Chapter Twenty-One
In which painful truths are told.
Alec…
The strains of ‘Don’t Cry for Me Argentina’ greeted us as we arrived home, along with the raised voices of our women.
“Ya canna feel how stirring the music is?” Sorcha argued.
“My gods, woman! Do ya hear yourself?” Fee had apparently finished off the very expensive bottle Sorcha had brought me as a peace offering. “Juan and Eva Perón drained the country’s financial reserves while they were swannin’ all over Europe! They sold off the drilling rights to the country’s oil reserves and the Americans trashed the environment and killed the sea life with multiple oil spills. And Andrew Lloyd Webber writes a musical about it?”
“Hush your mouth!” Sorcha gasped.
“Good evening ladies,” I drawled. “Fine art and world history. Such a learned discussion.”
They turned to glare at us. “Dinna say a word!” Sorcha pointed her finger at us. “We were doin’ just fine!”
“We’re in complete agreement,” Fee agreed.
“Of course you are,” Alastair said smoothly. “Allow me to take you home, darling. You can tell me all about it.”
Sorcha and Fee smiled at each other fondly as the Taylors took their leave .
“Complete agreement?” I asked.
Fee picked up their empty glasses, carrying them into the kitchen. “On everything but musicals, it seems,” she agrees dryly. “How did your ‘meeting’ go tonight, then?” She leaned against the kitchen island, watching me closely. It was something I appreciated about her. When Fee had a conversation, her full attention was there, no distractions, no glancing around.
“It was fine,” I replied, loosening my tie.
“That’s all, then? It was fine?”
A sudden surge of fury hit me. Who did this woman think she was? She thought she was entitled to information about the inner workings of a mafia that was founded by my great-grandfather?
Fee saw my eyes narrow, and so did hers. “I'm not asking for a list of known associates and the location of all your secret lairs. I was wanting to know if tonight…” she hesitated, “if you were in danger tonight.”
I wanted a drink. No, I fucking didn’t. Pulling a bottle of water from the giant, industrial fridge, I gave myself a moment to calm down.
“No, there was no danger. We were dealing with an associate we’ve known for years. He did make mention of ‘talk’ about our Leevil revenge spree.”
“Talk?” Her head tilted, “What kind of talk?”
Shrugging, I said, “That could mean anything from ‘Lee Ville is a fucking asshole and he’s getting what he deserves,’ to ‘the Davies Mafia is bringing down too much attention from the civilians.’”
“Something we should be concerning ourselves with, then?”
I gave her a dark smile. “Not yet. He hasn’t suffered enough.”
“That’s what I like to hear!” Fee approved, wrapping her arms around my neck.
Hoisting her to sit on the gleaming marble island, I leaned in, kissing her greedily. “I don’t believe we’ve ever christened the kitchen, have we?”
She howled with laughter, wrapping her legs around my waist. “Magda will set the room ablaze to cleanse it from our filthy doings if we’re caught.”
Sucking her bottom lip into my mouth, I gave it a little bite before murmuring, “I’ll build a new one.”
“Typical wasteful flagrancy from the entitled .0001%” she grumbled, but kissed me back anyway as I shoved her skirt up over her thighs.
Pushing her back with my hand between her breasts, I pulled up a seat, spreading her legs and settling myself between them. She leaned on her elbows, looking down at me with a lazy smile as I discovered that no knickers were hiding her pretty pussy. It was as if she just rang the dinner bell for my cock.
“Oh, you bad girl,” I said approvingly, and dove in.
My thumbs spread her lips wide, already wet for me and the taste of her made me groan. I buried my tongue inside her, holding her hips down with one hand while the other roamed over her lean, taut body. I relearned the shape of her; the curve of her waist, the slope of her ass, and how her breath hitched when two fingers took the place of my tongue inside her, stretching and curling through her slick passage.
“You are so much more likable when your face is buried in me,” she moaned, sliding her hand through my hair, scratching my scalp, fingers tightening when I found just the right spot inside her. “It’s quite the skill.”
“I don’t do this for your pleasure,” I lifted my mouth just enough to be heard, “this is for mine. Be quiet. ”
Her laughter shook us both as I fucked her with three fingers, her heels drumming against my back as I added another. I lapped at her clit the way I had with dessert that night at the restaurant, but the taste of her was even better, so much better. When I looked up, she was still staring down at me, mouth open in short, sharp gasps of breath and a lovely pink flush on her pale skin.
I moved my fingers faster inside her, loving the slick feel of her and when I lightly bit her clit and tugged on it, my Fee threw her head back and wailed delightedly to the ceiling, every muscle clenched tight as she rode out her orgasm. As the last waves washed over her, I ripped my pants open and thrust inside her, feeling the ripples of her cunt along my cock.
Her hand grabbed my tie, pulling me down to kiss her, lifting her pelvis to bring me deeper inside her and finally, when she screamed her second orgasm into my mouth, I came with her. Come surged from my cock so hard that a flash of white nearly blinded me and I staggered back, still inside her and we both tumbled to the floor, connected.
“Do you think Magda will know we defiled her kitchen?”
Fee was still on top of me, this time in my enormous bathtub in the master bathroom. I’d had it custom built and it was the only one I’d ever had where I could fully stretch my legs out. Her face was buried in the space between my neck and shoulder, so the question was a bit muffled.
“Other than Holy Water, there’s nothing else that we didn’t use to clean the counter.” I kissed the top of her gleaming hair. “But yes, she will still somehow know, and for the rest of the week, she will clutch her crucifix every time she sees us with a perpetual expression of general disappointment in the human race.”
“Then our job here is done,” she chuckled.
We sat in silence for a moment, her hand idly switching through the water.
“Tell me something, Godking.”
Looking down at her, I raised a brow. “I do hope you don’t plan on using that as a permanent form of address for me.”
“No promises.” Sitting up and straddling me, she asked, “Tell me why Sorcha has your green eyes and Cormac MacTavish called you brother?”
Ice pours into my veins and the soft spot Fee had carved out in my heart froze over again. Lifting her off me, I stepped out of the tub, wrapped a towel around my waist, and handed her one without looking at her.
“It’s nothing.”
“Not good enough!” she called after me as I left the bathroom.
Pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace in my bedroom, I gritted my teeth. Why did that infuriating woman insist on poking and prodding where she wasn’t welcome? I’d saved her family, even after she tried to kidnap me. Wasn’t that enough? She was entitled to nothing from me!
When I turned, Fee was settled on the bed in my robe, watching me calmly.
“My father was murdered when I was eight. Thirty years ago.” The words flew out of my mouth without any permission from my common sense. “I spent decades searching for the man who did it. It was Cormac MacTavish Senior, former Chieftain of the Clan MacTavish Mafia. The stupid bastard was young and drunk, stealing something on a dare to impress his girl, a necklace. My father walked in on him. MacTavish swore to me that the shooting was an accident.”
I turned, looking out my windows onto the silent street. “When his daughter Sorcha was kidnapped and put up for auction for a group of men who all hated the MacTavish Mafia, Alastair bought her. For a rather spectacular sum of one hundred million pounds.” There was a sharp intake of breath from Fee, but she remained silent. “He intended to use her for revenge for my father and reasons of his own, but the soft son of a bitch caved. He fell in love with her. In love, as if he was fifteen and not thirty-six.
“I took her one night. Holding her as bait for her father to come to me. He did, ready to give his life for hers. My mother Caroline stopped me. I had my fucking gun out I was ready to blow that bastard’s head off his shoulders and she stopped me. Do you know what she said to me?”
Fee’s eyes were slightly glossy, but there was no pity there. She knew better.
“MacTavish and my mother had an affair shortly before she married my father. Apparently, he never knew that…”
I ran my hands through my hair, over and over.
“MacTavish sired me, that worthless prick. Not my father. My mother never told either of them. She said that my birth made my father a better man, a more loving one. MacTavish Senior walked right into my gun that night, pressing it to his forehead and told me to shoot him if that would make it right for me. All the while, Alastair, Sorcha, my mother begging me to stop. I… couldn’t do it, so I threw everyone out.
“But oh, the fucking irony that MacTavish killed my true father and now I’m faced with these presumptuous bastards thinking we’re family!” I spat.
“I lost my father to them. I lost Alastair, the man I considered a brother. Yet still, they pop up like poisonous toadstools, expecting me to welcome them with open arms.”
There was silence, just the sharp rasp of my breath as I stared out the window. In the reflection of the glass, I watched Fee approach me, cautiously winding her arms around me and pressing her cheek to my back.
“My name is Fiadh. You never would have figured that one out.”
Something unclenched enough in my chest to release a laugh.