The Irishman: Book 1 (For The Love Of The Irish)

by V Vee

  I worked Kyra steadily with my lips and tongue, alternating between her clit and her inner labia, probing her and then moving back up to her pleasure center, until I was certain she was on the very edge of climax—so close she could taste it. I pulled back then, licking my lips of the last of her juices, feeling the slickness on my bearded chin and cheeks, and grinned as Kyra groaned in frustration at the orgasm she hadn’t quite achieved.

  “I know, I’m a fucking asshole,” I said when Kyra’s eyes opened, and she half-scowled at him.

  “No. You’re a fucking cunt-tease,” she said, and I laughed again.

  “Do you want me to finish you off with my mouth… or do you want to go straight to the main event?” I quirked an eyebrow, grinning at her and shifting slightly to relieve some of the pressure on my throbbing, aching cock. I was definitely more than ready to move onto the main event—but of course, if Kyra wanted me to finish her with my mouth, I’d go right back to work. It was her birthday after all.

  “Well now that you’ve thrown me off just short of getting me off, we might as well,” Kyra said, half-irritable and half-amused, and I slithered up along her body, pressing wet kisses to her hip, her navel, her breastbone, and then her lips. I slithered out of my shorts, rubbing against Kyra’s body, for a moment or two thankful for the relief just of contact with her body, the closeness. Then, when I couldn’t take the suspense anymore, I guided the tip of my cock up against her slick folds and thrust into her slowly, sinking past the initial tightness of her pussy inch by inch.

  Still so fucking tight. Still so fucking wet.

  Still so gahtdamn good.

  I sank into her, deeper and deeper, until our hips pressed flush together and then for a dozen heartbeats stayed perfectly still. I kissed her lightly on the lips, catching the moan that left her throat as I pulled out and then thrust back into her. We found our rhythm just as quickly as we had our first time together, and I let my lips wander over her face, down to her chest, claiming her everywhere I could reach.

  I groaned against her neck as I felt her muscles tightening around me with every movement of our bodies together, her wet heat wrapping around my throbbing cock like a glove. I reached down between our hips and found her clitoris, just above where I thrust into her. I began to stroke and rub her in counterpoint to my thrusts and groaned out again as I felt her muscles tighten around me in a convulsive spasm. I smiled to myself, gradually building up my pace, thrusting a little faster and a little harder into Kyra’s body. Her hands wandered all over me, caressing and kneading, and her legs wrapped tightly around my waist as she pushed her hips down to meet my thrusts, her tight muscles flexing around me as they moved together.

  I kissed Kyra again and again, rubbing her pleasure center more steadily as I thrust harder and faster, picking up my pace every moment. I wanted to last as long as possible, but I knew that wasn’t going to be likely—fortunately, I knew this wasn’t going to be our last time together. Probably not even our last time together that day.

  Maybe if I get everyone out of here early, I can fuck her out on the lawn.

  But for the moment, I was focused entirely on the present—the feeling of Kyra’s body wrapped around me, the way she fit me absolutely perfectly, the heat and wetness of her pussy on my cock as we both became more and more turned on. I claimed her nipples and then her lips once more, before giving myself up to the pleasure of Kyra’s body completely, no longer even thinking about anything except for the orgasm I could feel building up along my balls and cock, like a hot wire coiling deep down from somewhere in my hips and into my balls. I pounded into Kyra with abandon, catching her moans and swallowing them down, touching and tasting her, barely holding back as I felt the tension mounting in her body with every moment that passed. I kept myself on the edge, barely slowing down to keep from tumbling over it, until I felt the telltale clutch of her hands on my shoulders, the shudder that ran through her body.

  I managed to hold back a little longer, until the first erratic spasms of Kyra’s pussy tightening around my shaft drove me over the edge. I followed her into the climax, thrusting into her with abandon as I came, wave after wave of pleasure washing through me, coursing through my nervous system. I tried to keep it going for as long as I could, but after a few minutes that felt like ages, I could feel the waves beginning to ebb and slowed to a stop, panting slightly, out of breath. I sagged against Kyra’s body, pressing a lazy kiss to the side of her neck, and held onto her as the aftershocks of my orgasm worked through my body and hers alike. I could feel the way she tensed around my dick in little echoes of her orgasmic spasms, feel the way she was breathing heavily still, the mad flurry of her pulse at her neck and all I felt was a surge of masculine pride.

  I knew she wouldn’t forget who I was after this.

  I was Andrew McCarthy, The mother-fucking Irishman.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Kyra- K-Love

  When Andrew and I returned to the party I was so satisfied I couldn’t even be embarrassed when all of our friends, our people, our family, started to applaud. Andrew’s brothers whistled, whooped, and hollered, stomping their feet as they congratulated Andrew for “puttin’ it on me.” I simply shook my head and walked away, heading towards my girls who watched me with looks of envy, surprise, and even suspicion.

  “What the fuck’s wrong with you bitches? Haven’t you ever seen a woman get her back cracked?” I asked with a smirk.

  “Um… yes, we have, just not you. Always thought your ass was a prude,” Charlotte, my personal lawyer, and that of most of my people, said throwing a side-eye glance over at Andrew’s brother, Brodie. Charlotte was beautiful, all my girls were. She stood at an “imposing” five-feet-nine inches, making her one of the tallest of us all, with a curvy figure and a thin waist, she never stepped foot out of her front door without looking like the badass lawyer that she was. She was the only one, besides Brodie, who was wearing a suit to a barbecue. She’d told us it was because she was preparing a deposition, but I thought it was because the suits gave her a confidence she didn’t often feel.

  “I’m going to ignore that rude ass comment, little Miss I-Am-Boycotting-The-Dick.” I gestured at her with the tip of my bottle of Corona™. “So, what’s up with you and Brodie?” I teased with a waggle of my eyebrows.

  “Ooh, yes girl. Spill!” Harper remarked with a laugh.

  Charlotte shook her head. “Oh, I know you aren’t talking! What was with that whisper-shouting match between you and Detective Galvin?”

  I gasped and looked at Harper. Not my Harper. Everyone knew that Harper had only slept with one person and one person only. It was the man who had gotten her pregnant in high school. The one we couldn’t ever discuss for fear of her whipping out her razor blade and threatening to cut us with it. We all loved our goddaughter, Galil, but now that I knew there was some connection between Harper and Galvin, I had to wonder…

  I lowered my voice and leaned over towards Harper, with her ebony skin, long, thick, black hair, and features that made her look a bit like Tika Sumpter, only with more curves, and fuller lips, I definitely knew why Andrew’s younger brother had fallen for her in high school. If indeed he was the one.

  “Is Galvin Galil’s father?” I ask in a low voice.

  All of my girls gasped, then turned to look at Andrew and his brothers. It was like someone had turned on the light. All of Galil’s adorable features were reflected on Galvin’s face. From the dimple in her left cheek, to those green eyes, her nose, even her ears. The only thing she’d gotten from Harper had been her lips. My eleven-year-old goddaughter was gorgeous, but now that I was looking closer, she was all Galvin.

  Oh fuck. What the hell have I gotten my people into?

  I remember how devastated Harper had been when she’d found out she was pregnant. How horrified her parents had been. Her father, the former mayor and traveling missionary, and his dutiful wife, Harper’s stepmother who’d raised Harper since her own mother’s death at the age of two. Har
per’s parents had been upset, but had taken her and Galil in, helping Harper to raise the little girl through her senior year of high school and all through college and graduate school. Michele and I were younger than a lot of our friends, but Harper’s story was one I remembered, if only because of her parents coming to my grandmother for help. It was how she and I had met and become friends, even with her being four years older.

  Harper hissed at me and sliced her hand through the air.

  “No. Galil is mine. She has no father, especially not Galvin McCarthy,” she snarled, before turning on her heel and stomping away.

  I watched as Galvin stared at her the entire time, before he excused himself and strode after her. I shook my head completely stupefied.

  What. The. Fuck?

  “Oohh, girl. You have stirred up some shit,” Michele snickered as she leaned against me.

  I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t sure if Michele was drunk or high, maybe both, but I knew that if I was going to be playing mediator, I could not deal with her antics. I looked around for Manus. Oh yeah, I was totally going to foist my best friend off onto her new man, but I couldn’t find him.

  “Bitch, how the fuck you drunk already?” Victoria asked with a laugh.

  Michele wagged her finger. “Nonono. ‘M not drunk. I’m sleepy.” I was about to refute her statement when she gave a huge yawn.

  “Damn, Manus is hittin’ like that?” Ava asked with a laugh.

  Michele shrugged, then nodded. “All day, err day.” She laughed exhaustedly. “Besides, my ass can’t drink no more anyway.”

  I snorted. “Why? Did he put you on restriction or something?”

  Michele shook her head and sighed deeply, before sitting down in the grass at my feet. “No. I think his big Irish ass knocked me up.”

  “WHAT?”

  “THE FUCK?”

  “GIRL!”

  “OH, HELL NO!”

  We all reacted differently to Michele’s announcement, but we all had something to say. Michele waved her hands in the air.

  “I said think, cows, damn. Y’all actin’ like I’m showin’ you sonograms and shit.”

  I shook my head. I had really gotten my girls into some fuckery by taking up with Andrew. Damn. I could only hope it worked out for the best for all of us, otherwise my girls might be coming for me with blades, guns, knives, and bats.

  Speak of the devil and he will appear.

  “Hello ladies,” Andrew said with a grin as he walked up with an older man. “It was very nice to meet you all. Thank you for coming out.”

  And like that, all of my girlfriends who had only minutes before been all Destiny’s Child’s “Independent Women” © became Britney Spears’ “Slave 4 U” ©, drooling all over my man.

  Like Michele called them… cows.

  “This is my uncle, Lennon. Uncle Lennon this is Michele, Olivia, Charlotte, Ava, Mia, Victoria, and my woman, Kyra. You’ve met all the others. The only one you haven’t met is Harper,” Andrew introduced us.

  “She’s the feisty one who Galvin was chasing after?” Uncle Lennon asked.

  Andrew chuckled. “That’s the one.”

  Uncle Lennon nodded, then turned his gaze back to me, and almost instantly I felt uncomfortable. I offered him a hesitant smile and allowed him to take my hand in his, placing a kiss on the back of it that lasted just a little too long.

  I cleared my throat. “It’s um… nice to meet you Mr. McCarthy,” I said, catching Michele and Mia’s eyes. They were M & M as well, but for a totally different reason. They were my hard hitters. Some thought Mia wouldn’t be associated with people like us since she was a minister, but she always laughed at them.

  “I’m the perfect murderer. I can kill them, then pray for their souls right after.”

  I wasn’t sure if Andrew was aware of his uncle’s creepiness, but I should have had more faith in my man, he yanked my hand away from the older man, then stood in front of me.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, old man?” he snarled.

  “Oh come on, Andrew,” Uncle Lennon laughed. “You can’t be serious! Her? I mean, I get why you want to fuck her. Hell, I even get why Seamus decided to watch her in the shower, but you want to make her your woman? Your wife? The mother of your children? What the fuck for? We never did before. We’d just fuck ‘em until we got sick of ‘em then we’d marry someone more respectable.” He shook his head. “Don’t be like your brother, Galvin. There’s a reason your father sent him away when he was in high school. Bad enough he adopted Niamh, but at least she was raised apart from the rest of ‘em. Got more Irish in her than she does that filthy African shit. No, Galvin had to be sent on back to Ireland to get his head on straight. We don’t marry the darkies. We fuck ‘em and kill ‘em.”

  Oh.

  Fuck.

  No.

  He.

  Didn’t.

  I was already pulling off my jewelry and pulling my hair up into a bun at the back of my head halfway through Lennon-the Limp Dick Fuck’s speech. I was going to fuck this douchebag up. My girls were apparently of the same mind. I saw purses hitting the ground, shoes coming off, and so much more. Oh yeah, we were about to water the grass with the blood of Andrew’s racist fucking uncle.

  “D-Drew?” Nia’s voice was filled with tears and that, more than anything, snapped him out of the fog I believe his uncle’s words had sent him into.

  “Fuck. You.” Andrew’s words were soft, but powerful. Dangerous. Deadly. And they reverberated around the massive yard.

  And without another sound, Andrew raised his hands, both of them holding his beloved Desert Eagle™ guns—where the fuck had he gotten those and when? —and pointing them at his uncle, began firing. He didn’t move except to stand over the man and making sure to shoot the man in his head. The click-click of the empty magazines of Andrew’s guns was all that were left, echoing loudly in the air. No one moved. No one said a word.

  Until Nia ran across the yard, over her dead uncle’s body, and launched herself at her eldest brother.

  “Thank you, Drew. Thank you.”

  And once again, I knew, without being told, that there was so much more Nia needed to tell Andrew. And for once, I wished I could bring someone back to life…

  Just so I could kill that fucking bastard again.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Andrew- The Irishman

  I sat back in my seat, staring at the picture of my father, Cassidy, my uncles: Lennon, Phelan, Roarke, Knox, Sloan and Sullivan—the twins, and their sisters, my aunts: Adeline, Darina, Esther, and Hadley and Hayley—the twins. They were all smiling at the camera, arms around each other. Standing in front of the family home in Ireland, I never would have expected any of them to be capable of thinking, much less saying, the things my uncle Lennon had said.

  What the fuck had I missed?

  The door of my office opened, and I turned, ready to shoot whomever it was, only to sigh when I saw it was Kyra. I put the picture frame back down on the desk and gave Kyra a small smile.

  “Did everyone leave?” I asked, exhaustion lacing my words.

  She laughed. “Well, you did sort of put a damper on things when you fucking killed your uncle, babe. But no, everyone didn’t leave. Our core group stayed.”

  I slammed my fist down on the table. “What should I have done, Kyra? Not kill the man? He fucking disrespected you!” I stood up from my chair so fast, it rolled backwards and slammed into the window, breaking some of the glass. “He insulted my sister! The prick sent my brother, Galvin, away when he was in high school because Galvin came and told the family he wanted to marry a black girl!”

  Kyra gasped and the sound of “oh shit” filtered into the office from outside. She rolled her eyes and marched over to the window.

  “None of y’all bitches betta not say shit diddly to Harper either! Let grown folks handle their own business,” she yelled.

  “Damn, K-Love,” Michele shouted back, using my personal nickname for Kyra to tease her
. “Why you always stoppin’ us from having fun?”

  “Manus!” Kyra yelled.

  “On it!” Manus returned in a loud voice, and I could hear giggling and laughter flood the air moments later.

  “Now,” Kyra brushed her hands together and turned towards me. “As for you. Do you feel better now?” She gestured around the room. “Does this make you feel good? You killed your uncle, and yeah, dude was a prick, and he deserved to have two slugs to the back of the head, but you didn’t need to do it in front of everyone. And now what… you’re in here, stomping, ranting, and raving, breaking fucking windows and shit, for what? He’s dead, Andrew. I’m okay, Nia’s okay. And if you want to kill racists? Start in our government first, then work your way down, otherwise, suck in your gahtdamn lip and be a fucking man.”

  I frowned and squared my shoulders. “I am a fucking man, Kyra. I just shot…”

  “You shot an old man with no power. A man no one even listened to, from what I’ve heard.” Kyra sighed and walked up to me, pressing her body against me. Almost instantly peace settled into my bones. I moaned and sank into her embrace as she ran her fingers through my hair. “Listen to me carefully, Andrew. Are you listening?”

  “Hmm? What? Oh. Yeah. Mmmhhmm. Sure. I am,” I lied. I was sinking into her. Drowning in her. Damn. My baby smelled good. She felt good in my arms. She felt good in my life. Her softness cradling the hard planes of my body. Her curves against my straight, jagged lines.

  And though she had darkness in her, one she reveled in, it complemented my own, rather than simply blending and mixing with it.

  I was so glad that my family—most of them anyway—had fallen almost as much in love with her as I had. Kyra was very lovable. And intelligent. And strong.

  And sexy as fuck.

  And now my dick was hard.

  “Andrew! I’m trying to fucking talk to you and you’re humping my leg like you’re a gahtdamn dog,” Kyra laughed and grabbed my face, lifting it from her generous cleavage.