15. Amy
Amy
If I didn’t know any better, I’d wonder if Kerry is trying to kill me. Death by sex. Murder by cock. But god, it’s delicious. A death I’d gladly receive. It’s a lot better than the death I’d been worried about for the past couple of weeks.
The pillow beneath me is wet. I barely have the wherewithal to know from what. Tears? Drool? Snot? All of the above? He’s wrung me out, and he’s not done yet.
I think I’m up to five orgasms total. I’ve kinda lost count.
But I’m aware that Kerry hasn’t come yet.
He’s flipped me around and changed positions, making sure I’m always comfortable and not locked in one position for too long.
It never takes long before he’s working me up to climax again.
Fuck, he’s good at this. He’s on top of me from behind, fisting my hair into a ponytail, thrusting into me like he’s been dreaming of this for years.
Maybe I didn’t believe him about it until now. But this? This feels like the kind of sex that can only come from the obsession he keeps telling me he feels for me.
His words from when he first slid in—hot and hard and dear gods above, throbbing—are still rattling around in my head.
My wife, he said. Like it was a dream come true.
Awe and wonder dripping from his tone. It’s a gift, like a vow, like something torn open from the depths of his chest and given to me.
Kerry’s grunts and guttural moans are getting louder.
I can tell he’s not going to be able to hold on for much longer.
Honestly, I think he deserves a medal for how long he’s been going as it is.
His hand snakes around my hip to go between my thighs, rubbing my clit as his cock keeps sliding in and out of me.
It’s bliss, even if it’s much harder to wring out that pleasure from me by now.
“One more,” he groans in my ear. “I know you can do it for me, leannán. Give me another. Just one more, can’t you do that for me, pretty girl? ”
My entire body shudders, limbs numb and shaking from the exertion. I gasp out, gritting my teeth as he builds up another orgasm in me. I’m not sure where it comes from or how he’s doing it. I didn’t think it was possible. “Y-Yes.”
“That’s it,” Kerry coos, grunting and kissing down my neck. “Give it to me. You’re doing so well. Fuck, squeezing my cock just like that.”
My hands dig into the sheets as I give a weak cry, a small orgasm making me flutter around him.
Kerry lets out a pained moan. “Fuck, fuck, yes, Amy.” I can feel his rhythm stutter and his cock swell. He lets out a long moan as he pushes into me one last time and fills the condom.
He waits there a moment, but my legs give out and I collapse.
Kerry chuckles and rubs a hand up and down my back, catching his breath, before he pulls out and takes care of the condom in the bathroom.
I hear water running, but my brain is too mushy to think much of it.
So, when he returns a moment later and scoops me up, I feel disoriented and confused. “What are you doing?”
“Taking care of my girl,” he replies simply, as if that answers everything.
I grunt and rub my eyes. If I thought I was tired before, this is a whole new level of it.
But I don’t regret it in the slightest. My body is still buzzing with pleasure, and I feel lighter, like I’m floating on a cloud instead of in his arms. Actually, scratch that, his arms are probably more comfortable.
His display of desire and all-consuming need for me washed away any fears I had about not being good enough in bed. Clearly, he doesn’t need me to be a seductive lover. He’s plenty seduced by me just as I am, my natural reactions far more arousing to him than anything I could force.
That’s not only a relief, but it’s just another thing that makes him even more attractive.
The rushing of water is even louder actually in the bathroom. I realize he’s drawn a bath for me, or perhaps us. Either way, I’m grateful for it. It sounds lovely to have my muscles relaxed by hot water.
He sets me down on wobbly legs for a moment as he tests the water, and then picks me up again. The way he sets me down reminds me of a mother putting down her infant who’s sleeping, not wanting to wake them. I chuckle. “I’m not fragile, Kerry.”
He smooths a hand down my hair, brows pinched together. Those stormy gray eyes search my face. “I was rough with you. It’s only fair that I’m gentle in taking care of you now. Are you hurt?”
I shake my head. “A little sore, but not too bad. It was wonderful. I like being ravished by you.”
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that he blushed at that. But that ever-familiar smirk is back on his lips, too, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Good. Because I like ravishing you, love.”
He steps in, answering my earlier question.
It’s definitely for us. I scoot forward, making room for him.
He sits behind me, his large, warm hands sliding over my shoulders as he pulls my back to his chest. He sighs like he’s been holding his breath, waiting for this.
For me. I relax against him at the intimacy of that thought.
“My mother wrote a book about fairies once,” Kerry’s voice is gruff, the scratch of vulnerability present, like it physically hurt him to say these words.
The statement feels out of the blue, and I don’t know why it sounds so hard for him to say, or why he’s saying it.
I think back over the past few minutes, looking for any sort of clue as to what he’s talking about, but I come back with nothing.
A heavy silence follows his words as I try to figure out what to say to that, and he lets the conversation fall.
His arms tighten around me for a moment. “I’d like to read them to you sometime.”
Oh. Is that it? Maybe there wasn’t anything I was “supposed” to say after all.
“Okay. I’d love that.” And it’s true, I would.
I’d love to hear more about what matters to him, to have that kind of intimacy.
He hasn’t talked about his mother much, but I get the sense that he holds her close to his heart.
I suddenly want to know all about her, every memory he has of her.
His hand rubs up and down my back, the warmth of belonging kindling in my chest. “That’s why I call you leannán. That’s the name of the main fairy in it.”
I still. He’s given me nothing about that nickname when I’ve asked before, made it sound like it was just a common term of endearment. But there’s been a story behind it all along? Why is he telling me about this now?
“It is?”
“Yes.” I’ve never heard his voice so soft before. It’s quiet, like he’s almost shy about admitting this.
I pause for a moment, trying to come up with a reply as I process this revelation. He’s been calling me the name of a fairy. From a story that his mother wrote. It’s obviously something that means a lot to him, so the fact he’s been calling me that practically since we met is baffling to me.
I guess I just never really understood how much his emotions were tangled up in his obsession with me.
He’s always come across as this cold, detached mafia man in my mind, even as he’s been tender and sweet with me.
Is it because he’s actually been unemotional with me?
Partially, perhaps. But I also think it’s because of how I’ve viewed him, which may not be wholly true.
I’ve been looking at him through the lens of my grandfather and what little I know of the mafia world.
Well, maybe not entirely. My own experiences with him have been sneaking in, and maybe that’s why I’m here in Ireland with him.
It’s why I’ve come to trust him. The way my brain works often has me questioning everything, trusting my own experiences rather than what I’ve been told.
And maybe that’s worked well for me in this situation, as it has in many others.
I turn to look at Kerry, and his gray eyes are soft as his gaze meets mine. “What does it mean to you?” My voice is quiet, almost scared to ask.
“It means everything.” His voice is equally as soft and fragile as mine. Perhaps even more so.
I tilt my head, studying him as the warm water of the bath chases away any chill I might feel from the cold air. “Everything?”
He nods, and it almost feels like he’s promising me the world. “Yes. Everything.”
I turn back around and lean against his chest. “Can you tell me the story now?”
He pauses for a moment. I know this because I can feel him take a deep breath and then hold it as he thinks, and then lets it out slowly. “Yes. But I’d also like to show you her actual writings and drawings of the story, too.”
I smile as I feel the warmth of his skin behind me, somehow even warmer than the hot bath water surrounding us. “Okay. I’d like that a lot.”
He only hesitates for a moment more before he begins to tell me the story from memory.
It’s a sad tale at times, a tale of two fairies from opposite elements, light and dark, who fall in love.
But their own biology makes it impossible for them to be together.
It’s a star-crossed lovers tale, like Romeo and Juliet but make it about fairies.
I can see why he was enraptured with it as a child, but what I can’t fully understand is why he views me as this magical fairy of light.
Maybe I can understand why he views himself as a fairy of darkness, considering what he does for a living and all, but me?
A being of goodness and light? It doesn’t quite add up with my view of myself.
Still, the story is beautiful, and I find myself with tears in my eyes by the end of it, when the two fairies decide to use magic to change themselves to be able to be with one another only during equinoxes.
And on those nights, they dance, the light and darkness merging until they are a waltz of shadows.
His arms get tighter around me as the story goes on. By the time the water is cold around us, I feel like I've gained an insight into Kerry as a person and how he views me. The thing is, I’m just not sure if he’s right or not.
Still, I like the thought of the point of the story being applied to our relationship. That two people coming from such opposite worlds could find peace and love together, even in their differences.
I can only hope the same can be said for us.
Once Kerry is finished telling the story, we’re quiet as we get up and dry off, going through the motions of getting ready for bed.
I don’t mind the silence. It feels comfortable and safe, especially with everything I have going on in my head.
It’s been a long day full of information, most of it pretty emotional.
Kerry disappears for a few minutes and comes back to brush his teeth.
When I make my way out into the bedroom, I find the bed freshly made, fitted with clean sheets.
I can’t help but smile at the sight. It’s a considerate thing to do.
It’s possible he didn’t want to sleep on that himself, which I can’t blame him for, but even so, it’s remarkable to me.
I was raised with men who refused to lift a finger with things like this, housework and the like. But Kerry didn’t even hesitate.
I shouldn’t be surprised that Marjorie raised him well. And I should take into consideration the sort of standard that’s been set for me by my father and grandfather. It’s a shitty expectation of men to have, but it’s not something I really even questioned until recently. Until him.
I get changed into my pajamas and then crawl into bed, scrolling on my phone for a bit.
My family hasn’t seemed to recognize that I’m…
well, not in the United States anymore. They haven’t texted me at all, probably because they think I don’t have access to it.
Kerry hasn’t mentioned anything, but I suspect they’re still trying to arrange a trade-off with him and he’s being difficult on purpose just to stall them finding out.
Kerry comes out a few minutes into me watching funny cat videos, and I catch the smile that lifts his face when he sees me in his bed. He crawls in beside me, just wearing his briefs, and puts his head on my shoulder. “What are you watching, leannán?”
I turn my phone to show him instead of answering.
He chuckles and kisses my cheek, lips gliding across my skin to reach my ear. “You should sleep. I know you’re tired.”
He’s right. I know he is. But the allure of the doom scroll is strong. “Mm. I will soon.”
He lets me have a few more minutes, even watching the videos with me. But when it’s clear that nothing much is changing, he sighs and presses the power button on my phone. “Sleep.” He pecks my lips and arches a brow, as if daring me to challenge him.
I raise my eyebrows. “Bossy.”
He laughs and turns over, turning off the light on his nightstand, leaving the room only illuminated by my lamp. “Yes. Something you’ll do well to remember, lovely leannán.”