Lovers: The Irish Castle

by Lila Dubois

  His hands found and undid the clasp of her bra, then slid down her back. His fingers dipped under her panties, cupping her ass. Mary pressed herself against him, wanting to feel the heat and power of him.

  Michael broke the kiss, pulled her bra off and cupped her bare breasts. The cool air of the room contrasted with the heat of his hands. Thumbs rubbed her nipples, rolling them as she made small sounds of arousal she was only barely aware of. Mary grabbed his wrists, wanting to stop him, wanting it to never stop, wanting him to pinch and pull.

  Michael did neither. Dropping to his knees, he nipped the flesh below her belly button, then bent his head and licked the seam of her sex through her panties.

  Gasping, Mary grabbed him, grinding herself against his face. She realized what she was doing and released him, trying to pull back, but he didn't let her. Holding her by the ass, Michael worked her with his tongue, each stroke pressing the fabric deeper into the folds of her sex.

  “More, please. Michael, I need more.”

  He rose and lifted her, carrying her the few steps to the bed where he lay her down, then came down on top of her. Catching her panties in his hands, he dragged them down and off. Now she lay before him totally naked, while he was still wearing his pants.

  When she reached for him, he evaded her, sliding down her body to lie between her legs. Mary spread her thighs and his fingers parted the lips of her sex. Warm breath fanned her clit and he rubbed her labia, the touch pleasant, but not enough to ease the ache inside her. Frustrated, she grabbed his head, raising her hips until his nose, lips and chin were pressed against her. The stubble on his chin was rough, but she liked it. She wanted rough, she wanted him to take her, own her, make her believe that she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

  She must have said some of what she was thinking because he lifted his head just enough to murmur, “If that’s what you’d like.”

  Teeth abraded her clit, sending shards of pleasure ripping though her. Capturing the nub with his teeth, he licked her with short, hard strokes. Mary thrashed against the bed, her hands pulling at the duvet.

  One finger found the entrance to her body and thrust in. That was what she’d been waiting for, what her body had been craving—the penetration. An orgasm rocked her, but even as she clenched her teeth she wanted more. She didn’t want his finger, she wanted him filling her, wanted to look into his eyes as he took her.

  Michael pulled back, sitting on his heels. His chest was hard with muscle, his arms strong and toned. She’d seen that chest the night she’d gone to his house and thrown rocks at his window like a crazy person, and it was even sexier up close. When he climbed off the bed to take off his pants Mary followed him, dropping to her knees.

  As he kicked his way out of his pants and underwear, Mary examined him. His cock was thick and long, so hard it was standing up almost to his belly. She liked that he was so aroused for her. Grabbing him in one hand, she licked the tip.

  “Mary,” he groaned, hands in fists at his side. “I won’t last if you do that.”

  Ignoring his words, she took him into her mouth. She liked this—being on her knees for him, pleasuring him. After only a few strokes of her tongue on his captured cock, Michael pulled away.

  “On the bed,” he rasped out.

  Mary scrambled up, but she wasn’t fast enough for Michael who caught her and flipped her over onto her back. Hands hooked under her knees, he pulled her to the edge. The bed was tall enough that her hips were lined up with his and he wasted no time taking advantage of that.

  She wrapped her legs around him as he braced his hands on either side of her.

  “Look at me, Mary.”

  She met his gaze and he pressed forward, the tip of his cock finding her entrance and sliding in. Pleasure rippled through her and she closed her eyes, relishing the feeling, but Michael didn’t let her hide from him.

  “Open your eyes, pretty Mary, look at me.”

  Again she met his gaze, and that was as intimate as his cock sliding into her until he was buried to the hilt.

  “Michael.” She touched his face as he began thrusting.

  He kissed her palm, then slid an arm under her and lifted her toward the center of the bed. In the next breath he was back inside her, now kneeling on the bed rather than standing. He came down over her, his chest brushing her nipples, one hand cradling her head. Mary kissed his neck as he rocked into her with gentle strokes.

  Pressure was building inside her, and soon the gentleness wasn’t enough. She dug her nails into his back, his ass, urging him on, demanding more. Lifting himself onto his elbows, Michael pumped into her harder, deeper.

  “Michael, oh yes.”

  “Mine,” he said. “You’re mine.”

  The words barely registered as Mary came, her sex clenching, her toes curling, her body straining under him. Michael took a fistful of her hair and pressed his forehead to hers as he shuddered through his own orgasm.

  When it was over, Mary lay panting underneath him. Some distant part of her was processing everything that had been said and done and beginning to worry about what it all meant, but for now she could ignore it, letting herself be coaxed under the covers where Michael joined her.

  As his bare skin touched hers, a fresh, if muted, spike of desire went through her. Mary turned, brushing her breasts against his hands. Michael cupped the firm mounds, thumbs lazily toying with her nipples.

  “Can you come again?” he asked quietly.

  Mary purred under the touch. “With the right inspiration.”

  “Oh, I know I’m inspired. You inspire me.”

  Michael rose and took one nipple in his mouth, the other between his fingers. Mary closed her eyes. Oh yes, with this man it would never be enough. She wanted more. Now…and forever.

  Chapter 9

  Mary woke a few hours later. The room was dark and there was a large male form pressed against her. She experienced a moment of disorientation before remembering where she was and who cradled her. Smiling, she tugged the covers up over their shoulders. She felt content, which she almost hadn’t expected.

  As she’d drifted off to sleep after several hours of mind-blowing pleasure, she’d worried that she’d made a mistake—that she should have kept her resolve and stayed away from him. Smiling, she cuddled closer to Michael, delighted with the feeling of his warm body curled around her. It wasn't as if she hadn't slept beside her past lovers, but with Michael it wasn't awkward or uncomfortable. He was on his side next to her, an arm and a leg thrown over her, holding and protecting her.

  Closing her eyes, Mary tried to go back to sleep, but her body registered a protest. As sexy as it was to have him cuddling her like this, his leg was pressing on her bladder.

  Sliding carefully out from under him, Mary tiptoed to the bathroom. As she washed her hands, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her normally straight hair was a sexy mess, and she could see faint red spots on her neck where his stubble had abraded her. She was grinning.

  She forced her lips into a straight line, but the smile was still there in her eyes. Laughing a little at herself, she turned off the light before opening the door and tiptoeing back to the bed. Michael had thrown the covers off and his bare chest gleamed in the moonlight that spilled in the window.

  “I thought you'd run off,” Michael grumbled as Mary climbed in beside him.

  She slid against his warmth, comfortable with him in a way she hadn't been with other lovers, even those she'd been with for months.

  “Run off? Hardly. I'm hoping to get some more out of you.”

  His teeth shone in the darkness as he smiled. “Enjoyed yourself, did you?”

  “Fishing for compliments?”

  “Ah well, a man needs to know he pleased his woman.”

  “Your woman?” She wanted to roll her eyes at the “his woman” comment, but it sent a little thrill through her. “And how did a guy from a little Irish village end up being such a good lover anyway?”

  “You wo
uldn't want me to tell tales out of school.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

  “No, but I might send those other women flowers.” She stroked his arm as he draped it over her torso.

  At that he chuckled, the sound warm and deep in the dark room. Mary's lips twitched in response and she kissed his shoulder.

  The arm across her chest moved and his hand cupped her breast, fingers gently rolling her nipple.

  “Michael.” She wasn’t sure if it was a protest or a plea. Despite being well and thoroughly satisfied only hours earlier, she was instantly aroused by his touch.

  “Yes, pretty Mary?”

  Rather than answer with words, she parted her legs a bit. Michael propped himself up on one elbow to suckle her breast while his hand moved down her belly to her sex. When his fingers slid over her, she closed her thighs on his hand, holding him still against her.

  “Ah now, how can I pleasure you like that?”

  Throwing his leg over one of hers, he pulled his hand free and pushed her other leg away, forcing them to part. Demanding access to her most intimate place. That rough handling was replaced by gentler, more seductive touches as fingers danced up and down the seam of her sex and he whispered against her breast, telling her how beautiful she was, how much he wanted her.

  Two fingers pressed into her as Michael lifted his head and took her lips in a kiss. His tongue entered her mouth in mimicry of his fingers thrusting into her sex. Mary lifted her arms, curling them around his neck, but he broke the kiss to say, “No, put your hands on the pillow, above your head. I want to pleasure you without distractions.”

  Licking her lips, she did as he said, her sex clenching around him in arousal from the command.

  “I want you to stay like that.”

  “And if I don't?”

  “Well then I'd have to do something to punish you, wouldn't I?” He withdrew his hand from her sex.

  Mary arched her hips, not wanting to lose that contact, that pleasure. “I'll be good,” she gasped.

  “You'll be more than good.”

  Once more he kissed her, fingers returning to their place buried deep within her. His hand shifted as he curled his fingers, increasing the pressure. He started thrusting with his hand in that position and Mary had to bite back a scream as his fingertips rubbed her g-spot.

  That was what she assumed it was, the throbbing pleasure deep within her. No one had ever touched her there, pleasured her that way before.

  “Can you come from just this?”

  “I…I don't know. I don't think so.”

  “Oh I think you will, pretty Mary.” Lips plucked at her nipple before teeth gently tugged the tight bud.

  Each small thrust of his hand rubbed his curled fingers over the sensitive flesh deep inside her as his mouth tormented her nipples. The pressure within her built until she was desperate for a release. She hovered there, on the edge of something wonderful.

  “Michael, please, I'm so close,” she gasped.

  He raised his head, meeting her gaze. His hand withdrew and then he was kneeling between her legs, his cock brushing her clit as he positioned himself at the entrance to her body.

  He thrust in and Mary came. The filling pressure of his cock was all she needed to release the coiled tension within her. Wrapping her arms around Michael, she clung to him, biting his shoulder to stifle her screams of pleasure. As her orgasm faded, he thrust hard and fast, until he too came, his panting breath loud in her ear.

  When they were done, Michael rolled off her.

  Mary shifted, pointing her toes and stretching her arms up to the headboard. Her stomach rumbled.

  Pressing her hands over her belly, Mary looked at Michael.

  “Hungry?” he asked.

  “Must be.” Mary felt alive and full of energy, despite the fact that it was the middle of the night. “Let's go find food.” She rolled over the top of Michael—who grunted—to get out of bed. “Come on.”

  “Where is it you think we'll get food at this hour?”

  “I don't know.” Mary zipped into the bathroom. When she came out, she went to the dresser and grabbed the castle map she'd been given at check in. “I think they said something about snacks or refreshments in one of these rooms.”

  Michael groaned and rolled over, showing no indication of joining in her middle-of-the-night adventure.

  Rather than being put off, Mary slapped him on the butt.

  Propping himself up on one elbow, Michael looked at her. “Are you always this feisty at four A.M.?”

  “Only after really great sex,” she assured him. “Are you coming with me?”

  “Of course, I wouldn't let you go out alone.”

  There it was again, that little thrill. When they were both dressed, Mary took Michael's hand and dragged him out into the hall. The sky outside the narrow window was deep blue and studded with stars.

  “I can't believe I'm wandering Glenncailty at night. Don't ever tell my mother that we did this.” Michael yawned as they closed the door.

  “Tell your mom you had mind-blowing sex with me? I wasn't planning on it.”

  “Ah, well, don't tell her that either, but I was going to say don't tell her that we're wandering around Glenncailty Castle at night.”

  “Because it’s haunted?”

  “I told you the stories.”

  She tried to laugh off his words, but couldn’t. There was something in the air, in the shadows, that made ghosts seem all too possible.

  Mary flashed back to that moment the first night, when she thought she’d seen something in the corner of her room. Then there was the figure in the third-floor window and the strange hallucination/dream she’d had when she fell on the stairs. If ghosts were real, which they weren’t, Glenncailty seemed like the kind of place where they’d linger.

  They stopped in the glass hallway that connected the east and main wings, looking up at the field of stars above them. Mary rested her head on Michael's shoulder, ghosts forgotten in the romance of the moment.

  “It's beautiful here.” The night was still and cold above them, but Michael was warm and strong at her back.

  “It is. The sky in Ireland, both day and night, is like nothing else.”

  “I wish my grandparents had come.”

  “Why didn't they?”

  “They said it's because they didn't want to travel, but they fly all the time to go on cruises. I assumed it was because it’s hard for them, remembering my parents.” She pinched him. “But that was before you charmed my grandma into a visit.”

  “I did no such thing.”

  “I’m telling you, she would not have said that if I’d been the one to ask.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I asked, isn’t it?”

  Easy silence filled the hall, and Mary was content to stand in his arms, looking at the stars.

  Michael squeezed her waist. “This is your home, and theirs, if they want it. If you want it.”

  Mary took a breath, a bit of her giddy mood fading at his serious words. “I think I'm starting to understand that.”

  The foyer had a few lights on, though there was no one there. A sign with an emergency number sat on the registration desk. Following the map, they went through the hallway on the opposite side of the foyer. They found the formal front room indicated on the map, but it was sadly devoid of snacks.

  “We could go play snooker,” Michael said.

  “Play what?”

  They went to the Billiard Room, slinking around like naughty children. Mary showed off her skill with a pool cue—a skill picked up during one particularly interesting year in college. It would have been better if it had been an actual pool table, instead of a snooker table which was larger and had rails—cushions as they were—and twenty-two balls in addition to the smooth white cue ball.

  After the tenth time she'd bumped him while he was trying to make his shot, Michael laid down his cue and grabbed her.

  “Sorry, sorry,” she laughed.

  “No, you're not.�
�

  “No, I'm not.”

  “Still hungry?”

  She shrugged. “We can get breakfast in the morning room starting in a few hours. I can wait.”

  “In Chicago, can you go out and get food any time?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, we have that in Dublin.”

  There was a hesitation in his voice she hadn’t heard before. Mary licked her lips, wondering where this was going. “I liked Dublin.”

  “I'd like to show you around—not the tourist places, but real Dublin. I think you'd love it.”

  “I…I'm sure I would.” Mary was having trouble breathing. Was he implying what she thought he was?

  Michael rubbed the back of his neck, a line between his brows. Trying to get away from the serious direction their conversation had taken, Mary busied herself putting away the snooker equipment. “So we'll eat in a couple of hours.”

  As she bent to slide the tray of balls into the slot on the underside of the table Michael ran his hand over her ass. “I can think of something to do until then.”

  “Oh, really?” She straightened and faced him, twining her arms around his neck. “What's that?” She was relieved that the conversation had gone back to the much safer topic of sex.

  Michael regarded her solemnly. “We should go get books about gardening and read them.”

  “Gardening, of course.” Mary matched his tone. “My Irish flora knowledge is sadly lacking.”

  “Or we could do this.” He kissed her until Mary was ready to lie back on the snooker table and have him fuck her on the green baize. Michael must have felt the same because he pulled away, grinning at her. “We should go.”

  “Mmmhmm.”

  Together they started back the way they came. For a moment Mary thought she heard something. Stopping, she looked back at the door at the far end of the hall. A small plaque on it said “West Wing” and below that a range of room numbers. It sounded like there was someone talking on the other side of the door.

  “I think we woke someone up,” she whispered, suddenly uneasy, and urged Michael on. They retraced their steps, headed for the east wing.

  Cold air washed over her as they entered the foyer. This place was painfully drafty, and Mary’s steps slowed as she shivered.