Chapter 12
LUCY
“Knock knock.”
I can do this. I will do this. I will do him.
Arranging the bubbles so I’m covered, I take a big swig from the prosecco as I will my heart to calm down. “Come in.”
“Jesus feckin’ Christ.” Mike’s head peeks out from behind the bathroom door. “Can I join you?”
“Sure,” I say with confidence I don’t feel.
I’ve always been a bigger girl. My curves were my favorite part of my body, and I still love that part of myself.
Most days. But the way motherhood has changed my shape has left me frustrated more often lately.
Now my ass is bigger, and it makes finding jeans harder than ever, so I live in leggings.
I’m used to my thick thighs, but the added stretch marks and cellulite have made me feel self-conscious about wearing shorts.
The tummy pooch that won’t go away has been an annoying addition.
And the way my breasts hang after breastfeeding two children leaves me more insecure than ever.
Also, why doesn’t anyone prepare you for the boob sweat?
It never used to be this bad or stink this much.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my body, especially now that I’ve seen what it’s capable of, but there are some days I wish I could go back to my pre-baby figure.
It’s not about being skinny; I’ve never really wanted that.
I just wish I had enjoyed the body that I had before kids.
I feel like I never truly appreciated it.
But seeing the way Mike’s eyes light up when he looks at me, I feel like my old self again.
I feel proud of my body and the way it excites him.
I’d never felt more beautiful than I did when I was on my knees for him in the firehouse.
The way he looked at me… well, let’s just say that I want more of that.
He walks over to the tub, and I nearly swallow my tongue when I realize what he’s wearing.
I take him in from head to toe. “Is that your Mr. March outfit from the calendar?” He’s shirtless with a pair of pants that look like part of his fire uniform and black boots. Instead of a belt, red suspenders hold up his pants, and it takes everything in me not to snap them against his chest.
“Aye. Your list mentioned wanting to sleep with a guy with an accent. Mr. March, I believe?”
“Is that why your accent is thicker than normal?”
“’Tis. Dusted off me brogue just for you, lass.” He takes a step closer to me, shrugging one strap off his shoulder. “This okay?”
I nod and watch in wonder as he strips all the way down and revel in the way he’s already hard. “Is that because of me?” I ask, looking directly at his dick.
“Aye. It’s always because of you lately,” he says as he approaches the side of the tub. “Scoot forward so I can sit behind ya.”
I follow his command, and once he joins me in the water, I lean back against his chest. His erection presses against my ass.
“Can I ask you a question?” I like the fact that I can’t look at his face right now.
“You can ask me anything.”
“Why were you making fart noises on my kids’ iPad?”
He chuckles and wraps his arms around my waist. “They called me.”
I drop my head back against his chest and groan in frustration. “Ugh, I’m sorry. They must’ve been mashing buttons on the screen. I really need to get Bella’s son to fix that. He’s a coding genius.”
“S’ok. Was wrapping up my shift and I thought it was you. Levi started talking about poop and farts, so I just played along.”
I smile, thinking about the little stinker. As much as their antics annoy me sometimes, I miss them when they’re away. “Sounds like Levi.”
“It made them laugh, which made me feel good.” His arms tighten around my middle, and I try to relax against him. “Can I make you feel good?”
I nod, and he snakes a hand between my thighs, rubbing and teasing along my pussy and then parting me as he dips a finger inside. “Fuck, I can’t remember the last time someone touched me like this.”
“I’d like to be the only one you remember doing this to ya.”
His confession lingers in the air. I should say something, shouldn’t lead him on. He’s just helping me with my list. This is only sex. But when his fingers find my clit, all rational thought leaves my brain.
Two fingers pinch my nipple, and I don’t even realize he’d put his hand there until I’m moaning and arching back into him.
“You like that, don’t ya, love?”
He makes slow circles around my clit, and I moan each time he hits a spot that makes my toes tingle. The more he repeats the motion, the louder I get.
“That’s a good girl. So feckin’ good for me. Your body’s tellin’ me exactly what ya need. Are ye gonna come for me?”
Oh shit, I am. How did he do that?
He moves his fingers back to the exact spot that made me moan the loudest. As he lavishes attention to my clit, I squirm and buck my hips, gripping on to the side of the tub as my orgasm crashes into me. “Oh God! Mike. Fuck. Oh fuck.”
“Feckin’ hell, I really enjoy hearing my name come out of your mouth like that when ya come.” He wraps both of his arms around my middle and grinds his cock against me. “I need to fuck ya.”
I nod my head rapidly against his chest. “I want that.”
He stands and reaches for a towel. I do my best to shield myself as I stand from the bubbles and wrap the towel around me, while he helps me out of the tub.
“You have another one of these?” He tugs on the end of the towel.
I’ve lived alone for so long that I’m used to just having one towel on the rack, and I hurry over to the linen closet to grab another one.
Fuck my luck. Where are all the clean towels?
I dig through, finally finding a kid’s towel.
It has a hood with Daniel Tiger’s face and is comically small compared to his big body. “Here.”
He chuckles and then dries off quickly, hanging the towel on the rack and tugging me into my bedroom. I clutch my towel against my chest, suddenly nervous that I don’t have the bubbles for camouflage.
I walk over to my dresser and grab a T-shirt, slipping it on over the towel before letting it drop to the floor.
If he’s disappointed in my attire, he doesn’t show it as he comes up behind me and drags his hands along my outer thighs and up to my hips, dipping just slightly under my shirt.
He places kisses along my collarbone as goosebumps spread across my skin under his touch. “Do you have a condom?” I rasp.
“Aye. Get on the bed.” He bends down to grab my towel and pops me on the ass with it before disappearing into the bathroom. When he emerges, he has a condom tucked between two fingers, and I marvel at the way he deftly rips it open with his teeth and rolls it on.
I shimmy up the bed, tugging at the bottom of my shirt to make sure it doesn’t roll up too much.
The bed dips under his weight as he climbs over and settles between my thighs.
I gasp when he bends down and places his head between my legs.
The first caress of his tongue feels divine.
The second has me panting. And when he pushes two fingers into my pussy, pulling my clit into his mouth at the same time, I can’t stop the moan that escapes me.
“I knew I could make you scream for me,” he says between flicks of his tongue. I grip his head to keep him in place as that familiar tingle starts to build.
Just as I’m about to crest over that waterfall and plunge into the depths of pleasure, he pulls back, his face glistening with my arousal. “The next time you come, it will be on my cock. Is that clear?”
“Then hurry up and fuck me.”
Did I really just say that? What the hell has gotten into me?
Mike sits up as he grips the base of his cock in one hand. The firefighter in his tattoo dances as his forearm flexes with his movements. He teases my opening with his tip. Just when I think I can’t stand it anymore, he pushes in and I gasp at the sensation, the fullness.
Holy shit, he’s big.
“It’ll fit,” he says, reading my mind.
I grab his arms, desperate to touch his tattoo, needing to ground myself as I claw my nails into his skin while he slowly moves his hips in and out. It feels unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, not just his size, but the additional sensations his piercings add as they rub against my inner walls.
“So fucking tight, a chroí. You're squeezing me so feckin’ tight. So good.” He looks down at me with such longing, keeping his pace slow and tender like he’s making love to me. I panic, desperate to break the gravity of the moment and remind him what this arrangement is.
“Don’t go easy on me. I’m not as breakable as you think I am.”
“Never thought you were, love.”
“If you want to fuck me again, you’re going to have to give me more than that.”
Something flashes in his eyes, a kind of desperation, and I know in that moment that I’ve fucked up. This man is going to ruin me for all other men.
“I’m not capable of holding anything back when it comes to ya. All you have to do is ask for something and it’s yours.”
He grabs my thighs and pulls me flush with him, holding me in place as my legs rest on his forearms. The new angle has my ass in the air, and I feel every barbell as he pistons in and out.
I reach back, bracing my hands on the headboard as he fucks me relentlessly. When his eyes move to the hem of my shirt, I look down and notice it’s ridden up, exposing the roll under my belly button. Nervously, I watch as it jiggles with every movement he makes.
He notices my attention shift and pauses his hips, forcing me to look at him. “So feckin’ perfect,” he growls. “Every inch of ya.” He resumes fucking me with more force. “Every”—thrust—“fucking”—thrust—“inch”—thrust—“of”—thrust—“ya.”
My eyes roll back in my head as I get lost in every inch of him. Sex has never felt this good before. It’s the piercings. That’s all it is. Or his thick veiny cock. That’s it. It could be the way he makes me feel too. Nope. Just focus on the dick. Not the feelings he’s evoking. This is just sex.
Mike pulls out of me, flipping me over on the bed as he grabs my hips and pulls my ass in the air.
The move takes me by surprise at how easily he’s able to manhandle me.
I should push up on my arms and work with him, but I lie there boneless, ass up.
He slides his hands into the crease where my hip roll meets the meat of my thigh, holding me in place as he fucks me like he hates me, but his words are anything but.
“This is my favorite part of ya. So round and perfect. You’re a sight like this for me. Feckin’ beautiful.”
I can’t begin to imagine how jiggly I must look from behind, but I push the thought from my head as his hands continue to roam over my entire backside, mapping it out like he wants to memorize every curve and dimple.
His piercings feel different in this position, rubbing against my G-spot, and it doesn’t take long before I feel my orgasm building.
“I’m going to… Mike, fuck. Oh fuck, I’m—” I’m unable to finish the thought as waves of pleasure crash into my body, drowning me with an intensity I’ve never felt before.
“Tá mo chroí istigh ionat,” he rasps as his hips still and his cock swells inside me.
As soon as he pulls out, my lower half collapses. I feel him climb off the bed, probably to dispose of the condom, but I can’t move.
When he comes back in the room, he’s fully dressed in his ridiculous calendar outfit. A tiny part of me is disappointed but I’m not sure why.
He leans over the bed and kisses the side of my forehead. “Get some rest before those mischievous little sprites return. You earned it.”
“You’re really playing into the whole Irish bit, huh?” I lean up on my arm as he talks.
“It’s only a couple weeks till St. Paddy’s. It’s like Christmas to the Emerald Isle.”
“Is it?”
He chuckles. “I don’t know how to compare it, actually. It’s a deeply religious affair to my folks. We head to Mass, have a big feast, and spend time together as a family. Similar to what some might do at Christmas. But there’s no caroling or magical being bringing gifts.”
“The leprechauns don’t leave you a pot of gold if you’ve been a good boy?”
“They don’t. The leprechaun originally was a derogatory symbol created to disparage the Irish. Americans have made it their mascot for the holiday, but a lot of Irish people take offense to it.”
Shit. How do I keep putting my foot in my mouth with this man? “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that. I hope I didn’t offend you.”
“Nope. It doesn’t bother me or my Ma, but my Da… it does his head in sometimes.”
“Does his head in?”
“It fires him up. He’s been known to get into a pisser about it.”
“Ah, got it.” I push up on the bed, sitting as he continues.
“And we don’t dye large bodies of water green, or dye our beer, or even wear green for that matter. That’s more of an American thing.”
“You’re gonna get your ass pinched if you don’t wear green on that day around here.”
“Trust me, I’ve learned that lesson. I was born in Ireland and moved to Boston in high school before we ended up in Chestnut Mountain.
So I’ve seen many different ways to celebrate the holiday, and I honestly like the quietness of it here.
I don’t need a big parade, just time with my family and friends. And some Irish stew.”
He strokes my cheek, and I lean into his hand as he kisses the top of my head. “Now get some rest with what little time you have left.”
“Where are you going?” Did that sound as needy out loud as it did in my head?
If it did, Mike doesn’t let on as he walks to the door. “Headed to the store. Gotta pick up everything I need for tonight.”
“What’s tonight?”
He turns and grips the doorframe, leaning on it like one of those thirst trap book boyfriends on social media. “Our date.”