by E. Jamie
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Three
Sara liked sex, she decided. After she had healed, Connor wanted to show her all the different ways they could pleasure each other. She was dumbfounded at all the things Connor knew. It was another few days before they even left their room while Sara was initiated by her husband. Finally, exhausted, she insisted they see more of Ireland than their bed.
They visited the tourist attractions that Mary had mentioned. Connor took them on long drives to out-of-the-way places that Sara really enjoyed. It was like they were the only two people in the world, and she loved it. Connor enjoyed the fact that they were away from many of the vendors who had the uncanny ability to separate him from his money.
Today, they were out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but grass and wildflowers. He parked the car, and the radio played music while they ate their lunch.
Sara and Mary had filled up the picnic basket with sandwiches and a bottle of wine. Sara leaned her head back on Connor's chest as they sat. Talk turned to the future. “I've always wanted to do something with fashion,” she reminded him.
"I can set you up with the right people if you'd like,” he offered. He'd worked with some caterers on a few fashion shows and had hit it off with most of the designers he'd met on the job.
"No thanks. I need to do this on my own without any of your help or my parents’ money. I love you for offering though.” She turned around and kissed him. His face was serious when she pulled back. “What is it?"
"Your parents. They might be worried about you. We could call them to let them know you're all right."
"Don't feel bad for my parents. If they had their way, I'd be married to that damn stuffed-shirt banker Steven like they had arranged,” she said, feeling the old anger well up inside her.
He forced a smile. “Well then, I guess we'd just have to have a torrid affair."
Sara shook her head. “I won't call them. We'll just go back to Florida and move into our house like we planned. We'll be happy and live our lives and have our babies."
"Many, many babies.” Connor nodded.
Sara raised an eyebrow at him. “Many babies? Who's giving birth to these little suckers, you or me?"
"You know you could be pregnant right now, and we don't know it.” Connor placed a hand over her stomach.
They hadn't used condoms. Sara hadn't wanted to, and Connor hadn't complained. They were married now. They had gotten all the necessary tests done beforehand, and Sara trusted Connor with all her heart. “Do you want a boy or girl first?” she asked, wondering if there was a life growing inside her at just that second. The idea thrilled her.
"Whatever.” He shrugged.
"Liar.” She smiled at him. “All men want sons first."
"Nathaniel Nolan,” Connor announced.
Sara screwed up her face. “Oh no. Everyone will call him Nate."
"What's wrong with that? Nate the Great,” Connor said with a smile.
"Okay, how about Nathan for short?” Sara offered. “Even though I know people will still call him Nate. Poor kid. I get to pick the girl's name."
"Fine. Just so long as it's not Eugenia or Marigold or some shit like that,” Connor pleaded.
"Actually, I like Victoria,” she said with a devilish grin.
Connor stared at her horrified. “We are not naming my daughter after your mother!” he stated.
"Your daughter, huh? Oh God, I'm kidding.” Sara laughed, clutching her stomach. When she calmed down, she suggested the names she truly preferred. “No, I was thinking Lily or Rose."
"Rose Nolan. Sounds like a politician's wife."
"Or a politician,” Sara countered.
"I like it. It sounds strong like her mother.” He kissed the top of her head.
"I'm not very strong,” Sara said, a sudden shudder ripping through her. It wasn't particularly cold today.
"Are you kidding me? You're one of the strongest, bravest women I know."
"Connor, I'm just brave if you're standing beside me."
"Always,” he promised, quoting the word that had been etched into their wedding bands.
To break the sentimental moment, he piled his sandwich into his mouth but left half of it hanging out so it looked like he had a second set of lips.
"Good Lord. I'm married to a six-year-old.” Sara laughed.
He raised an eyebrow and took out the sandwich. He took her hand and placed it on his groin. “Does that feel like a six-year-old to you?"
"Mmmm, maybe an eight-year-old,” she joked.
He jumped on her and pinned her flat on her back against the grass. “You sure about that?” he asked, grinding his erection between her legs.
She grew wet at the pressure.
He smiled at her, a light coming on in his blue eyes. He lowered his mouth to her neck.
"Connor, what are you doing?” Sara asked even as she arched her neck toward him.
"Shhh. I'm about to thoroughly fuck my wife. You got a problem with that?"
"Connor! No!” Sara cried with a weak moan, feeling his mouth slide down her neck. She turned her head to make sure that there really was no one around.
"Relax, baby. You're gonna like this,” Connor promised, raising a hand to cup her breast.
Sara hissed when his thumb stroked her nipple. Her body flooded with warmth that pooled between her legs. “Someone's gonna see us.” She tried to penetrate her husband's horny brain. The air caressed her bare arms, and she noticed the grass scent seemed stronger to her heightened senses.
"Shush.” Connor ordered. “I'd like to fuck my wife if you don't mind,” he said taking a small nip at her collarbone.
"Jesus. You've lost your mind, and I must've too, to let you ... Oh sweet Jesus."
His mouth captured her breast through the flimsy material of her dress and cut off any further protest. Her fingers wound themselves in his hair bringing him closer. His hands reached down to lift up the hem of her baby blue summer dress, teasing up her thighs with his fingers. It was at that second the Sara felt the first drop of rain on her face. She opened her eyes just when another came down. “Uh, Connor?"
His hands traced the line of her panties easing them down. “Mmm?” he asked, intent on what he was doing.
"Baby, I ... Oh God!"
His fingers dipped inside to stroke the moist evidence of her desire. She struggled to organize her thoughts. “It's rain,” she blurted out. He continued to drive her mad with his long, beautiful fingers.
Connor lifted his head in surprise. It was then that the downpour began. Rain pelted them now without mercy. They stared at each other, shocked, but then Connor grinned and captured Sara's mouth again.
He's crazy! she thought when his tongue plundered hers “Connor. It's raining,” she protested when he finally let her up for air. A clap of thunder seemed to shake the ground beneath her back. The grass was now damp and sticky against her legs.
"Mm, I've noticed.” His mouth found her other breast. “You're not afraid of getting wet are you?” His hand traced the slick moisture at her core. “No, I didn't think so.” He smiled and began pulling the straps of her dress down.
"No, you horny idiot! We could get electrocuted."
"What a way to go.” He laughed. His mouth trailed down over her stomach, his hands bringing the dress down with it.
The excitement of what they were doing seemed to now override any nervousness of anyone seeing them. Nobody would be out in this downpour. Connor's blond hair was now darkened, almost brown, thanks to the rain showering them. He arched his neck, putting his head back to take some of the rainwater into his mouth and drizzled it onto her stomach.
The warm water made Sara sigh, and she shifted against him, restless. To hell with it. This felt too good to stop. His finger slipped inside her, followed by a second, then a third. Sara arched back, and he thrust his hand back and forth. “Oh please ... Oh yes.” She raised her hips with each movement. He thrust his fingers faster,
then slower, then faster again.
Sara reached for the buttons at his now soaked pants and undid them. Reaching inside, she grabbed his hot length with her hand and stroked him until he was full against her palm.
"Fuck, Sara, don't stop. Get me hard, baby. I'm gonna fuck you ... good,” he vowed, his breath coming in short bursts, and the rain dripped off him onto her legs.
His thumb brought her to the edge of release then stopped. She squeezed him, begged him to keep going. He pulled away, peeled off his damp clothes, and knelt in front of her, naked and hard. She shivered in anticipation, remembering what he felt like inside of her. No longer did she feel that moment of unease. Now she wanted him hard and deep, knowing how exquisitely he could fuck her.
He turned away from her so that his cock was at her face, and his face was between her legs. Sara took the hint and took him into her mouth. Licking, sucking, teasing until she felt him ready to explode in her mouth. It wasn't long before he reached back and pulled himself out with a whimper, as if it hurt him to leave the warmth of her mouth. Connor flipped around so that he lay on top of her now, protecting her from the rain. He spread her legs and gave one swift, deep thrust. Sara gasped, feeling him fill her completely. Rolling his hips, he pushed in harder, deeper.
Oh God, this is good! He felt thicker, harder. His movements were rougher now that he no longer had to be gentle with her. He hit places inside her she didn't know were possible. Sara lifted her legs and wrapped them around him digging the heels of her bare feet into his behind, pushing him in deeper.
"You like that, huh?” Connor panted against her face.
"Yes, oh God, Connor. More,” Sara begged clutching at him.
He flipped them both over so that she was now on top of him. He thrust upward, and she bit down on her lip, her pussy tightening in glorious acceptance around him.
"Fuck ... Oh God,” Connor groaned.
Sara arched back and felt her orgasm begin to surge. She closed her eyes while the rain pelted her face. He dug his fingers into her hips painfully, but she reveled in the feeling.
The man set her on fire, blazing in contrast with the rain. Sara reached out and dug her fingers into the sweet damp grass. Her orgasm slammed into her so hard she pulled at the grass bringing up clumps of fresh dirt. Sara cried out her husband's name as she bucked on top of him.
He pushed up hard once more and came, screaming out with his orgasm.
Sara collapsed on top of him and, smiling, she licked the raindrops from his fingers. “Dear God, that was beautiful."
"Watching you come like that ... the most beautiful fucking ... thing I've ever seen,” Connor said in broken words, struggling to breathe again.
"I love you,” Sara said, hugging him and still throbbing from his possession.
"God, I love you,” Connor said, burying his face in his wife's wet hair.
* * * *
They were going sailing today. Connor had driven on ahead to rent a boat.
"Just make lots of food because we'll be out on the water for a while. Meet me down there when you're ready. Give me about two hours,” Connor told her that morning with a devilish smile.
Sara narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you up to, Nolan? Why can't I come down with you now?"
Connor rolled his eyes at her and winked at Mary. “I have such a nosy wife. Don't you think so?"
Mary shook her head, laughing.
Connor leaned in and kissed Sara on the lips while grabbing his jacket. “I'll see you down there,” he said, turning away and walking out of the kitchen.
Mary helped Sara cook up some lobster and salads for the day. Halfway through the preparations, Sara was yawning every few seconds. She wasn't surprised. Connor was a very passionate and thorough lover. Her body still tingled from that day in the rain. He wore her out, but she was only too happy to give in to that man's touch every time.
"Why don't you go up and take a nap?” Mary suggested. “I'll call you down when the food is ready, and Jake will take you down to the docks."
"Are you sure?” Sara asked, yawning again.
"Go on before you fall down.” Mary pushed her toward the stairs.
"Bless you,” Sara said to her.
She lay in their room and closed her eyes. A few minutes later, or what seemed to be a mere few minutes, she popped up in her bed. Her heart was racing, her mind spinning, and she was shaking from the dream she had just had. Nightmare, she corrected mentally. She dreamed she'd been trapped under water, drowning, unable to breathe. She could just make out a hand reaching into the surface of the water to save her, but she couldn't reach it. Whose hand was it, she wondered. She shook her head. Of course, it was Connor's hand. Who else's could it have been?
There was a knock on the door, and Sara called out, “I'm up, Jake. Just give me a sec, and I'll be right down.” She wanted to wash the sleep from her eyes. Damn. She still felt exhausted. What was wrong with her? She hoped she'd get over it soon. This was the last week of their honeymoon, and she didn't want to spend it in bed. Well, she corrected herself, not sleeping anyway. She grinned to herself. Jake knocked again. Odd, she thought. I thought I told him I'm on my way. She pulled the door open. Two official-looking men greeted her with somber faces. Shit. My parents found us. “Did my parents send you?” Sara glared at them. “Well, you can just turn around and go back to them and tell them I'm not coming back. I married the man I love, and I'm staying with him."
"Yer Mrs. Nolan?” One of them asked speaking with a thick Irish accent.
The skin on her arms prickled. “Yes, is something wrong?"
"We are so sorry to bring ye this news, miss. Yer husband. He is dead."
Sara's hand flew to her mouth, and she let out a gasp. Oh the poor woman, she thought. “I'm sorry. God. You must be looking for someone else. My husband's down at the docks getting us a boat.” Sara noticed Mary standing behind the men. Her eyes closed.
"Yer Sara Nolan, aye?” one of them asked.
"Yes but...” It was then that she saw it. Connor's jacket was folded over the older man's arm. She shook her head, confused, refusing to let the thought grip her. “Where did you get that? That's his jacket."
"I'm so sorry, lovey,” the man said.
Sara backed away from them. “No,” she said softly, as if that one word could save her from the horror threatening to consume her. The pity on their faces was too much. She closed her eyes against it.
Mary pushed past them to Sara. “Oh, honey, I'm so sorry.” She wrapped her arms around her.
"No, Mary.” Sara shook her head “It's a mistake. It has to be. Connor wouldn't die. We ... we have to go sailing today. He loves the ocean, Mary. He wouldn't miss that. And you! Give me that!” Sara pulled Connor's jacket out of the man's grasp.
"There was an explosion on the boat. Yer husband was killed in the blast, I'm afraid."
"Explosion?” Sara asked. She stared back down at the jacket fingering the material. “Oh, then he's really gone?” she asked struggling to fight through the haze in her mind and understand what these men were telling her. “I want to see his body,” she demanded.
Mary stroked her cheek. “Sweetie, there's nothing to see. The explosion—"
"Noooooooooo!” Sara screamed when the truth of her words slammed into her.
Mary's eyes filled with tears.
"No! He ... Oh God, no! Please, Mary. It's a mistake. It has to be!” Sara cried, her knees buckling.
Mary held her while she sobbed and then turned to the men. “What caused the explosion?"
"A bomb. Somebody bombed the boat he was on,” one of them explained.
"Wait, if Connor was killed in the explosion, how is his jacket in one piece?” Mary asked.
Sara pulled away and answered her. “He always takes his jacket off. He doesn't—” Sara took a deep breath. “He didn't like to wear it under the life jacket.” Past tense. Oh, God, help me. He's gone. Inside, Sara was screaming, but she refused to share anymore of her grief with these t
wo stiff-looking bastards. “Get out,” she whispered.
"All of you. Please.” Mary turned toward the men. She led them outside and closed the door behind her.
Sara stared at the jacket, lifting it to her nose. Oh God, his smell filled her. Never again would she feel his skin, see his eyes, or hear his voice. She moved backward toward the bed and slipped the jacket on. It still felt warm, and she clutched at it, desperate for some last evidence of the body that had been in it. Her hands slipped into the pockets, and her fingers on her right hand touched metal.
Her heart stopped. “No,” she moaned. She pulled the thick band and stared at it. His wedding ring. He always took any jewelry he had off when he went out onto the water. He was paranoid that he'd lose it. She turned it over in her fingers, and she caught the word engraved on the inside. Always. She clutched it tightly, fury making her shake, and she screamed when she flung it against the wall. “Liar!” she shouted. She screamed like a wild animal over and over and threw herself on the bed where he had first taken her and where he had first brought her to life. She tore at the sheets. They filled her nose with the scent of their lovemaking. Hate, strong and powerful, gripped her core and took root and made her go numb.
* * * *
Sara watched the sun come up from her position on the floor. Another day. A new day. Connor was still dead. What the hell was the sun doing coming up? Didn't it know she was dying inside? The sheets, crumpled in a heap on the floor, lay beside her from when she had torn them off the bed. She stared at the bare mattresses. She hadn't slept. She just sat, knees drawn to her chest, and stared out into the darkness. She couldn't lie in the bed. Not in their bed. Just the idea brought in a fresh wave of nausea, and she ran to the bathroom for the third time that night. After emptying the contents of her stomach again she sat against the toilet. Her throat hurt. Her whole body hurt. Her heart ... Oh God, her heart felt literally, physically broken. There was a soft knock on the door. Go away, she pleaded in her mind. Unless you're Connor, go away. She heard the door open and Mary's voice call out.