by Henry, Jane
“Aileen. Open the door!” I pound it harder. Her singing stops.
“Who is it?”
Who is it? Is she pulling my chain?
“It’s Cormac!”
“I’m occupied, Cormac. Taking a shower.”
I take in a deep breath to steady my nerves. “Open. The. Door.”
“In a minute.”
“Fucking now!”
Her footsteps approach the door, and I hear a click of locks, before the door swings open. She’s dripping water all onto the floor, a towel pulled haphazardly about her. Her long, blonde hair hangs in unruly, damp waves.
“Well, you don’t have to shout.”
I step in the room. “Seems I do. Knocking politely hardly helped.”
“What do you have your knickers all in a wad over?”
I growl, prowling toward her, and she quickly drops her towel and hops back into the stream of hot water.
“Cormac, you don’t have to—eek! My goodness, you still have your clothes on!”
I don’t bother to strip, but step straight into the shower with her.
“Doctor said you could be dizzy,” I tell her. “Said to be sure you don’t shower without help.”
“I’m fine.”
I slap her wet arse. “You’re not fine until I tell you you are.”
“My God, I married a Neanderthal,” she laments to the ceiling.
“Damn right you did. Now give that here.” I gesture for the bar of soap beside her. Frowning, she obeys. I lather her up, and as much as I want to be pragmatic about this, I can’t help it. My dick hardens against my sodden jeans, while arousal coils in my belly.
I rinse her back and between her legs. Only days ago, I did this for the first time. But then, it was different. I knew who I was. I thought I was at least beginning to know who she was.
When I lather between her legs, she parts them and moans. God, I want to eat her out right here, right now. Sebastian says to do things that trigger memories. I’d be happy to try that.
I hold myself back, mustering all my self-control. I have to ease back into things with her.
“Ok, out you go, lass,” I say, stepping out of the shower. I towel her off, then have her sit on the toilet while I strip my own soaking wet clothes off. When I toss them to the hamper, she shakes her head.
“I did not remember how fucking hot you were,” she says. “Must admit that.”
I give her a smile. She’s still the same girl, adorable and witty. I drape a towel around my waist and lead her to bed.
“Cormac?” she asks. For a moment, the subdued little girl who woke earlier returns.
“Mm?”
“Did we… if I’m your wife, do we… do we like having sex? Do we have it often?” She’s pink to the tip of her nose.
Christ. She doesn’t remember. She can’t recall the way I fucked her on our wedding night. How she asked me to make her bleed. How I fucking did.
I have another chance.
“Of course.” I towel off and don’t meet her eyes.
“Was it… was it good?” I turn to face her, stepping into a pair of boxers. She’s eyeing me warily, then her eyes dip to my cock. She purses her lips.
“Of course it was good,” I say. “You think I’m going to let you take a stab at my manliness?”
She laughs.
“Honestly, though,” I tell her. “It was your first time. I took your virginity.”
Her eyes wide. “Ohhh.” Then she bites her lip and her eyes roam over my damp body. “Want to help me remember what it’s like?”
Christ, do I want to. So badly, my dick aches to be inside her.
“Tonight, we take it easy, lass.”
She frowns but finally nods. “Alright, then.”
I lead her to bed and lay beside her. My mind churns with questions that need answers, but she has questions of her own as well. I answer her questions until she tires of them. I give her her phone and show her how to watch TV. It seems to quiet her a little, to have something mindless to do, while I answer my emails and get some work done.
When I come back to her, the sun’s set low and she’s fallen asleep. Her phone has fallen to the bed, her head tipped to the side. I take her phone and slide it onto the bedside table, then plug it into a charger. I lift the blanket and tuck it in around her, but she opens her eyes and blinks up at me.
With a big yawn, she whispers, “I fell asleep. Seems it takes a lot out of you lying in bed and eating food, hmm?”
I climb in beside her. “Aye. You’re still recovering, lass.”
She closes her eyes and rolls over on her side. I lie beside her, and pull my body up against hers. Her arse nestles easily against my crotch, as if she were meant to lie just like this, right here against me. I wrap my arm around her, holding her to me, and she sighs. Christ, she’s gorgeous, all curves and feminine allure, the scent from her shower wafting over me like magic. I breathe her in, the soft golden waves of her hair tickling my cheek. She’s little, but fierce. She’ll overcome this.
It takes me a moment to realize she’s breathing heavily. She hasn’t fallen asleep. It seems my wife isn’t immune to the power of sexual attraction. My cock stiffens and my balls tighten. I press my erection against her arse, and she pushes back. Encouraging me.
Wordlessly, I move my hand to her breast. Her breath hitches when I cup the weight of it, letting my thumb drag over her nipple. I tease her right over the thin fabric, until she’s panting and trembling. Slowly, so slowly I swear she holds her breath, I lift the top and splay my hand across the soft, naked skin of her belly. I let my thumb graze the swell of her breast a few times before roaming upward. I pinch one hardened nipple between my thumb and finger and she gasps.
I tease her nipple for long minutes, kneading and pulling, first one breast, then the other. The heady scent of her arousal is intoxicating. I imagine her riding me, full breasts on display and those gorgeous eyes of hers half-lidded with arousal and need.
I swallow hard, release her breast, and slowly drag my hand down the length of her belly to her hips. She trembles when I shove the elastic band of her pajamas aside, and slide my fingers downward. Wordlessly, she parts her legs, welcoming me to finger her. I push my hips against her arse, my erection throbbing for release, but I want to ease her back. I want her to trust me. I want to bury the memory of our first night together and replace those memories with good ones.
I kiss her shoulder when I reach for her pussy. She moans. Holding her against me, I stroke my fingers through her slick, swollen folds. She sighs with deep contentment, moving her hips in time with my fingers. In silence, I stroke her pussy, gliding my finger in circles over the little bundle of nerves. Her gasps and moans spur me on. I glide my fingers toward her center. I circle her core before I plunge my fingers in deeper. She gasps when I finger fuck her, her hips writhing. I release her core and return to her clit.
“Come, Aileen,” I breathe in her ear. I stroke harder, faster. She likes to be dominated, so I plant the seed. “Unless you need me to punish you. Do you need to be punished, sweetheart? Should I take my belt to you? Hmm?”
I feel her tremble beneath me, turned on by the thought of being dominated.
“Do I need to tie your wrists, bend you over, and cane your pussy?”
“Oh God,” she whispers, just as she lifts her hips and moans.
“Are you coming for me, sweetheart?”
“Yesssss!”
I stroke her pussy with gentler touches while her hips writhe against my hand and she pants through her release, until she collapses beside me and groans.
“Oh God, that felt so nice,” she whispers, her voice exhausted. “So nice.”
My bollox ache, and there’s a yawning need in me I can’t ignore. I’ll wake with fucking blue balls between my legs, but I’ll deal. I don’t want to ruin this, to push too hard or fast.
She falls asleep, her pretty lips parted, holding my arm to her like I’m a stuffed animal or something.
I don’t want to wake her. I won’t fuck her, not now. Not like this. I’ll ease her into that.
Maybe I’m too gentle, I don’t know, but we go on like this for days. I return to work, and Aileen tours the grounds with Caitlin and mam. She loves little Seamus, and I frequently find her bouncing the baby on her knee, or holding him in a swaddled blanket, singing one of her Irish ditties again.
“It’s good to keep her busy, Cormac,” Sebastian says. “Keep her singing. When she remembers the lyrics of her childhood songs, it’ll help trigger more memories.”
It’s triggering memories I’m afraid of, though. But she needs this.
Every day, she remembers a little something more, it seems, but she remembers little about us. Makes sense, I suppose. There wasn’t much to remember.
Keenan would normally send me on a few jobs, but I insist I won’t be far from Aileen. I stay here for now, nearby in case she needs me. Our guard let me down once. I won’t give them a second chance.
I know I’m treating her with kid gloves, but I can’t seem to help it. I could’ve lost her. I don’t want to risk that again.
I find her on the third day after she’s woken, sitting in the garden on a beautiful spring day. She’s got the baby in her arms, and Caitlin’s braiding her hair.
“Aileen, a word.”
“Just a minute,” she says.
I’ve given her slack these past few days, even after my reminder of who I am and who she is. I’ve teased her with promises of punishment only to arouse her, but in our interactions I let her get away with murder.
Every day, she’s been pushing her limits with her back talk and mouth. Before her injury, I wouldn’t have tolerated that, but now I can’t help but give her some leeway.
“Aileen.”
“I’m right in the middle of something. Not now.”
Caitlin looks at me with wide eyes. She isn’t allowed to speak rudely to Keenan. I know it as well as she does. We’re an old-fashioned clan. We protect and care for our women, but there’s a hierarchy of authority even between the men, and everyone knows their place. She’s forgotten hers.
“Not in a minute,” I tell her. “Now.”
Caitlin finishes plaiting her hair and fastens it with a rubber band.
“There you go,” she says. “Your hair is lovely. Can’t wait to play with it again.” She comes in front of Aileen and takes the baby. “Now, go with Cormac before he gets all angry. You know these McCarthy brothers have no patience.”
She gives me a small smile and a wink. I grunt in return.
Aileen stands up, and to my shock, doesn’t come toward me, but turns and marches away. I look at Caitlin in confusion, but she only shrugs. I stalk after Aileen.
“Where do you think you’re going?” I ask her.
“Away from you.”
What the hell is this?
“Excuse me?” I reach her and grab her arm, spinning her around to look at me. “What the bloody hell are you talking about?”
Her lips purse together. “Not sure why you even want my attention. Don’t you think it best you go on with your men? Hmm?”
“What are you yapping on about?” I say with a frown. “Why do you have a hair across your arse?”
“Hair across my arse?” she says, her pretty eyes flashing at me.
“Watch it, woman,” I warn. “I’ve let you get away with much, but I’ve had it with your smart mouth.”
“Have you?” she says. “You wouldn’t know it, Cormac.”
We reach the bench under the trellis, and the shadows hide her features.
“Sit down, Aileen.” I don’t give her a chance to disobey, but yank her hand until she sits beside me. “Now tell me what’s going on.”
“Fine,” she fumes, her cheeks pink with indignation. “You’ve touched me a few times, but you haven’t done any more than that. I suppose someone barely over being an invalid doesn’t appeal to you, hmm?”
“What?”
“We don’t make love. You don’t talk to me. You do your job and leave me alone, like I’m going to come apart at the seams if you breathe the wrong way.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m stuck in that room or the grounds and I have nothing. No knowledge of who I am. No memory of what I liked, save the little songs that come to me in bits and pieces and drabs of memory, and those memories suck.”
Ahhh.
“Go on.”
She’s going stir crazy. I’ve handled her too gently, and it isn’t helping at all. I’ve given her space and time to heal, and it seems it’s done the opposite.
I vowed I’d give her leniency, and instead she’s lost respect for me.
I kept her on the grounds when she wants to spread her wings a little.
It was a mistake.
Her face colors a little deeper. “And I don’t like being treated like I’m a fragile little creature. That first night… that first night when I woke, you…” she swallows hard, clearly embarrassed, but determined to speak her mind. “You showed yourself as a real man, one I could depend on even if he pissed me off, not this—”
Real man? Now I’ve had it.
“Enough.” She freezes.
“Go back to the room,” I tell her. “And get yourself ready. I’m taking you into town. We’ll go to the shops and get something to eat, and perhaps it’ll help you. When we come home, I have other plans for you.”
Her bright eyes and soft smile tell me I may be on the right track.
I’ve slept beside her for days, so eager to fuck her it’s killing me. She’s right. I’ve treated her like an invalid but Christ, I missed my mark. My girl needs so much more. She’s young and healthy, so her recovery was quick. Physically, anyway.
I stand and take her hand, lifting her to her feet. “Go. And be quick about it.”
I send her off with a sharp crack to her ass that has her squealing, but I swear she leaves with a smile on her face. I dial Keenan.
Chapter 12
Aileen
I’m not exactly sure what happened down in the garden. Sometimes I wonder if I’m right in the head.
I’ve enjoyed my time with Maeve and Caitlin, and we’ve all spent time with Maeve’s niece and Cormac’s cousin, Megan, a beautiful, brass girl who’s instantly friendly and kind. I like them all. And they answer questions honestly when I ask them, not shielding me from the truth. It’s pretty clear that I’ve not known them for long, so fortunately it seems that we’re nearly starting fresh.
I love baby Seamus, and I love the garden. The library holds untold hours of entertainment. They’ve even, in fairly recent months, set up an actual movie theater in their home. Complete with a surround sound stereo system, padded seats, and a large screen with an overhead projector.
But I don’t like being home all the time. And it’s most unsettling because I still don’t know exactly who I am.
The first night I came to, Cormac was dominant to the point of being domineering, bossing me around and promising that I’d learn to obey. And it turned me on. It fucking made me wet. He’s made me climax, and he’s really damn good at it.
But he hasn’t fucked me.
He’s likely bangin’ one off in the shower when he’s able. What’s wrong with me? Is he afraid he’ll break my delicate bones?
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
I know I acted the brat in the garden, and I didn’t quite mean to. I absolutely didn’t. But God, the tender, gentle distance he holds between the two of us pisses me off. If he’s supposed to be my husband, he can grow a pair already, and not treat me like I’m going to dissolve into dust at the merest breath.
I walk up the stairs to the house, and I swear I feel for a moment as if someone’s watching me. I pause, and turn aroun
d, but all I see is the garden behind me, the well-kept lawn that surrounds me, and far off in the distant, the blueish green of the Irish Sea. Birds twitter in the air, and I even hear some of the guard just beyond the entrance to the home. They’re a burly, gruff bunch, that follow us around, ready to swat a damn fly if it comes too close.
I frown, looking around me for evidence to support my gut feeling, but there’s no one. Nothing. It must be in my head.
I turn back to the house, and my stomach suddenly rolls. My mouth waters with nausea. I shake my head, dismissing it. What fresh hell is this? Head injuries are complicated, Sebastian says. I blame it for the nausea and ignore it. Cormac says he’s taking me into town, and I don’t want to miss it.
I enter the house to see several of the men in the entryway. Keenan and Nolan are among them.
“Y’alright, Aileen?” Nolan asks. I nod.
“I’m good, thanks.”
“Have you seen Cormac?”
“Aye, he’s just in the garden. Sent me up here to get ready to go to town.”
Keenan gives me a curious look. “Town?”
“Aye.”
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and mutters to himself. “Missed his call.” He calls him back.
Nolan smiles. “Gettin’ a little stir crazy, are ya?”
I smile at him. Nolan’s my favorite. “Aye, you could say that.”
“Go on, then, if he’s waiting,” Keenan says, his phone still to his ear.
I walk up the stairs toward our bedroom, but hear their voices behind me.
“Could’ve set something up in the garden, no? Need to see if we’re tapped.”
A flash of memory hits me so quickly, it’s nearly physical. I grab the rail to steady myself, allowing the memory to wash over me all at once.
My mother… it’s my mother, I know it… standing in the window of our living room, peeking from beneath a slit in the blinds to the street below our window. “He kissed her. He kissed her, right there on the street where anyone could see.”
“Bloody hell.” My father sits in the corner of the room with a tumbler of whiskey. Who is the “her” they’re talking about? It isn’t me. I’m just a child.