Lovers: The Irish Castle Page 14

  The cottage was old, both in stones and style. The large central room was a kitchen, lounge and dining room, with a turf-burning oven and a little grated fireplace. It was warm enough this time of year, so the fireplace was bare. He was a tall man, and was aware that there wasn’t much clearance. He felt large and powerful in the little, feminine space. It made him want to grab her and kiss her, as he had all those years ago.

  “Would you like a cup?” She motioned to the kettle that waited on the counter.

  “I would like something.” He closed the space between them in a few steps. “But it’s not tea.”

  Sorcha met him halfway, her fingers twining in his hair. She came up on her toes, her lips only millimeters from his. When she exhaled, he felt her breath on his face. She smelled good, not any scent he could name—it was expensive and feminine, making her seem exotic, though she looked as pretty as the rose of Tralee with her red hair and blue, blue eyes.

  He lowered his face to hers, ready to kiss her. He was stopped by her fingers on his lips. He pulled back and raised a brow in question.

  “This time, let me,” was all she said.

  Sorcha’s fingers dropped from his lips. Keeping one hand threaded through his hair, she placed the other on his shoulder, steadying herself. Séan cupped her hips, resisting the desire to move his hands to her ass.

  Tipping her head to one side, she brought her face to his. She held for a moment before dipping in for a quick, dry brush of lips. She paused, their breath mingling.

  This time the kiss was longer, and hard enough that he felt the swell of her lips. When she pulled back, he grunted in frustration.

  “Not enough?” she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice.

  “Not nearly enough.”

  “What do you want?”

  “This.” Taking firmer hold of her hips, Séan pulled her hard against him then bent his head to hers and kissed her. His was no gentle kiss but a fierce possession. He nipped her, slipping his tongue between her lips to taste her.

  They held each other, mouths fused, the pleasure mounting with each moment.

  When he broke the kiss, they were both breathing hard.

  “I’ve been waiting for that,” she whispered.

  “For what?”

  “For you to kiss me again. No one has ever kissed me the way you do.”

  “I want to be gentle.”

  “I’m glad you’re not.” Sorcha pulled his hands off her hips and took a few steps back. She stepped out of her shoes, kicking them to the side. Next she carefully took her nametag off her lapel and placed it on the counter. Séan stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep himself from walking across the room and grabbing her. This felt almost surreal. He’d longed for this woman for years, and after the disaster of their first meeting he’d never thought he’d be this close to her again.

  The button of her blazer slipped free under her slender fingers. The jacket fell open revealing the green dress she wore. When the blazer was gone, draped carelessly over the heat guard of the fireplace, Séan got his first good look at her. The dress showed off her legs below the knee and her slender arms. A belt around the middle highlighted the swell of her hips and breasts.

  He’d thought she was beautiful since the first moment he’d seen her. He’d wanted her since they danced, and now he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was the most perfect woman in the world.

  She reached up and did something to her hair. The red waves fell around her shoulders, haloed by the golden light of dusk.

  Dusk.

  Séan jerked as if he’d been struck. His gaze darted from Sorcha to the window. The light was failing, and if he had to guess he’d say it was half six. Sorcha’s hands were on the belt around her waist, fingers working the buckle.

  Hating himself, Séan closed his eyes for a painful moment before saying, “I have to go.”

  Sorcha’s hands fell to her sides. “What?”

  “It’s almost six.”

  Sorcha crossed her arms and raised a brow.

  “I have to go milking.”

  Sorcha blinked. “Milking.”

  “I have to milk my cows.” Séan rubbed his chin, feeling like a great country fool. Here he was with the woman of his dreams stripping off her clothes and he had to leave to milk his cows. “They have to be milked twice a day, and my girls know when they should be milked and they’ll be lined up at the parlor.” He winced at his garbled explanation. “There’s no one else to do it.”

  That was it. Whatever chance he’d had with Sorcha had been destroyed by talk of cows.

  “I’ll just…” He dropped his arms helplessly to his sides. “I’ll just go, then.”

  He turned and had his hand on the door when she said, “Wait.”

  Sorcha’s dress was loose around her shoulders, and she had her folded arms pressed to her chest.

  “When you’re done milking—” Sorcha dropped her arms and her dress fell to her waist. She wore a black lace bra, with hints of creamy skin showing through. “Why don’t you come back?”

  She pushed the dress over her hips, letting it fall to the floor. She wore matching black panties. Her body was all lush, touchable curves and velvety skin. Séan’s mouth went dry. He took a step, forgetting everything but his need to touch her. Sorcha held up a hand.

  “No. You have to go.”

  “I’m coming back.” His voice was low and rough, and Séan was afraid he’d scare her away, but she only smiled.

  “I know.”

  Ignoring her hand, he grabbed her, pulling her nearly naked body against his. God, she felt good in his arms. He kissed her quick and hard.

  “Wait for me.”

  Séan let her go and backed towards to door, worried that if he didn’t go now he never would.

  As he opened the door, he thought he heard Sorcha whisper, “I will.”

  * * * *

  Sorcha went to bed. She’d planned to stay up and wait for Séan, lounging sexily in the main room, but she’d started work early that morning and soon even anticipation wasn’t enough to keep her up. It was either go to sleep or sit up and start making lists of what they’d have to do to close down the hotel. She wasn’t ready for that yet.

  She didn’t know if Séan really was coming back. She didn’t doubt that he wanted to, but she also knew enough about farming to know that anything could and would go wrong. She’d grown up in a small village much like Cailtytown and had gone to school with kids whose families grew grain or raised cattle.

  She’d brushed her teeth, and then applied some pink lip stain—just in case—before crawling into bed.

  She wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep before a touch on her hand woke her. She frowned, mind slow to pull away from the sexy dream she was having. Something soft and warm was moving up her arm. She stretched in her sleep and a hand took hers, lacing their fingers together. That was enough to wake Sorcha, though she didn’t open her eyes.

  “Awake?” a gruff voice asked.

  “Either that or I’m having a wonderful dream.”

  “What’s happening in your dream?”

  “A sexy man is in my bedroom, and he’s about to do very sexy things to me.”

  “Then you are awake.”

  Sorcha opened her eyes. Séan was kneeling beside her bed. His hair was wet and his beard was trimmed, making him look much less rumpled than he had only hours ago. His gaze moved over her face, and his expression was serious.

  “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

  Sorcha was used to compliments and flirting, but this didn’t feel like flirting—it felt like the truth.

  “Don’t say that.” She cupped his cheek in her hand.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m not beautiful.” Not on the inside.

  Now a small smile quirked Séan’s mouth. “You are, but maybe you’re not so smart if you think you’re not.”

  “Ohh, wretched man,” she whispered as she drew him towards her.

>   They kissed, long and deep. Cold air washed over her as Séan pushed the covers off her.

  “Mary and the saints bless me,” he whispered as he looked at her. Lip color wasn’t the only thing she’d put on. She wore a green satin and black teddy. The lacy cups barely covered her breasts. A matching thong showed off more skin than her bathing suit.

  Séan sat back on his heels. Grabbing her around the waist, he swung her up to sit on the side of the bed, her legs spread on either side of him. His gaze lingered on her breasts and the strip of black lace that was the only thing protecting her sex from him.

  A shiver of arousal went through Sorcha and she was surprised by how strong the feeling was. She liked sex, liked how it made her feel, but this was more intense than normal.

  Séan’s hands on her ribs inched up until his thumbs nudged the underside of her breasts. Now she wished she hadn’t put on the teddy, because she wanted to feel his hands on her bare skin.

  “I’ve imagined touching you,” he whispered. Séan leaned in and kissed her breastbone, the whiskers on his chin scraping the soft swell of her breasts.

  “I always wondered what might have happened that night.” She threaded her fingers though his hair and resisted the urge to guide his head to her nipple.

  Séan lifted his head from her chest. “I did more than wonder.”

  He hooked his fingers in the lace bra cup and dragged it down, exposing her right breast. Cupping it, he took the nipple into his mouth, while his other hand kneaded her left breast.

  Sorcha arched her breasts into his face and hand. She wrapped her legs around his torso, pulling him tighter against her.

  He rubbed his hands over her belly, breasts and back, pressing the satin and lace against her skin. Catching the straps, he pulled the teddy down so it bunched around her waist, completely baring her breasts and dropping to his knees beside the bed. She watched him looking at her. His hunger was a palpable thing.

  He reached for her, but she caught his hands, moving them away and trying to stand. He was so close to the side of the bed that she was forced to straddle him, her pelvis close to his face.

  Before he could grab her thong, Sorcha reached down and tugged at the neck of his jumper.

  “Isn’t it time I see a little of you?”

  With jerking movements, he leaned back and pulled off the sweater, pulling at the buttons of the shirt he wore underneath until it too was off, tossed aside without a second thought.

  His shoulders were thick with muscle. She wanted to touch him, taste him.

  “Let me see you,” she said, reaching down to tug on him, urging him to stand so she could press herself against him.

  He refused to move, looking up at her from his position on his knees before her.

  “I can’t wait anymore. I’ve wanted you for too long.”

  Before she could scramble away, Séan grabbed her bare ass, fingers strong and rough. She gasped and steadied herself by holding his wrists, which only served to arch her body, pressing her sex closer to his face.

  Séan took full advantage of her position.

  His teeth nipped at the fabric of her teddy where it still covered her belly. She felt the hard edge of his teeth. He kissed his way along the hem, finding bare strips of flesh to tease. Each touch of his broad, wet tongue was electric. The muscles of her legs trembled as his teeth caught the side string of her thong. He tugged it away and then let it snap back, the sound loud in the hush of her bedroom.

  “Séan, you don’t have to do this, let me…” Her voice trailed off as his tongue dipped under the fabric of her thong.

  He whispered against her belly, words as hot as his breath. “I want to do this.”

  Then his head dipped lower, mouth angling up to press against her sex. Sorcha couldn’t stand anymore and collapsed down onto the bed. She gasped as his lips touched her core, the fabric of her panties still separating them. He kissed and licked her, the sensation muted but enough to drive her up to the edge. His mouth moved lower, his beard abrading the insides of her thighs.

  He pulled back only long enough to tug the panties to the side with his teeth. The cold air was a shock against her wet and ready sex. Then there was no time to think or feel anything other than his touch.

  He was gentle and thorough. If she’d been asked to guess, she would have said that Séan would be a gentle and thorough lover. She just didn’t know exactly what that would mean or how it would feel. He kissed her mound, the outer lips of her sex. Then he licked the seam over and over until her body opened for him. His tongue dipped inside, touching her inner lips, before brushing her clit. She jerked at the jolt of pleasure. Her movement took them both by surprise and Sorcha fell back on the bed.

  Séan grabbed her legs, pulling them together so he could draw her thong down and off. Sorcha pushed the teddy, which was crumpled around her waist, over her hips and he pulled that off too.

  Now she was lying fully naked before him, while he still wore his pants. He looked at her with such longing that Sorcha wanted to roll away and cover her face. He looked at her in a way that made her think that he saw something more in her than the sexy, ready, redhead.

  This was supposed to be sex, nothing more. All she wanted him to see was this—her naked body, ready and willing.

  He rose to his feet, his gaze met hers and Sorcha sucked in a breath. He was dark, handsome and powerful. Far more powerful and dangerous in that moment than she’d ever fathomed he could be.

  “I wanted to bring you pleasure before…” He trailed off as his gaze roamed over her.

  “You have, you have brought me pleasure.” Arching her back, Sorcha lifted her leg, pressing her bare foot against his shoulder. He turned his head and kissed her ankle, his hands kneading her calf.

  “I want to see you come apart.”

  Sorcha stiffened. She knew what he meant, and she had no problem orgasming from oral sex, but she did not want to come apart. She’d had a hard time putting herself back together after she’d last come apart.

  Sorcha lifted her other leg, hooking her heels around his sides and pulling so he lost his balance and fell over her. He caught himself on his hands, his gaze switching between her lips and breasts.

  “Maybe we should do it together.” She used her legs to lift and rub her pelvis against the rough material of his pants.

  Her words and movement were stopped by his lips. The kiss became a battle, tongues dueling, lips nipping. He tangled a hand in her hair, tugging her head back and holding it still so he could lick and kiss her throat. Her fingers raked his shoulders as he licked his way down to her breasts.

  His body was a solid weight in the cradle of her thighs, and with each touch her need grew. She didn’t want kisses and licks—she wanted to feel his cock pressing into her, opening her, filling her.

  “I want you,” she moaned. “I want you in me. Now.”

  “Are you ready?” His hand slipped between her legs, fingers sliding along the slick moisture of her sex. He pressed one, then two fingers into her.

  “Yes.” She tried to reach between them and undo his pants, but she couldn’t reach. She settled for pushing on his shoulder until he rose to stand beside the bed. She sat up and together they made quick work of his pants. He kicked them off even as Sorcha grabbed the waistband of his briefs and shoved them down to his knees.

  His cock was thick and hard, the tip wet. It bobbed as Séan kicked off his pants and Sorcha took hold of it. As soon as she did, he went still.

  “I’m barely controlling myself,” he warned her.

  Sorcha had a crazy urge to slip off the bed and take him in her mouth, pleasuring him until he trembled, until he was vulnerable the way he made her feel. But then she wouldn’t feel that thickness opening her, stretching her.

  Reluctantly she released his cock. He fumbled with a condom packet, tearing it open and rolling it on. He shuddered a little when it was on.

  Sorcha pushed the sheets and duvet off the bed. It was late and there was a chill
in the air, but she knew she wouldn’t have to worry about being cold. She slid to the center of the bed and lay on her side. She traced her fingers up and down her belly, occasionally circling her breast with her fingertips. His gaze tracked the movement of her hand.

  She took her nipple between finger and thumb, pinching and twisting, pulling hard, showing him that she wasn’t as delicate as she looked, that she wanted and need more. He came down on the bed beside her, stretching out. His hand kneaded her thigh, making its way up towards her sex.

  This time Sorcha didn’t make it easy. She crossed her legs and bent her knees, forcing his hand away from her. Séan’s gaze met hers. He broke the stare to grab the ankle of her upper leg, holding her foot steady so he could kiss and nip at her arch. His attention moved higher, over her calf to her knee.

  When he could go no further, he grabbed her legs and forced them open, baring her to his gaze, his hands and his cock. She was willing, more than willing. She needed him, but she wanted that—wanted the sensation of being forced to yield, made to give in.

  He pinched the lips of her sex, then with finger and thumb pushed them open, baring her to his gaze.

  “You like it like this, rougher.” His words wavered between a statement and a question.

  “Sometimes.”

  He released her legs and shifted so he lay between her splayed thighs. “You’re wet, ready.”

  “Then you should take me.”

  “Look at me.”

  Sorcha’s hands fell away from her breasts and she met his gaze. He was both the mild, kind man she’d known for years and someone new, someone dark and intense. He slid up, his cock pressing into her thigh, her ass, before resting in the cradle of her sex.

  “Hold on to me.”

  Sorcha wrapped her hands around his shoulders, keeping eye contact. His eyes were brown and gold and green. There were wrinkles at the corners from squinting. In his eyes she saw a reflection of herself, and who she was to him was someone far more beautiful and pure than she was. But now, caught up as she was in the pleasure, she didn’t fear it—she reveled in it. She wanted that pure, beautiful girl he saw to be ravaged by him. Wanted to be taken and pleasured—to give up control in a way she never did, even in sex.