by Gennita Low
Seamus suspected, but couldn’t prove, what they were doing behind his back. He already resented Conor for the theft of the weapons, but McGuy had coolly calmed everyone down, saying that they needed a young man with Conor’s skills. Also, Conor’s face wasn’t on any official files, so no one would recognize a boy loitering around the bank as an IRA lookout.
Then there was the time McGuy had caught Kitty coming behind him, wrapping a hand around and groping him. McGuy had been giving Conor private CIA instructions one night and was standing in the shadows when Kitty came charging into his room. McGuy was supposed to be away at the time so she’d expected Conor to be alone. Conor had turned to stop her but she had caught his lips with hers and passionately kissed him.
“I’ve been looking at you all day. I’ve got to have you, man-child, now, quickly,” she said, pushing him so he sat on his bed.
When Conor had glanced over by the window, he couldn’t even see the man, but he was sure he was there.
“Kitty—”
But it was hard to fight off a woman who already somehow had his cock in her mouth. He sort of remembered cursing and trying to stand up. He’d looked up again and saw McGuy’s shadowy form coming closer.
Shit, had he thought he was in trouble then. But Kitty’s mouth was a force to be reckoned with. He had two choices. Stop Kitty and risk her feeling McGuy’s presence. Keep her distracted so McGuy could leave.
It was embarrassing to be in that position, but he couldn’t betray McGuy. Not after the man had taken care of him like he had the last few months. Besides, a part of him had registered that the older man was testing him or he wouldn’t be coming so much closer. Any moment now Kitty would be aware of someone else in the room.
So he went by instinct. He distracted Kitty by pushing his dick hard into her willing wet mouth. Her enthusiastic sucking automatically elicited an equally enthusiastic response from his body. He watched McGuy slipping casually out of his room as he blew his load into Kitty’s mouth. She never even knew. But Conor understood he’d passed some sort of test that night.
“That’s called keeping cool under pressure, boy,” McGuy had said later.
Still under the misapprehension that it was all on Kitty’s part, he had told Conor that he had to learn to say no to sex sometimes. However, when he started noticing how aggressively Kitty chased after Conor every time Seamus wasn’t around, he shook his head in resignation.
“Son, I know you’re young and a hot thing like Kitty’s going to twist you around her little finger and make you want to get into her panties every time. Do you know how dangerous that is? Do you really want her that bad?” he’d asked one night.
“Yes, sir,” Conor had replied truthfully.
McGuy had looked at him, obviously waiting for a second answer, but when Conor had kept quiet, he gave a sigh. “Well, then, you’ll never make it in the CIA if you’re going to fall for every pretty woman who wants you.” Giving Conor one last level look, he’d added, “You do not, I repeat, do not, ever talk to her about me and you, or God help me, son, you’ll be dead faster than you can unzip those jeans of yours. She’s a dangerous woman, son.”
Conor would never forget that look. The man who had brought him into the IRA wasn’t a man who lightly made threats.
“And if Seamus comes back, I’ll just slip out the back window again,” Kitty’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
Conor walked over to stand by his bed. Kitty leaned further back, sliding onto her elbows. A smile of anticipation touched her shapely lips.
Six months. He’d been fucking this woman six months and she always had the same effect on him—tantalizing and tempting. She seemed to know that he liked the danger of thinking Seamus might catch them at it.
“Do you want him to kill me, is that it?” Conor asked, cocking his head. He took a step closer. “You know he’s waiting for the chance.”
“Of course not. I can’t help myself. I think I’m in love with you.” Kitty stretched back sensuously. She closed her eyes for a moment. “I think about your cock in me all the time, all right? There’s something wrong with that.”
The thing about Kitty was, she talked to him as if he was a man, not someone eight or ten years younger. He knew she still thought he was over eighteen, but he also suspected if she’d known how young he really was, she’d still let him fuck her. That was how she was—a woman of passion who didn’t care about rules or propriety. He liked being with her; she was raw and sexy, totally at ease with her sexuality. He found himself able to do things with her that he’d never done with the other lasses, mostly because they always coyly refused or they weren’t experienced enough. Kitty, however, was neither. She never refused him.
Still, he needed her out of his room quickly. Not only was there Seamus to think about. McGuy was staying over tonight and Conor had been trying to show the older man that he was all grown-up and responsible, that he was a good asset for the CIA. McGuy was going to privately go over certain things with him about tomorrow’s operation.
The promise of being trained and going to special schools, of traveling to different countries, and of being given knowledge about things he’d always wanted to learn about, was why he’d willingly followed McGuy back here with the sack of weapons. It was cool to know he was part of an undercover operation even though part of him was still suspicious—why would this man want to take him into the CIA? What if he wasn’t CIA?
“Are you going to just stand there, lover boy?” Kitty asked, raising one leg and using her toes to caress the bulge on the front of his pants. “Maybe you want me to wrestle you onto the bed and have my way with you, hmm? In that kind of mood?”
Conor grinned. If he let Kitty play with him the way she liked, they would be in bed for hours and he’d really get into trouble with McGuy then. He unbuttoned his fly.
“You know we don’t have time for that,” he said. When she stuck her tongue out, lewdly showing him what she’d in mind, he felt his cock responding, pushing hard against his pants. He growled out, “Tease.”
It was hard to say no to all that womanly enticement spread out on his bed. He really, really wanted to jump on top of her and fuck her. Temptation had never tasted so sweet in his life. But McGuy had warned him that if he thought only with his cock, he’d never make it. If he started on Kitty now, he wouldn’t be just risking Seamus’s coming back and discovering them; he would be risking the whole operation tomorrow.
His hesitation didn’t go unnoticed by Kitty. She nudged him with her toes again. “What’s the matter?” She cocked her head, eyes narrowing slightly. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid.”
“Have you ever thought about what will happen if we got caught?” Conor asked. Ignoring the silent urging in his pants, he turned and sat down on the bed by Kitty. “Not just between Seamus and me. There’s bad blood there already, anyway, but you know the rest of the group will have to take sides and I’m still the new man here, Kitty. They’ll side with Seamus and I’ll be out on the streets again.”
“Actually, they’ll kill you sooner rather than let you loose on the streets again,” Kitty said, with a small smile on her lips.
“Not one for sugar-coating the truth, are you?”
“You want to play with the big boys, you have to learn the big boys’ ways,” Kitty told him. “Right now you’re of use to the cause. You’ve managed to get inside the bank and find out the things we needed to know. You have an excellent memory for spatial layouts and a talent with getting people to talk. It’s not Seamus that’s pleased with you but our bosses on top, Conor, because you have shown that you’re a natural.”
“A natural?” Conor repeated.
Kitty stretched and yawned, kicking off her shoes. “A natural. Who found out on his own that the bank president was buying a new car and therefore saved us from making the mistake of looking for a different vehicle tomorrow? Who thought up the idea of spray painting the outside security cameras?”
He did. He remembered McGuy’s a
pproving look and Seamus’s scowl. He shrugged. “If you want to rob a bank and kidnap the bank president, then timing’s the most important detail here,” he said.
“That’s right, just as the timing of my explosive device is,” Kitty said. She tugged at the back of his jeans pocket. “You’re always thinking ahead and your mind is always clicking along like a computer, even though you’re sitting there calmly cleaning a gun. And that’s why I’m in love with you. You turn me on without even trying.”
Conor gave in to her tugging, falling on his back onto the bed. She snuggled against him, her mouth to his ear, her hand busy already. “Is that what love is?” he murmured. Love to him was something that happened on television shows, not in real life. “Love is all about getting turned on while watching me clean a gun?”
“No, lover,” she whispered. “It’s more than that.”
A few minutes later, he murmured, with a smile, “Love’s all about watching you clean my gun too?”
Kitty climbed on top of him, her lips wet and amusement in her dark eyes. “More than that.” A few minutes later, she added, her voice breathy now, “More than this too.”
Conor held her hips steady as he rolled over so he would be on top. Since getting a lover, he’d learned to control himself a lot more. Kitty had taught him many ways to please a woman, such as, if he tilted her hips to the right and angled his thrust—like this—he was rewarded by her soft cries, her insides milking him, as she came.
“More than that too?” he teased, as he continued his thrusts, knowing that she would be too sensitive to talk back to him.
She gurgled as he parted her thighs wider so he could drive inside her deeper, keeping her hips tilted to the right. Soon, if he kept the same steady pace, she would come again, violently this time, and, he’d discovered that if he reached down and fingered her clitoris at the right moment, he could keep her in that state longer.
Her nails raked across his back as she spasmed violently. He was glad he still had his tee shirt on. He wondered whether he could prolong her pleasure even more. He’d heard that some women fainted from coming so much but had always thought that was something his older brother made up; being with Kitty had opened his eyes. Women could do things with their bodies men couldn’t. He was fascinated by them and by the way they were so responsive to his touches.
Kitty liked to make love for hours and was so good at giving him pleasure that he always complied, letting her climb on top and take charge of the pace. Whatever pleased the lady was fine by him. But this time, his mind was still on McGuy and he wasn’t planning on getting in trouble. He’d like to give her the kind of pleasure that his brother talked about, and then he would have killed two birds with one stone—satisfy his lover and take her back to her place before McGuy showed up. He felt himself grow even harder at the thought of her wild and begging for him.
He pulled out of her and flipped her small shapely body around. He tucked an arm under her tummy and pulled her onto her knees.
“What—what are you doing, Conor?” Kitty turned her head, her eyes mirroring the surprise mingled with excitement in her voice.
She gasped as he entered her from behind, pushing in all the way. He moved his hand that was splayed across her tummy lower as he parted her legs wider for more access. Her gasp turned into a throaty scream as he stroked her with his fingers and slammed into her again.
He didn’t relent, changing positions each time she came, taking advantage of her weak compliance to pleasure her differently. She went wild under his mouth, trying to buck him off at one point. He easily stopped that by sucking on her sensitive bud, holding her captive with his tongue.
She begged then. He slipped his fingers inside her.
Her begging turned to moans, punctuated with a few “waits”.
He ignored her soft plea to catch her breath as he caressed her with his mouth and fingers, carefully building her heat back to a feverish pitch. Her hands pushed hard against his shoulders as she squirmed, her throaty groans growing louder as her release came in violent shudders.
He tasted her with one final lingering lick and climbed on top again, still rock hard, ready to come himself, wondering whether he could hold off his climax for just a few minutes more. He played with her till he felt her arch upwards, on the verge, then he replaced his fingers with his ready erection, sliding in all the way, deep and hard. She was hot and wet, her whole body eagerly meeting his.
The need to come clawed at his brain. It was sweet agony to slide into her slowly at first and just as slowly pull out, then slam in deep and hard. He forced himself to slowly pull out again. Repeat. He named all the saints he knew as he continued the pace, all the blood in his body seemingly bottling up in his aching erection. Kitty was mindlessly mewling underneath him, her hands stroking his chest and arms, her words a mixture of English and her mother tongue. He’d never heard her like that before.
“St. Ex…pe…ditus…” he forced out. “St…”
He was out of saints to name. He slammed into her. Out of control. Hard and fast. His orgasm came like a force of nature, seemingly endless and violent, taking over his body and brain.
There was a long silence afterwards. Conor finally moved, taking his weight off Kitty. He looked down at her. She was just lying there, her eyes closed, her mouth open.
“Kitty?” he called softly.
A soft moan was all he got. She was out like a light.
Conor smiled triumphantly. Hell, he was going to be a sex god from now on.
He heard the phone ring three times. Shit. That was McGuy’s signal he would be here in five minutes.
“Kitty! Where the fuck are you?” Seamus’s shout suddenly blasted out of the window above his flat.
Conor looked down at Kitty. Now what? He couldn’t fuck up tomorrow’s job and jeopardize McGuy’s work. One thing was sure. Being a sex god was going to get him killed.
Outside Dublin, Ireland
Conor coughed. The taste of blood filled his mouth and he spat it out. He was a dead man. He couldn’t last another round of being Seamus’s punching bag. The man would have killed him a lot sooner but he had a lot of hate in him because he knew Kitty had been cheating on him with Conor.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. He remembered thinking being a sex god was going to kill him. Did he think he was going to live to see past eighteen, the way he was fucking her senseless right under her lover’s nose?
McGuy had been absolutely right, but McGuy’s warnings were useless to him now. His protector was dead—some kind of assassination during the last job. He suspected Seamus’d had a hand in it, but didn’t have any proof.
He hadn’t ever thought McGuy might up and die on him and leave him in this mess. His only friend was part of this group of IRA terrorists and yet not. McGuy had been his shield from the likes of Seamus, who hadn’t wanted him in. Without the older man, he had seen the little status he had became nothing.
The first thing Seamus had done within days of McGuy’s death was trap him with four of his men and had them beat the hell out of him. Then he’d laid McGuy’s death at his door, claiming that Conor had sold their IRA leader to the authorities, using video feed of him talking to agents. It was ironic that he’d been caught talking to those men as a messenger for McGuy because his mentor happened to be CIA himself.
Conor coughed again, the pain in his chest burning like fire all the way up to his eyeballs. McGuy was killed by Seamus’s people, not the CIA. He supposed he could tell them McGuy was CIA, but fuck that. If he was going to die anyhow, he wasn’t going to betray the one man who had given him a chance.
He tried to laugh, but it came out like a hoarse, screechy sound. Gave him a chance. Perhaps he was a fool to believe that. He’d seen McGuy at work—that man was as ruthless as Seamus, if not more. He was like the movie spies, a double agent, a man who took lives and lived dangerously. Giving Conor McNeil a chance was probably just another expedient way for him to use a boy as a go-between.
Conor
clenched his hands. He would not cry. If nothing else, he would die like a man. McGuy had once told him death was easy, living was harder. He had never really understood all the things McGuy had told him, even though he’d paid attention. Now, after endless days of starvation and pain, he was wondering who would want to live that hard anyhow.
McGuy, you son of a bitch, dying on me like that. You promised me the CIA would let me travel and see the world.
If you survive this, son.
The echo of the dead man’s words lay like a ten-ton weight on Conor’s chest. All right. He hadn’t lied. Only, McGuy hadn’t survived this as well, and he’d been like a father to him the past nine or ten months. It hurt to know he was dead. It hurt to think he was going to probably die soon.
“Conor? Are you awake?”
His head jerked toward the sound. Not that he could see much out of his swollen eyes. He’d recognize the accent anywhere. Kitty. She was really going to get into trouble if she got caught. “Is that my angel of Death coming to take me?” he cracked.
The door creaked and he heard the lock turning. “Hush. I don’t have much time. Seamus has to meet someone and I bribed Daniel so I can get to talk to you.” She was kneeling by his side, her hands hurting his face. “Oh my God, Conor, oh my God.”
“The love of your life, remember? Not your god. Unless you plan to worship me after I go to the other side. And if you think Daniel wouldn’t betray you, you’re a stupid woman, Kitty, my love.”
“Don’t be stupid yourself. I’m out of here as soon as I leave you. I’m saying goodbye. Seamus has gone fucking crazy where you’re concerned, and I’m not going to hang around and let him kill me too. I know you didn’t betray McGuy. Half of us didn’t think so either, but Seamus has too much power and you’re hard to defend among the status-quo, Conor.”