I ripped the zipper down on his shorts to free his thick cock, the upward curve of it so tempting. His mouth went back to my breast. I nearly roared at him, my cry so deep and wild. I gripped his hair, “Now, Mick, now.”
“I have to get a condom,” he mumbled into my flesh.
“No—on the pill, just do it. Just take me!” I demanded. I had the shakes from wanting him so bad, being so aroused. He grazed my nipple with his teeth and then I felt the crown of his cock, a single hot bead of liquid quivering on the tip, brush against my slit. I moaned and lifted my hips to take him. He slid in so easily despite his size.
“God, baby, you’re soaking wet,” he marveled as he rolled his hips and buried himself inside my tight passage.
“God, yes,” I moaned, “you’re so big, you touch every place inside me oh—” I trailed off as he worked his cock against a spot so sweet that I couldn’t bear it. I tried to crawl away from him, panting and pushing at him. It was too strong, too intense. I couldn’t stand the sweet bite of pleasure he gave me with every stroke.
“You stay put,” he said with a laugh, but his face was controlled. Mickey pumped into me, arcing his body to grind against my clit while his cock rubbed the place inside me that lit me up. I screamed and felt hot tears on my face, a strangled sound coming from my throat. My legs jumped on their own, stomach muscles cramping with the force of my orgasm and his continued his thrusts. I gripped his biceps, shuddering as I took it. He dipped his face and kissed my lips as I tried to catch my ragged breath.
I could feel the slick heat of his cock hot inside me, feel how different and intense every sensation was when he was raw, naked within me. Stripped bare. Somehow that made me feel things—emotions—I didn’t expect. I wrapped my arms around his neck, met his eyes, stayed with him, whispered to him as he bucked into me, powerful and sleek, finally coming in hot spurts that I felt with a strangely pleasurable sensation that left me gasping, “yes, Mick, yes.”
He collapsed on top of me, sweat slicking his muscled body, and kissed my face, my jaw and cheek, “Baby, that was incredible,” he said, “It’s never been like that before, not for me.”
It had never been like that for me either, but I couldn’t confess that. I had cried when he made me come. I had held him and whispered words to him that I didn’t want to admit, about how crazy I was about him, how he was amazing and I only wanted him. People say stupid shit when they’re in the throes of passion. It’s probably like being drunk.
Mindless and exhausted, so wrung out from that climax, I curled up against his side when he rolled over onto his back. He wrapped both arms around me and cuddled me close. I was in a happy place, floating between waking and sleep when he stirred a little.
“Kar?” he said.
“Yeah?” I mumbled.
“What were you thinking about earlier, when you clammed up on me?”
“Nothing.”
“Something,” he pressed.
“I was thinking maybe we wouldn’t be able to pick up where we left off. I was nervous because I thought while I was gone you might have found somebody else to spend your time with,” I admitted. It was more honesty than I had meant to give him. Damn orgasms loosened my lips like a truth serum.
“Baby, look at me,” he said. I tipped my head up to look at him. “There isn’t anybody else. I don’t want anybody but you.”
The funny thing was, when he said it, right in that moment, I believed it through and through. I fell asleep in his arms with my head on his. I’d never felt safer or happier in my life. I murmured something as I drifted off to sleep about being happy with him. I meant it right then, and nothing had ever been truer. The dangerous fact was becoming clear as ice and twice as cold. I was starting to believe I might need Mickey O’Shea in my life. For good.
Chapter 5
Mickey
I thought she’d be happy when I told her I only wanted her. She’d mumbled something about being happy and finished the sentence with a soft snore. I’d worn her out, and I was proud of it. I had the unique high clutching my chest, the one I only got when Karin let me make love to her, tender and real and so alive. Nothing had ever compared to what we shared on her waterbed though. All the playfulness had been stripped away. I’d been inside of her, raw and slippery and heady, a turn on and a coupling like I’d never felt in my life. My back bowed back when I’d spilled inside her and I thought I’d cracked my spine or broken my neck it hit so hard. And her arms around me had felt so sweet, so romantic. Like she was with me, really with me, and not this beautiful, sensual woman who seemed to slip from my grasp every time I thought I had her.
So imagine my surprise when she grew distant and stopped picking up most of my calls in the next few days. Sure, she answered once in a while, enough that she wasn’t ghosting me. But she damn sure wanted her space. I saw more of Elise than I did of Karin. At least Elise came into the pub every day and showed up at bonfires with Brendan. The first time we’d snuck off together, the first time she’d sat close beside me, her thigh touching mine, had been around the fire pit in our courtyard. It had been a great night. We’d spent it together, our first of many. We’d been inseparable. Insatiable, really. After she moved here and after that explosive homecoming in her new cabin, I thought it was the start of a new chapter for us, a more serious relationship, a real romance. Instead she went and backed right off.
When I had one of my rare days off from diving excursions, of course I called her to see if she could spend part of it with me. The call had gone to her voicemail, which I understood because she had a lot going on at the new agency. But when her text just said, Sorry I’m busy with a kissy emoji after it, I felt like she was hanging back on purpose. Nothing about she was busy until a certain time, but we could see each other after that or grab lunch or something. No attempt whatsoever to make time for me. I sighed.
Brendan was surfing with me, and I was trying to concentrate on having fun.
“What is the matter with you?” he asked. “You’ve wiped out six times. I’ve got hungover college kids that do better than that.”
“Thanks. That’s great to hear,” I said sarcastically.
“It can’t be business, and you’ve got a day off so what is it?”
“Karin. It’s like she’s avoiding me on purpose,” I said. “And if you ask me if I’m on my period, I’m gonna kick you in the nuts.”
“I’m not saying a word, Mick. If Elise so much as seems quieter than usual over breakfast, I start to think either there is something wrong with the baby or that I’ve made her regret moving here. Don’t tell Tommy. He’ll never let me hear the end of it.”
“Thank God. There’s another O’Shea with feelings,” I said wryly.
“Hey, snitches get stitches,” he reminded me.
“Isn’t that the first thing Grandad taught us?”
“No, the first thing he taught me was about having two cash boxes so you could keep some of your profits off the books. Good old, tax-evading bastard nearly lost his ass with those back taxes,” Brendan said, shaking his head.
“I must’ve missed that lesson,” I said, “what a shame. I remember more him saying we had to stand together as family and never let anything come between us. And also after the second drink you can water it down a lot more and the patrons won’t notice. It saves on overhead costs.”
“Was Grandad kind of an asshole?” Brendan chuckled.
“Yeah, you just now figuring that out?” I asked.
“I wonder what advice he’d give you about Karin?”
“Since he cheated on Gran and was probably as unscrupulous in marriage as he was in business… I’m not sure I’d wanna stitch his advice on a pillow.”
“Probably ‘tell your wife you have a meeting at the church so you can bang your girlfriend.’”
“Nah, probably more like, use a rubber if it ain’t your wife. Bastards get expensive.”
“That sounds depressingly more like him,” Brendan admitted, “so I’m thinking do
n’t quote him in the wedding toast.”
“Oh, come on. Wedding guests love that kind of thing. ‘Congratulations to Elise and Brendan. May your love continue to grow, and may your husband remember to use a rubber if he whores around according to O’Shea family tradition.”
“Connor would beat your ass for that one before I ever got across the table at you. And there’s a chance Brandi would go for your knees,” Brendan said.
“I just wish I knew what was up with her. I can’t believe she moved here and things are more uncertain with us than ever. Instead of us getting closer, she stays away.”
“Dude, Elise is insanely busy with this new account, and they’re booked up down at the agency. See if things die down in a week or so. Don’t panic,” he advised.
“That could be it. She had said they had a big campaign for some hotel.”
“I’m sure that’s all it is. Just trust her and don’t give up,” Brendan said.
I nodded and we paddled back out to catch a wave. My balance improved a little since I was less in my head about Karin after talking with my brother. We surfed for hours. When we were finally ready to pack it in, we decided to go get something to eat from one of the vendors down the beach.
Brendan got a chicken sandwich and fries and went to find a seat at a picnic table for us. I went on down the beach to find the kebab truck I liked. I took a drink of my cold beer and leaned against the truck while I waited on my order.
That’s where I saw Karin stretched out on a lounge chair in sunglasses and a neon pink bikini. She didn’t look busy to me. She looked like she’d found something she’d rather do than spend time with me.
The guy on the truck gave me my kebabs, but the fact was, I’d lost my appetite.
Chapter 6
Karin
It was about time I took a break. Even Elise, who was such a workaholic, told me I had to leave work or she was going to kick me out. I’d been working nonstop on the new campaign. A local hotel had been totally renovated and was ready to reopen. They hired us to coordinate all the marketing and advertising for their reopening. I had photographed so many interiors and tasting menu items and so many beauty shots of the property exteriors. It was a wonder I could focus my eyes much less a camera lens at this point.
It was cloudy last night so I had to wait until the sky cleared around two in the morning to do my nighttime exteriors of the pool and the lighted landscaping. I had gone to bed without even taking a shower and went to work sort of rumpled and bleary-eyed. After editing some of the images, and downing three Diet Cokes to stay awake, Elise sent me to go get some sun and have a nap. I appreciated it a lot, honestly. I’d be better off tackling the shots with fresh eyes tomorrow. She knew that about me, but she also knew how stubborn I could be. If I hadn’t trusted her so much, I would never have let her press the issue until I gave in. I didn’t want her worrying about me when she needed to take care of herself better during pregnancy.
I had eaten a huge breakfast at a crappy looking local diner that had the best freaking pepper and mushroom omelet with pepper jack I’d ever had, and six pieces of bacon. After that I had a nap in my cabin, managing to sneak into the O’Shea courtyard unseen because they were all at work. When I woke up, I headed out to the beach to relax. I broke out the fluorescent pink string bikini—the kind I usually didn’t have the nerve to wear with a rack the size of mine, and set out to get rid of some of my tan lines. All I had with me besides my keys and my phone was a big bottle of water. And I had the phone turned off. It was pure bliss. Just the crash of waves, the sound of distant voices and the sweet warmth of the sun tempered by the occasional salty breeze. Absolute freaking paradise. Later I might even tell Elise she was right. If I could make myself admit that.
I felt kind of bad for not calling Mickey. I hadn’t seen him since the first night I got back, but I’d been busy. And I’d been shitting-a-brick scared since I had that weird feeling when we slept together. The feeling that I might need him. That I might really fall for him. I suspected I was half in love with him already, and that was more than I felt emotionally equipped to deal with.
He’d surprised me saying he didn’t want anyone but me. He’d also terrified me. I didn’t want to be the end-all for him. He deserved someone great, someone who didn’t delete guys’ numbers after five dates and never call or text again. Someone who didn’t secretly believe a relationship would ruin everything. But I didn’t want him to see other people, and if that wasn’t a warning sign of being in too deep, I didn’t know what was.
If I learned one thing growing up other than how to take great pictures with a crappy yard sale camera, it was the lesson my mom never meant to teach me. Never depend on a man for anything. Ever. Not just my dad, whoever the hell he was. But the boyfriends. Goddamn the boyfriends. My mom was beautiful, and she had a rack that wouldn’t quit. I inherited the rack, but the problem was, I was pretty sure I attracted her asshole-magnetism too. The woman had dozens of boyfriends when I was growing up. A couple who stuck around way too long, but most of them in and out in a few weeks. Every one of them was a complete loser. Guys who cheated on her, stole her tips, wrecked her lousy car, had to be bailed out of jail for drunk and disorderly—you name it. She was so attracted to these creeps—or thought she didn’t deserve any better.
Her parents were never part of my life because they kicked her out when she got pregnant with me. Maybe that’s where the problem started, the belief she was worthless, that she needed a man, that she would turn herself inside out to get a man to stay with her. But they never did. Keith stuck around for a little over two years when I was eight or nine. He was nice to me at first, trying to get in my mom’s pants obviously. Then once he moved in, I was a nuisance. He didn’t want me hanging around trying to get his attention or show him whatever crap I was drawing or doing for school. And after the first few months, he started screaming at my mom and breaking shit. We didn’t have nice things, but he smashed most of what we did have. He kicked in the Barbie house my mom had got me at a rummage sale, just ran his work boot right through it when he was mad. My mom yelled at him then, and I got to see him backhand her.
That’s what men did. They acted nice in the beginning, then they just took and took until you had nothing left. Not one man in my adult life had ever proved that maxim wrong. So I like a short-term fling. Fun, going out, having sex, never getting serious, never getting ripped off or getting emotional.
Mickey was a stumbling block for me. He was so damn nice. All the time. Like he had no clue he was that good looking and could probably get away with acting like a real bastard and still get laid. He was sweet to me, and he made it clear he wanted more than just a summer fling. He was going to push me to start going on dates and being exclusive. Every time he mentioned Chicago, his hometown, my skin flushed and started to itch. I knew it’d break out in hives if he asked me to go meet his mother or something and that was the opposite of what I wanted. I wanted to find an apartment as soon as I could so I could get the hell out of O’Shea territory.
Granted, I was employed by a soon-to-be O’Shea, but that wasn’t an issue. We were besties. She’d be disappointed when I broke up with Mickey, but she would mainly give me lectures about not knowing my own value. I would argue that I did. I was a damn good photographer and always learning, always setting goals like where I want to travel. No way in hell I’d let myself falter and lose my independence.
I just didn’t want a man long-term. Same reason I didn’t have a pet. They were cute, but too much trouble. Although in fairness a pet wouldn’t crash your car and clean out your checking account and then go fuck some barmaid while you’re waiting tables. The problem was, I wanted Mickey all the time. I’d be editing photos or setting up a shot, totally in my zone and focused, and I’d get a flashback of him bending me over that counter and pounding me. Or I’d have a chill run up my spine at the memory of Mick’s hand palming my ass and then probing between my thighs with those long fingers. It made me juicy just thin
king of it. My legs twisted together a little at the thought. I wanted his hands on me, his mouth on me, all the time. There was never a moment day or night when I didn’t want him.
I was lying there in the sun, face down on my lounge chair. I heard a male voice. I tried to ignore it. I was happy and relaxed. I had no interest in talking to anyone. The voice came again. I didn’t register what was said. I didn’t give a shit. Then someone touched my bare calf. I jerked away and sat up.
“Hey, I was trying to get your attention, but I bet you get that all the time,” some guy said. Some guy with sunglasses and blonde hair and apparently no understanding of social cues when my current signals were ‘leave me alone’ and ‘you better not fucking touch me again.’ I sat up, pulling my towel in front of me and dabbing it halfheartedly on my neck like I was wiping off sweat when I was just using it to shield myself from his eyes.
“Hi. I’m sure you’re a great guy, but I’m here on my own because I want to be. So if you don’t mind,” I said, more politely than I wanted to.
“Oh, I sure as hell don’t mind what you got going on here. That ass like a juicy peach just hanging out the back of your tiny bikini…” he licked his lips. The fucker licked his lips.
Then he sat down at the end of my lounger. I got to my feet and wrapped the towel around me, tucking the corner in front to hold it up. It was a big beach towel, but this creep made me feel exposed. I gathered my stuff.
“So, I’m going to take off now. Have a great day,” I said.
“Don’t go, baby,” he said, “you got time to hang out. Everybody’s on vacation, right? No hurry. Just sit that sweet ass back down on this lounger, unless you wanna go ahead and sit on my face.”
Mickey's Baby Page 4