finished putting away the leftover cake as I walked back out into the great room of the cabin. I stepped up behind her and held her tightly as she melted into my frame.

  I’d never known this sort of peace could exist. I’d never felt anything remotely close to the comfort, security, and warmth that life had given me. My wife and our daughter. Everything I’d always wanted, but never felt I deserved.

  Sage turned in my arms to look up at me. Her baby blue eyes caught mine, dancing with a hint of mischief. “You know,” she whispered, “I have a little present for you, too.”

  “Do you?” I smiled. “It’s not my birthday.”

  “I know,” she murmured, “but I can’t really wait to give it to you.” I kissed her on the tip of her nose, and she smiled shyly, telling me to go get it. In the bedroom in the top drawer of her dresser was a little box.

  I gazed at her curiously for a moment. “Okay,” I said, “you stay here.”

  I made my way down the hallway and into the master bedroom. Top drawer, huh… lingerie, maybe? Sweet!

  As I pulled it open, I saw a tiny box. Sort of slender, a few inches wide and a few more inches long.

  That would be some pretty damn little lingerie.

  But as I pulled out the little box, something else caught my eye. A purple bag with the word Eden across it.

  I’d heard of Eden, and I was more than surprised to see a bag from there in Sage’s dresser drawer. So I pulled the bag out instead.

  “Oh, shit… not that,” Sage gasped from the bedroom doorway.

  I glanced over to see her walking towards me and reaching for the bag. So I held it up out of her reach.

  “Conall, no,” she begged.

  “What is it?” I grinned, delighted by the vibrant pink tinge to her cheeks. She was mortified. This delighted me.

  Sage’s face flooded with color. “I forgot that was in there. That’s not what I sent you in here for.”

  “Okay…” I said, not willing to change the subject. Sometimes, the urge to tease her, just like when we’d been kids, totally came back. And this was so one of those times. I stepped back and quickly pulled the package out of the bag. And I sort of froze. It took a lot to shock me, but… wow. “Sage… honey… this kind of looks like a pretty little pony tail.”

  Sage buried her face in her hands. “Oh my God. It is. I mean, it’s nothing… really. Just kind of a joke.”

  “Where did you get this?”

  Her teeth caught at her lip and lowered her hands to twist them together nervously before she answered in a subdued voice. “Brynn wanted to get something to surprise Kian, and she made me go with her to this sex toy place. She thought the pony tail was hilarious, so she bought it for me… more to embarrass me than anything else, I think.”

  I lifted my chin a little, looking down at her. “You should try it,” I suggested.

  Sage’s wide blue eyes flashed with all kinds of emotion. Surprise. Lust. Naughtiness.

  I popped the packaging apart and pulled out the plug. Holding the tip between my thumb and forefinger, I pulled the strands across my other hand, letting my fingertips sift through the silky purple swirl of hair. “Really. I’m intrigued.”

  Sage

  So, I broke my little vow about the pony tail. And it was awesome. Seriously awesome.

  Something I hadn’t even known existed. And was then very determined to never use. But, oh my…

  The feel of it… and him… a slight, well-timed tug on the strands. The combination of just a hint of pain with the pleasure. The fullness and the sensations it all drew from my body.

  I quickly decided, after coming down to earth from one of the most incredible orgasms that had ever rocked my world, that I needed to go back to Eden. And maybe take a little more of Brynn’s advice.

  But I also decided that it could wait a few days. Because, lying in Conall’s arms in a delirious, delicious fog, I wasn’t sure if I would even be able to move for a week. My brain didn’t want to form a complete thought.

  Until I remembered…

  …what I had actually sent Conall in the bedroom for in the first place. What I had placed in a small box that morning and set in the top drawer for him to find.

  “Conall?” I whispered.

  Nothing but a steady, sonorous breathing. He was fast asleep. I lifted my head and looked at him closely, grazing my fingertips across the hard angle of his jaw. As he slept, his fingertips fluttered against my shoulder. I watched him for a moment in the faint moonlight that streamed through the windows.

  He was, quite simply, the love of my life.

  He had been all my life.

  The only constant, even when he was gone, really. His absence had made me stronger, but never made my love wane. While it had been tinged with other emotions, the deep, intense love always won out. And, in the end when he came back to me and chased all the other frightening feelings away, my heart still beat for Conall. Only Conall.

  Always Conall.

  So, I let him sleep. I curled up to his side, and he instinctively
pulled me closer. I pressed my face against his chest, breathed in his scent, and closed my eyes.

  I could always show him the positive test tomorrow.

  Songs that inspired Conall

  Adele – Don't You Remember

  Aerosmith – Jaded

  Afrojack – Do Or Die - Afrojack vs. THIRTY SECONDS TO MARS Remix

  Black Rebel Motorcycle Club – Spread Your Love

  Bruce Cockburn – Pacing The Cage

  Christina Aguilera – Hurt

  Damien Rice – Cannonball

  Daniela Andrade – Bright Blue

  Emily Wolfe – Accident

  Feist – Intuition

  Ian Britt – The Shape Of Us

  Jack Johnson – Banana Pancakes

  James Blunt – Bonfire Heart

  Jesse Cole – Same As the Sun

  Joan Jett – Have You Ever Seen the Rain?

  John Mayer – If I Ever Get Around To Living

  Joshua Radin – Tomorrow Is Gonna Be Better

  Jules Larson – True Colors

  Kings Of Leon – Beautiful War

  Kings Of Leon – Comeback Story

  Kings Of Leon – Tonight

  Kings Of Leon – Revelry

  Linkin Park – Numb

  Mindy Smith – Hurricane

  The Outfield – All The Love

  The Outfield – The Way It Should Be

  Perrin Lamb – Everyone's Got Something

  Restless Heart – Long Lost Friend

  Sara Bareilles – Gravity

  Sarah Jarosz – Build Me Up From Bones

  Stevie Nicks – Has Anyone Ever Written Anything for You

  Susie Suh – I Do

  Theory Of A Deadman – Bad Girlfriend

  Thirty Seconds To Mars – The Race

  Thirty Seconds To Mars – Bright Lights

  Thirty Seconds To Mars – Stay

  Tori Amos – Winter

  Tori Amos – Silent All These Years

  Travis – Peace The Fuck Out

  Travis – Closer

  The Weepies – World Spins Madly On

  William Fitzsimmons – Beautiful Girl

  Willie Nelson – Always on My Mind

  The Wreckers – Lay Me Down

  Acknowledgements

  First of all, I have to give total props to my husband. I know he wonders what he got himself into at times. He sort of worries to show how much he cares (and he worries a LOT!), yet he put up with being a single parent for two weeks this summer (when he really, REALLY didn’t want me to go) because he could see just how much it meant to me. The concept of me flying across an ocean was so beyond anything he’d ever imagined, I think. He’s, quite simply, the sweetest, funniest, and most loving man I’ve ever known, and I thank God every day that he saw something to salvage in the 20-year-old train wreck I was so long ago.

  This is my fourth book since I started publishing almost a year ago. I’m a little shocked, both that it has been THAT long and that it has ONLY been that long. A little over a year ago, my ‘trowel’ Amy got a wild hair up her ass to gather some of her Goodreads friends on Facebook and Twitter. And, thus, the SmutSisters were born. I can honestly say, I doubt I would have ever dared to publish without them. Some of them are authors. Some of them are bloggers. Some of them just love a good book. But all of them inspired a confidence in me that I’d never really felt in all my life. Through the smooth sailing and the rocky seas, I can’t imagine my life without them.

  Through them came RARE in Edinburgh, the first signing I’d ever attended, much less signed at. (That would be the trip my husband really, REALLY didn’t want me to go on, but he knew how much it meant to me and told me to go anyway.) The encouragement and support I received from my mother, my step-mother, and my aunt helped to make that faraway dream come to fruition. My brain is still reeling from meeting so many authors who are so much more noteworthy than I am. It is so easy to see them as larger-than-life… superheroes with super imaginations. I still feel rather awestruck by them all and kind of have to go “OMG! I met her!” from time to time, but I really felt welcomed, even if I was a complete spaz at times.

  Even more so, the attention I received from readers in Edinburgh stunned me. Every now and then, I am kind of like “Wait… I have fans! WTF?” I had anticipated twiddling my thumbs and trying to look up Stu’s kilt most of the signing (thanks in no small part to some awesome table placement), but I was actually very busy. It was so lovely seeing some of the people I connected with online, to see the real person and thank them for supporting the stuff that goes through my mind. It was all kind of a blur and I’m sure I was terribly inarticulate. I’m still a little flabbergasted that some of you wanted to meet me.

  I also got to meet some of my Flannel Squad face-to-face. These women have come to mean so much to me. I laughed with you until my stomach seized up. And none of you thought I was too terribly off my nut when my agoraphobic self about had a panic attack before the welcome party. You are always there for me and for each other, and it is a beautiful thing to be a part of. Such different lives we’ve led that somehow led us to each other. I couldn’t ask for a better bunch of friends. Looking back on the trip, everything seems so surreal. I will never forget it for the rest of my life. (And thanks to the staff at Edinburgh Castle for not tossing the Flannel Squad out on our ‘arses’ – we weren’t extraordinarily well-behaved, but we had a really great time!)

  Thank you to Christopher John from CJC Photography for helping me find the perfect Conall. You were truly delightful to work with and I can’t wait to see what other hotness you can come up with for me! And thank you to cover model Brian Laferriere for being sooooooooooo… um… inspirational. I could stare at pictures of you all day.

  Thank you so much to my beta readers and proofreaders – Michelle, Beth, ‘Nurse’ Ashley, Terri, Amy, Teri, Arabella, Diane, Dawn, Jane, Nikki (who bagsied Conall, BTW), Teri, and Nicola (OMG… I hope I got all of you in there because I’ll be totally gutted if I forgot someone!) Thank you for your honesty by telling me what you really thought. And, OMG…Terri was surprised at condom usage after beating it into my head for the last year? That still blows my mind…

  Thanks to Denny for being such a wanker. Yes, that maybe sounds odd, but it is so nice to have someone to blame when all the shit starts hitting the fan. And thanks to whoever wrote that on the Summer House in St Stephen's Green. If I ever run into him, I’ll be sure to let him know what you think of him.

  Extra special thanks to my Brit Ho. That crazy Coventry girl who is so damn smart and sweet and funny. She listens to K-pop and loves things like steam mops (okay, I totally didn’t really mean that to rhyme). We’re sharing a table in Montreal, and I’m so very excited to bedazzle the shit out of that place since we didn’t get it done in Edinburgh.

  And finally, thank you to my Pimp Shell. Because she is truly my backbone some days. She started as a reader who wanted to get her hands on Little Conversations. She has become one of the best friends I’ve ever had in my life. She makes me laugh when I feel like crying. She calms me down when I’m raging. She is almost always the first person I ‘talk’ to every morning and the last person I ‘talk’ to at night. She was my ‘sick buddy’ in Dublin, she warns me of stranger danger, and she ‘gets’ me. I heart you, Shell.

  About Sibylla

  Sibylla Matilde grew up in the mountain valleys of Southwest Montana, and grew up exploring the alfalfa fields on the back of a horse. She attended a two-room schoolhouse 1st through 6th grade where she had same teacher the whole time. Beginning at about age 12, Sibylla discovered historical romance, feeding off of work of Jude Devereaux, Lisa Kleypas, and Karen Robards. She loves a book that can make the reader run the gamut of emotions, from the sweet glow of new love to gut-wrenching heartache. She always has stories floating around in her head, living in some fantasyland until she writes them down to free them. She is a true romantic, a bit of a Pollyanna, and a deeply emotional soul.

  Music is her emotio
nal trigger. Growing up with a Wagnarian-opera-loving mother, Sibylla grew up with music that digs deep into her soul and pulls out emotion. The soundtrack to her life includes different genres and generations. She looooooooves Thirty Seconds to Mars (rather obsessively, actually) with a little Kings of Leon to mix things up, and pimps them out regularly to all her friends through Spotify. She also enjoys watching Met Opera HD broadcasts at her local movie theater, and hopes (listening Met?) to someday see Diana Damrau reprise her role as Mozart’s Queen of the Night in Die Zauberflöte – The Magic Flute.

  Sibylla lives with her husband, Mike, a man who she firmly believes saved her from her self-destructive, hot mess self. He makes her laugh every day, even when things seem to be falling apart around them, and has proved to her that love really can heal a shattered soul. In almost 19 years, they have never had a fight, but argue regularly with their two teenage kids who have, unfortunately, inherited their father’s quick wit (unfortunate as it is a quick wit that Sibylla, herself, definitely does not possess – there is a reason she is a writer and not a stand-up comedian), and live a quiet life with their two weird little rescued Chiweenies. Wait… teenagers and little yap-dogs? Okay, maybe not so quiet. :)

  Stalk Siby

  She kinda likes it. And, if you enjoyed Always Conall, be sure to let others know. Reviews mean the world to indie authors!

  Website:

  www.SibyllaMatilde.com

  Email:

  Siby@SibyllaMatilde.com

  Facebook:

  https://www.facebook.com/sibylla.matilde.5

  Twitter:

  https://twitter.com/SibyllaMatilde

  Amazon:

  http://www.amazon.com/Sibylla-Matilde/e/B00HHISEQ0

  Goodreads:

  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7226522.Sibylla_Matilde

  Pinterest:

  http://www.pinterest.com/LETObsessed/little-conversations/