27. Saoirse
Saoirse
Hide The Evidence
Imight be on my knees, but when I look up at Finn I feel transcendent.
I erased his family history with one order. I wiped out his old home with a bulldozer. And he still can’t say no when I offer myself to him.
Like this, I have all the power.
Like this, I will fuck him until his knees shake.
He picked the perfect night to come looking for his retribution. My skin’s tinted silver by the moon. The garden is heavy with the scent of roses.
This is what makes a memory. And every time he thinks of me from now on will hurt him. Because he can’t have me.
Because I’m Declan’s queen, and not his.
“I’ve waited a long time for you to come to me, Saoirse Byrne.”
The way his voice grates, I’d say he can barely talk. All that blood in his cock must be aching.
Hunkering down, Finn gets eye to eye. “And now that the moment has arrived, I’m not that impressed.”
He gives me a push and I go tumbling over. He’s already walking back to wherever he came from, so I kind of have to crawl after him.
“No! Wait. Stop!”
He doesn’t stop. I jump into a crouch and pelt after him. I’m so mad, I can’t think straight.
I’m getting serious déjà vu here, but I can’t stop from launching myself at his back and pounding him with my fists.
“You… fucking Irish swine… you no good piece of…” Every time I pause to breathe, I try taking a swipe at him, but he just ducks away or moves back.
He faces me down. No urgency, but lazy and bored. He catches my hands.
“Jaysus. The state of you, woman! You knock down my old man’s gaff and you’ve got the gall to give me socks for handing you the cold shoulder?”
I hate him for making sense.
I’m topless and it makes me feel vulnerable. Wrenching my hands out of his clasp, I cross them over my breasts. They’re nothing compared to Gayle Tooley’s.
“I’m sorry. I did it on impulse. There. I said it. Sorry.”
He steps around me and bends to pick up his backpack. “Sure. I got what I came for. So… cheers.”
Why does every confrontation I have with Finn end up feeling incomplete? “What’s in the pack?”
He gives me one of those looks. Stern. Brooding. Like he’s disappointed I had to ask.
“Semi-automatic.”
If he’s expecting fear, he couldn’t be more wrong. I grew up surrounded by weapons.
“Oh, puh-leez. As if my poor old Da’s going to come out here gun’s blazing. He’s retired, you realize.”
My legs turn to water as he digs in the pack and starts to take something out.
I mean, I did bulldoze his home…
It’s not a gun. It’s a hipflask.
The smile he gives when he holds out the flask to me melts my insides. “One for the road, Saoirse?”
I need to be nice. I don’t want half a dozen Irish American lads piling into my luxury condo complex.
A nod and a smile has him coming back to sit with me, but when I reach for my dress to put it on, he grips me again.
“No.”
“Is it my penance to sit topless while you stay clothed, Finn?”
The look he gives me is priceless. Not cocky, but almost calculating. I don’t think he was ever a spontaneous boy, but he’s definitely weighing me up.
Like I’m an opponent, and no longer a lover.
He lifts off his hoodie. He’s wearing a common undershirt now. The kind that working men wear on a hot day working under the sun.
Only no laborer I know ever looked this good. I grab the flask and twist off the cap. Half the contents are gone before I stop swallowing.
I hold it out to him, but he shakes his head.
“I’m training, remember?”
I lift one eyebrow, like, “Really?”
He smiles, gives a short laugh, and takes off the undershirt too.
He’s so hot, he’s making it hard for me to remember the reasons why we should fight and not fuck.
I don’t think it through. I’m lunging for him before I can put my thoughts in order.
My panting makes the crickets fall silent. Pulling the loose band holding up his joggers, I try to kiss him.
It’s like a fantasy in the flesh when he lies on the grass. He accepts my kisses, the quick hard pecks on his mouth, throat, and chest.
He’s enduring my foreplay. Receiving it the same way a martyr accepts the heat of the flames. And I still can’t pull back.
Sitting astride his rippling six-pack, I lean over and stare at his face under the moonlight.
He stares back. I can see galaxies spinning in his shadowy eyes.
Lazy, almost disinterested, he puts his hands on my grinding hips. His touch is gentle. If he didn’t have such a rampant erection, he could pretend I’ve had zero effect on him.
“It’s a crazy woman you are, darlin’.” He reaches up and strokes the hair away from my face. “Do you want this?”
The pause is only because I’m not sure if he means sex or more than that.
“I want you.” I can’t make up my mind. He shouldn’t have come here.
Being caught off-guard has me on the back foot. My mind’s gone. My body’s in charge.
I grab the outline of his cock and work it. That should tell him exactly what I want.
Besides kicking off his sneakers and socks, he does nothing. The only interaction Finn gives me is running his hands over my breasts, hip, and thighs.
The slow, steady stroke of his hands is strangely comforting, but also highly erotic. The narrow space between us feels electric.
I bring my kisses lower. Over his chest, down the happy trail leading to his… I don’t know what they’re called, the V-shaped lines that point to his crotch. Apollo’s Belt, or something.
He lets me hook his joggers down. He’s not wearing briefs. His cock rears up against his belly, capturing my attention and taking my breath away.
Wiggling out of my panties, I lie on him. My feet reach below his knees when I kiss him.
He’s a big lad.
He turns sideways and I roll off. His hand rests on my waist and caresses my hip, slowly, and very, very sensually.
“D’you think you’re better than me, storí?”
I’m aroused, but I’m not stupid. “No. We’re both the same.”
The languid touch of his hand going up and down my thighs feels so good.
“No, we’re not the same. I’m a man. You’re a woman. Big difference.”
I stroke his cock up and down. I lick my lips while doing it because he makes me so freaking sexually hungry.
“How many inches of a big difference are we talking about here?” Saucy, I know, but it’s so good to relax and let my desire take the wheel.
We laugh, but he kisses my smile away. What we’re doing is too serious for long-lasting laughter.
The whiskey’s made me giddy. I let Finn part my legs and he goes down on me. The steady lapping of his rough tongue feels exquisite.
When he moves up to kiss me again, I can smell my perfumed body cream and juice on his mouth. I taste delicious.
He’s calmed me down; made me realize that there’s no rush, no need to fuss. It’s just the two of us naked under the moonlight on this hot summer night.
I suck his cock, lick him all over, take pleasure in feeling the hardness against me when I rub my breasts and belly over him.
I’m gradually getting closer to my orgasm. When it comes, it’ll wash over me as warm and natural as a sunrise.
I kneel to sit on him, the way he let me do it before, but he sits up and cradles me in his arms as I settle onto him. The way our bodies are joined feels so good.
I ride him up and down and we kiss. “I’m close.” No need to explain what I mean. He knows.
Finn gives my bottom lip a gentle bite. He kneads my peachy ass with his large hands. He knows all the triggers to make my climax unbelievably good.
This time, I let myself do what I’ve always wanted to do. I tilt my head back and scream as I’m coming.
Because he’s so big. Because it feels so amazing. And because, for once in my life, I want to be as wild and savage as the man who’s fucking me.
He doesn’t push me away or fall asleep. His engagement is total. He allows me to set the pace, and he knows I can’t let go for a long while yet.
He lies back, lets me rest my head on his chest. His heart is pounding, but not fast. He’s too jacked for an elevated heart rate.
“Isn’t your old man’s guard going to come running?” He wants to know, probably because of my scream.
Finn doesn’t sound worried. His gun’s bigger than anything a soldier would be carrying.
“Da doesn’t have guards anymore. He’s got a gardener and a housekeeper. Mr. and Mrs. Dugan.”
He kisses the top of my head. “Sure, but aren’t they going to come looking for whoever made the noise?”
“No.” I feel sleepy, at peace more than anything else. “My da will just think it’s a fox. The Dugans are kinda hard of hearing.”
Finn pats my back in a syncopated rhythm. It’s hypnotic.
Eyes… closing. Limbs… weak. Energy… spent.
He shifts and I catch myself from falling asleep. “What’s the time?”
“Close to daybreak.”
I jerk up my head and find out that I’ve been half-asleep and drooling. “Holy moly! I was meant to visit Patrick and then go back home!”
Scrambling for my dress, I crawl on my hands and knees looking for my panties.
“Then what were you doing in the garden?” He points at the rake while pulling on his clothes and slinging the backpack over one shoulder.
It’s a legitimate question. I came out here looking for the Claddagh locket Finn gave me six years ago. I threw it on the compost heap.
It was a long shot, but I was hoping to find it… so I could destroy it more effectively, of course.
“That’s beside the point!” Seriously? The birds are twittering in the trees. The sky is lightening in the east.
I feel like some kind of sexual vampire, caught too far away from my coffin.
Finn pulls me, forces me to stand in front of him. One by one, he does up my dress buttons.
“How are you getting back?”
I don’t want to go back. “A car service. I told my bodyguard I’d see him at the office tomorrow… today, I mean.” I’m officially dithering.
He gives me a hug, strokes my hair, soothes me. “I’ll get you sorted, yeah? Just go and wait at the bottom of the drive. The lady I’m sending to fetch you will back up any story you want to tell, okay?”
He’s gone before I can thank him. I hear a thud as he lands on the other side of the wall.
And I still can’t find my panties. I find the flask though. Don’t want Mr. Dugan seeing that, so I’d better take it home with me.
I don’t know how he managed to do it, but there’s a car waiting for me by the time I reach the bottom of the drive.
A middle-aged lady gets out, smiles, and opens the door for me. “Had a good evening then, did you, dearie?”
The words come out before I can think. “Yes, thank you. I did.”
I really did.
Fuck. My revenge has gone severely off-script.