7. Saoirse
Saoirse
The Wolf and the Bull
Iwanted to argue and then I wanted to fight.
Now, I don’t know what I want.
Finn has got me spreadeagled on his tumbled sheets and there’s a look of hunger in his storm-gray eyes.
I dare kiss him back and an immense surge of relief flows through me. It doesn’t fade away, but builds and crests, a wave that won’t quit.
A heavy urgency throbs in my mound. It forces my eyes open and unclaws my fingers so that I know this isn’t a dream.
I love him…. So, I’m going to let him.
The anger leaks out of me as my arousal mounts. His strong hand moves down and he pushes the crotch of my panties to one side. His other hand still pins my arms above my head.
I want to brace my feet against something, but I’m scared of dirtying his sheets with my boots. My feet dangle over the edge of the bed a yard apart from one another.
Only when he’s absolutely sure does Finn release my arms. I’m amazed to find myself hugging him and pulling his grinding hips closer. This is about as close as it gets… I think.
I let him unbutton my dress. He gives a dissatisfied growl when he finds my tank top blocking the access to my breasts.
He can’t rip it off. Like a parcel delivered to the wrong address, I have to go back with my packaging intact.
He kisses my neck, my shoulders, and those parts of my chest he can get to. The wave stops and waits, wanting more.
His rough fingers slide under the crotch of my panties again. He touches my mound and I nearly go through the roof.
The hard bud hiding at the top of my tight slit pouts and surges. A damp gush of warmth slicks my passage.
Finn must feel it, because he moves his fingers down there. Obsessed with my bud as the source of my pleasure, I’ve never paid much attention to my passage other than to line my panties with absorbent material once a month.
But when he replaces his fingers with the helmet of his cock at my entrance, I can’t stop myself from shifting my hips back and away from it.
It feels… monstrous. There’s no way…
He presses himself on me, and he’s heavy, so heavy I can’t sigh or scream or breathe.
But it feels so good when his mouth moves against my neck. “Focus on the bite.”
He bites my earlobe. The violence and pain blinds me for a moment as the flesh yields beneath his teeth.
At the same time, he pushes his cock into me, past a barrier, all the way up into my tight sheath.
I buck and jerk, trying to pull away before I realize I’m screaming. The dying throes of my scream still cling to my throat when I feel Finn emptying himself into me.
It thrills me to know how much pleasure he gets from doing it when I dare look at his face. That’s not pleasure I’m seeing; that’s ecstasy.
Afterward, I’m able to relax. Finn has taken what he wanted. Now there will be no more pain.
He rolls off me and uses the sheet to wipe himself. “When you make yourself happy using your hand, Saoirse, how d’you do it?” He’s still panting from what we did, but I can tell he’s not done.
It’s bit limp and sore I’m feeling, but the shame is gone. He holds me and I snuggle against him.
“That depends. I lie on my back and use my fingers mostly. It… It doesn’t take long.” If it’s dirty talk he’s after, I’m up for that.
I’ve taken him inside me, so now I feel comfortable looking at his body, stroking his broad chest and dragging my fingers down to his washboard stomach. There’s a trail of dark hair that guides my hand down to his manhood.
It’s thick and engorged with veins, too big for me to imagine it inside me. Not at all like a Grecian statue down there, I am shocked to discover.
His cock’s still hard enough to reach high up his belly, and rears like a striking snake when I touch it.
“It’s more that you’re wanting?”
I nod, unsure how to express the vague sensation of dissatisfaction broiling inside me.
Finn helps me out of my clothes tenderly, like I’m bedridden and he must be my nurse. Dress, tank top, and panties all fall to the floor.
He loosens the laces of my boots and lets them fall. Hooks his fingers under my socks and pulls them off.
Then he strips naked. I’m abashed to look, but I’m also aroused by what I see.
Holding my ankles, he sucks my toes. His mouth moves up and he licks behind my knees and the inside of my thighs.
“You’re beautiful, darlin’. I don’t deserve you.”
My slit’s aching for him again, even though I’m still bloody and bruised. I think he knows this, because his mouth moves to my hips and then back to my lips.
“Storí.”
His hand slides down to my thick, black bush. He finds that part of me that controls my bliss and begins to massage around it.
I catch hold of his hand. My mind is made up. “I can’t, Finn. I’m not ready to let down my final defense yet.”
He kisses me, but doesn’t understand. “I’ve taken, so I’ll give.”
I insist. “No. Please. I’m too shy and can’t relax.” He looks at me and I hold his gaze. “I want my first time to be all about you, so I can file it in my memory like that.”
“And when will come the time when I get to make it all about you, Saoirse? That’ll be a memory worth filing, yeah?”
When I try standing up, I can’t. It feels like a freight train just ran up me. Finn jumps off the bed and holds my elbow to stop me collapsing.
“I know you’re meant to be at Mass, but maybe you should catch your breath with me a while? You’re weak as a newborn foal.”
I get a flash of a woman’s lot in life. The emotional and physical brink of the pain we must bear. It scares me.
He holds me up while I slip my clothes back on. His erect cock jerks as his gaze weaves over my body. I check my face in the mirror and the view expands when I see our reflections together.
A girl and a boy captured and frozen in the moment of their blossoming love. Perfect youthful bodies, well-used and tender. Unbroken by time. Unbent by sorrow.
But I can’t linger.
“No. Don’t.” He tries to follow me to the front room, but I won’t let him. “This is something I must process alone.”
“Say it.”
I know what he wants. “I’m yours. I belong to you.”
“She said so,” Finn smiles, “and so it must be done.”
“Does that mean that we’re going together? To Boston?”
He nods and blows me a kiss. I catch it in my hand and pretend to swallow it.
“Goodbye.”
***
I don’t want to face the night alone, but I’m forced to. I avoided looking at the mess I made on Finn’s sheets back at the apartment, but some of it came home with me.
Horrified at the pale pink stain I leaked onto my panties, I balled the white cotton in my fist and pushed it as far down into the compost heap as I could.
The heady funk of decomposition hit me as I withdrew my hand, but the musky, sweaty sex odor was gone.
I don’t scrub in the shower. I wallow in it. My triumph is delicious.
But sleeping alone that night brings back all my fears.
How is Finn O’Shea different from Declan? Both men want to own me, only Finn is more honest about it. And he deals directly with me.
One man is a wolf, let loose in my hen coop to ravage my chickens.
While Declan is more like a bull. He’s definitely built like one. Thick, beefy, and he snorts out of his nostrils when he gets mad.
Compared to Finn, he seems old, but in the full strength of his power for all that.
Declan’s moon waxes as his might rises.
I try to imagine Declan’s stubby fingers probing my black panty-cat, trying to make me miaou, and I have to stuff my fingers in my mouth to stop the laughter.
I’m all in my head, remembering how Finn removed my clothes and kissed me all over. Declan could never be that tender.
I regret nothing. And that’s the worst part. I said “I’m yours” to a boy who used every trick in the book to hunt me down and stalk me.
I surrendered my body and made a promise to a killer who will use it to justify everything he did and plans on doing next. I knew this when I said it.
No taking it back now. “She said so, and so it must be done.” Finn said it first. He claimed me before I agreed.
He frightened me, and when he wasn’t doing that, he was terrifying me instead. It’s a special kind of persecution when the tormentor is so charming and handsome.
None of that matters, because we met halfway, no matter what methods were used to get me there.
But even Finn’s caresses are a weapon he uses to control me. It’s not a gift. He wanted to make me find bliss, but only so he could control the moment, and not me.
It wasn’t making love. It was an argument that turned into a fight and then evolved into fucking.
My memory prods my mind and feeds me the truth.
I want Finn. I can’t wait for the next time we’re alone together. I want to show him my orgasm. Raw. Unfiltered. With a madness to match his own.
That’s the difference between Declan and Finn.
And we both know it.
My grandpa from the old-country would tell Maeve and me stories about his own father’s life. He was one of the undisclosed number of Irish citizens to serve with the British forces during the Second World War.
He was dropped behind enemy lines to spy on the locals. He foraged and hunted to survive on his way back to the border, and he’d seen a wild wolf pack rip the tendons and haunches off the hind leg of a bull left lumbering in the fields.
But it wasn’t my Mam’s great grandpa who’d put the blundering bull out of his misery. It was the alpha wolf.
One snap of its jaws on the bull’s throat and down it went. And that’s what I dream about the night after the day I lost my virginity.