“Not in this bloody weather and not with Maud in the near vicinity.”
“Maud. Shit, I’d forgotten all about her.”
Sam climbed to his feet and smiled. “Maud who?”
He reached out to pull Meg into his arms, but she placed a hand on his chest and held him back. He made eye contact with her, and she smiled slowly.
“And for the record, if I ever succumb to Michael’s sad seduction techniques I’d be sure to invite you along to join in.”
“A threesome? Really?” He scratched his head. Was she serious? No way. Not with Michael. Not before hell froze over.
Meg giggled and he groaned. If the thought of her having sex with Michael while he watched was punishment for his behavior the night before, so be it. The pain was marginally less than having to run around in the snow in his birthday suit. Now he had that picture in his head, he had even more reason to make sure he kept his intimate moments with Meg intimate. She dropped her hand, and he moved closer, cupping her face. He gently stroked her cheeks with his thumbs as he planted a soft kiss on her lips. Mouths barely touching, he murmured, “I love you.” And she responded in kind. Tangling her hands in his hair, she tugged him closer until he drowned in the essence of her.
They finally pulled apart and he stared into her face, his heart rate lifted and he smiled. Meg Riley still loved him. “I promise never to drink again.”
She snorted in disbelief. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“Okay, how about I promise never to be jealous. I know you’re all mine.”
“Oh, am I now?” She raised an eyebrow. “I’m not a possession you can do what you want with.”
With a growl he lifted her off her feet and slung her over his shoulder. “Wanna bet?”
“Sam, what about the coffee?”
“Not thirsty. I’ve got other plans.” He flicked off the heat under the whistling kettle and carted her out of the room and up the stairs.
“What about Michael? What if he comes back?”
“He won’t. He’s tied up.”
“Will I be tied up?”
Blood rushed from his brain to his dick, and the sudden loss of oxygen made Sam stumble up the next step. “Jesus Christ, Meg. I’m working with a hangover here. Do you want me to drop you on your head?”
She grabbed a handful of his arse. “Nope, but you can drop me on your head, if you like.”
Sam groaned as his jeans became uncomfortably tight and the ascent to carry her to bed suddenly seemed higher than Mount Everest. Perhaps he should just lay her on the timber staircase and have his evil way with her as punishment for her teasing.
Chapter 20
Michael twirled the spoon around in his near empty cup and tried to look nonchalant as he watched Brigit go about her work. She’d put on a few pounds over the years but the weight made her appear more feminine. The boobs that had once been a handful would now be fit to drown in. Her blue eyes still seemed strangely vivid compared to her jet-black hair and fair skin.
Time and the responsibility of parenthood had done nothing to dim her beauty. And yet he could only admire her as you might the Mona Lisa; his heart simply wasn’t in it. Had he ever had feelings for her? Or had he just been led by his cock? He’d thought the emotion was love but time plays tricks on your mind.
So far she’d been too busy to do much more than greet him, but the patrons who were on a bus tour of Ireland slowly wandered out. He considered leaving and going to visit Aunt Rosalie for an hour or two to give Sam and Maggie time to make up alone, although, the thought of creeping back and watching them was tempting. They were quite an act. He wondered if Sam would tie her up. The level of kink they aspired to was truly magnificent, and the way she panted and yelled when she came was a wonder to behold. Suddenly feeling restricted in his tight pants, he shifted in his seat to try and get some oxygen to the boys before they shriveled and dropped off.
“That’s quite some wicked smile you have there, Mr. Monaghan. Is that how you bring the ladies undone?”
Michael’s rising libido plummeted back to earth as Brigit slid a fresh cup of coffee across the table. She slipped into an empty seat and nursed a cup of her own. For the life of him, Michael had no bloody idea what to say. His usual charm and wit with the fairer sex had deserted him.
“I’m only teasing you.” Her soft laugh made her eyes sparkle.
Apparently she wasn’t about to punch him in the nose or slap him across the face. And maybe, just maybe, she felt happy with her life. “How are things going with you, Brigit? Long time, no see.”
“I’m doing fine. I’d heard you’d been back to Dublin before but never once did you grace me with your presence. I’m honored you decided to visit me this time.”
Oh God, the conversation could be about to head in a direction he wasn’t ready for. He should have kept well away. Not that he knew she’d started working in the café. If he had, Sam would have been sobering up with just a bracing walk and the café would have stayed out of bounds.
“Happy accident.” He pushed to his feet. “Actually, I have to be somewhere else.”
The smile left Brigit’s face and he felt like a cad. He’d talk to her, just not now. Not until he felt ready. “I didn’t know you worked here but I did plan to visit you. To catch up, chew the fat, gab, you know.”
She smiled at his apparent inability to stop talking. “Why don’t you meet me later?”
He swallowed and took a deep breath. “Sure, why not?”
“I get off in an hour. I’ll be waiting for you.”
“An hour.” He coughed. God, he sounded like Mickey Mouse. They were talking about a coffee together not a medical procedure to remove his balls, although, right now, they felt like the same thing.
“Will I be seeing you in an hour?”
He nodded. “I’ll, um, I’ll come back.”
She folded her arms, and he crossed to the door and then glanced back.
“And mind you do, Mr. Monaghan. I know where you’re staying.”
The cool air made him shiver as he trudged back through the snow. He hadn’t been gone nearly long enough. If he knew Sam and Maggie, they could be banging away for at least a couple of hours. With no car he had limited options. Even more so since the café was now out of bounds until he grew a pair and had the conversation he needed to have with Brigit. So, his only options appeared to be an unplanned visit to the other cottage to try and talk sense into Maud and Declan, or to the main house to see Rosalie.
His decision to go visit with his aunt had everything to do with the fact Maggie would have more luck talking sense to Maud and nothing to do with the unwanted memory of Maud offering to take her teeth out and give him a blowjob while he lay handcuffed to a bed naked. Meg’s friend Laura had done him a favor letting Maud be his first customer. She’d cured him of wanting to prostitute himself for life. He could find better ways to make a living.
He banged his feet on the steps to knock off the snow and rang the doorbell. Footsteps sounded inside and his stomach knotted with a feeling of dread. What if Rosalie was out and Father Donnelly answered? He wasn’t in the mood for a lecture about the wages of sin. The whole summer he’d spent working around the village and living with them, the old man had gone on about it. He was certain the priest knew just what made Michael grin from ear to ear every time he came back from a bracing country walk. His good humor had nothing to do with the fresh air and everything to do with the bounty God heaped upon him. Bounty. He grinned; she sure appeared bountiful now.
Rosalie swung the door open. “Get that silly grin off your face. What if the wind changes? Do ya want to spend your whole life looking stupid?”
He straightened up his face and stood to attention.
“What are ya wanting? Did you break something at the cottage?”
Rosalie reached for her coat, and he shook his head. Yeah gads, if she walked in and saw what Sam and Maggie were up to she’d have a stroke. Bad enough people had sex to procreate
, never mind for fun. Being tied up would be way beyond her imagination. No way did he need the lecture about telling lies, and Maggie didn’t need to be separated from them.
“No, nothing’s up. I came out to get some air and I thought it would be nice to drop by. Gab a bit.”
“I’ve no time for gabbing. Take off your boots if yer coming in. And mind yer manners around the Father.”
Boots stowed in the outside porch, he closed the front door and followed her through to the kitchen. The hall walls were still painted the same shade of dark green he remembered. The brown and yellow runner that covered the middle of the cold red tiles looked a little more faded and worn, but the imposing oak staircase still gleamed from Rosalie’s constant polishing. How many times had she cuffed him around the ear for sliding down the banister? Apparently, young men with good breeding walked like gentlemen and didn’t act the goat. He tugged off his coat and hung the long leather garment on the peg.
“Is it a cup of tea you’re wanting?”
Rubbing his hands in front of the warm stove, he nodded. “Tea would be lovely if it’s not too much bother.”
The telephone on the wall trilled and he stepped back out of the way so she could reach across and answer. Shooing him away with a tea towel, she lifted the phone off the cradle. “Hello, Father Donnelly’s residence.” She turned and stared at Michael. “Oh, hello … How are ya? … Aye … Aye … Okay … I’ll make sure of it … You too.”
She hung up. A question hung on the tip of Michael’s tongue. He wanted to ask who’d called but decided things that were none of his business were best left alone. Although, from the way she looked at him he had a feeling his name may have been included somewhere in the conversation.
Chapter 21
Meg giggled as Sam finished climbing the stairs with her balanced over his shoulder. One smart smack on her backside turned her laughter to a squeal as heat flooded her body. “What was that for?”
“Slapping me last night, and just because I love to spank your sexy rear. Any complaints?”
She went limp and sighed. The world had tilted back on its axis and everything was as it should be. “None.”
He smacked her again. “Good girl.”
Sam let her slide down his front until her feet touched the floor. Still tense about Michael coming back she glanced at the top of the stairs.
“He’s not coming.” Placing a finger under her chin, Sam tilted her head until she looked into his eyes. “It’s just the two of us, alone.”
“In that case, you’re wearing too many clothes.” She tugged at his shirt, but he captured her wrists.
“You just want it hard and fast or do you want to play a little?”
“What with? You can’t have packed anything in your case.”
“I can improvise.”
Heart racing at the thought of Sam taking control and using any method of torture he could devise, she swallowed. “Improvise away.”
His grin sent her insides into a spin; evil, sexy and so damn desirable. God, she was hot for him. They hadn’t had sex since London and it was killing her. Maybe she did have the family hornyitus as she suspected, but as long as she had Sam happy to stoke her fire she’d enjoy it. She had no idea where the sexually repressed mouse she used to be had gone, but she decided she loved being a vixen. She had Sam to thank for waking up her sleeping libido.
Meg wrapped her arms around his neck and rubbed her face against his cheek, enjoying the rough feel of his stubble and the scent of warm man. “I love you.”
“I love you too, baby.” Sam unraveled her. “Now get naked and make it sexy.”
Her breath hitched for a second as she glanced around the room. The curtains were wide open. As if he read her mind, Sam flicked on the light before crossing the room and pulling them shut. He turned and leaned his butt against the windowsill.
“I’m waiting.”
Meg tugged her sweater over her head and then focused on Sam. He raised an eyebrow. “Grr … sexy.”
“The striptease?”
“The underwear.”
She giggled at his appreciation of her hot-pink bra. Slowly, she tugged off her woolen socks, and then unzipped her jeans and slipped them down her legs before stepping out of them.
“You’ve got a lot to learn about stripping.”
“Not sexy?”
He grinned and shook his head.
“Just because you were talked into doing a strip act for one night in the club, you think you’re such an expert.”
“Our performance got your mum to go home with your dad, didn’t it?”
“Come on then, show me.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and he chuckled. “Now that is hot. Your boobs look lush when you do that.” He crossed the room and walked around her, running a finger down her spine and making her shiver.
His fingers strayed around her waist and over her stomach. Heat radiated from his touch all the way to her fluttering abdomen and beyond. When she dropped her arms, he held her pink-clad breasts and placed gentle kisses on the flesh flooding over the top of each cup. She arched her back, desperate for him to touch her aching nipples. Instead, he reached around and unclasped her bra, letting it fall to the floor between them. She sighed in anticipation of his hungry mouth on her breasts, but he stepped back and folded his arms.
“Now where were we? Oh yes, you were going to learn sexy. Clasp your hands behind your back, and no touching or speaking or the show’s over. Okay?”
She managed to whisper a husky, “Yes, sir.”
Meg chewed her bottom lip, and moisture dampened her panties at the thought of Sam doing a personal striptease for her. With teasing slowness he pulled his shirt over his head, letting it hang from one arm before dropping it to the floor. The lamplight accentuated his toned pecs, tight abs and bulging biceps. Meg held her breath as he heeled off his boots and slowly pulled off each sock. Every move made his muscles ripple, and she was sure he could make doing anything sexy. The ache between her thighs reached a crescendo. She needed to be filled with him, but so far he had kept the one thing she wanted to get her hands on hidden inside his snug-fitting jeans. Hell, she could see from where she stood two feet away he had a woody that was almost busting his zipper. As Sam’s girlfriend she should do whatever was required to help ease his pain. He tugged his belt free of the buckle and grabbed hold of the tab for his zipper, but stopped when she took a step toward him.
“Ah ah, you moved. Show’s over.”
“What?” He stared at her and she swallowed. She’d broken the rules. “Are you going to punish me?” His only response was a grin that made her tremble. He was going to punish her and she couldn’t wait. Maybe she should keep misbehaving.
The grin disappeared and he stared at her. “You’re still wearing too many clothes. Panties off.”
She slipped her fingers in the sides of her tiny pink panties and pushed them down over her hips. When she bent to finish pulling them off, he stepped behind her, and holding her around the middle, rubbed his denim-clad crotch against her already tingling skin. The rough fabric and rock-hard man made her groan as a wave of lust washed through her. She started to straighten, but Sam placed a firm hand in the middle of her back.
“Hands on the end of the bed and spread your legs.”
When she was slow to comply, he shoved his knee between her thighs, and she grabbed the bed for support and stepped wider. Sam’s hand stayed in the middle of her back so she couldn’t get up, but he stepped away. She whimpered at the loss, but the sound morphed into a moan when he trailed a finger down her spine and then along the crack between her butt cheeks. The wandering digit continued its journey, and she braced for touchdown.
Her whole body was primed, her pussy moist and desperate to be filled. He swirled around her opening and she moved her legs wider to give him better access. He chuckled, and then the finger was gone.
His husky voice whispered, “Have you got any idea how sweet you smell.” Sounds of s
ucking filled the air and her pussy convulsed as she thought of that delicious mouth doing what Sam did best. “And you taste so good.”
He slipped his moist finger back between her legs and ran it the length of her slit stopping just short of her clit. The pressure in her abdomen built and spread until nothing existed beyond the need to come. With a chuckle, he pulled away and then began again, this time sliding just inside her opening before withdrawing and giving her clit a gentle nudge. The torture continued. Each time he slipped a little deeper, but any move on her part and he slipped his finger back out. The briefest glance over her clit each time had her fit to explode.
Bugger this, she needed him now. Breaking free, she turned in his arms and grabbed his belt. He tugged her hands away.
“Bad girl. Did I say you could straighten up and touch?”
His voice was gruff and the tinge of annoyance made her even wetter. If she pushed him enough he might stop playing, paddle her butt and screw her until she screamed for forgiveness. The thought sent her mind spiraling into free fall and she disregarded the danger of taking on Sam.
Using every ounce of strength, she fought to get her hands free, but Sam was no lightweight. He pumped iron for a living, and she was no match. Overpowering her, he lifted her off her feet and tossed her onto the bed. She squealed as she was trapped beneath him. She panted as she fought a combination of fear and lust at the thought of what he might do to her.
“Seems to me, young lady, you need a lesson in what ‘don’t touch’ means.”
He captured her arms and pinned her wrists above her head with one hand while wiggling and tugging his belt from his belt loops with the other. With his body pressed into hers and her arms trapped she had no way to escape but it didn’t stop her trying. Sam chuckled as he finally freed his belt. Scooting up the bed he wrapped the leather around her wrists and tightened it.
With a low whistle of appreciation he sat back on his heels and grinned at his handiwork. She panted in anticipation. Michael would be back soon, and so far all Sam had done was truss her up like a turkey. If he didn’t get his cock out and screw her mindless sometime soon, she would scream.
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