Page 11 of An Angel’s Share (The Greystone Family: Greystone Brothers #1)

Aoife

His caramel-flecked come-fuck-me brown eyes are looking up at me from the bottom of the bed.

His hair is ruffled, scruff on his chin.

He’s more tasty than an ice cream on a hot day.

I want to lick him, run my tongue up the glorious length of him.

I want to grab ahold of his hair. Make it even more messy. Except, I can’t.

I pull on the restraints, a groan of desperation in my voice, and all he does is silently smirk.

Nipping at my ankle bone, running his hands up the backs of my legs, caressing the backs of my knees.

Stroking over and over. I’m so sensitive, my body crying out for him to make me come.

He’s been edging me for over half an hour.

I pull on the restraints again, my body arching upwards, desperately pushing my tits towards him.

I want his mouth on me again. I’d never experienced an orgasm by just touching my tits before.

The slow build, the want of more. But it never comes.

He’s slow, methodical, keeping it burning.

Until the explosion. The pulsing of heat into the stratosphere.

“Open them wider.” A command, a tap on my legs. I do. I’m trying to pull him nearer with my feet, but he steps back. The plaintive cry that escapes me makes him smile. “I’ll make it worth your while. Trust me to give you everything, Miss Roulette.

I open my legs as far as they can go.

“Good girl.”

I’ve truly lost my mind here now. I’ve never been anyones ‘good girl’. Never wanted to be. I’m fucking Aoife. But for him, I am. For this pleasure he is stoking in me, I am.

Totally exposing my pussy to him and the morning air, I can feel the breeze on my skin as goosebumps erupt on my legs and move up my body.

He takes it all in, smiling, with desire written all over his beautiful face.

It sends me up another notch. To know that I affect this glorious god of a man. To see his huge erection.

He slaps my pussy as I cry out in ecstasy, “Harder, Jonno, please.” I’m begging him. “I want it all.”

His hand wraps around my throat. I love the dominance as he rears up and kneels between my spread thighs. Thrusting his huge cock forwards, inch by glorious inch, he demands my surrender.

And I do. I would do anything for this man to continue to play my body.

My cries must be heard all over LA. Harder, faster, long and slow. Just as I’m building up, he stops, pulls out, pulses me. I’m losing my mind. “Please, Jonno. Please.”

“Now you can come.” His voice is a growl, the predator capturing his prey.

The pounding is incredible. The orgasm hitting the Richter scale, my body shatters into a thousand pieces.

My vagina clamping down, capturing its victim.

Determined to never let him go. It’s a kidnap attempt on a cock. A cocknap. Call the FBI.

A faint buzzing sound becomes louder, an unwelcome intrusion, and I look around the room for it. He’s gone. Where did he go?

Gasping out a loud breath, I wake up.

My lady bits are still partying in LA. Still throbbing with the aftermath, clenching down on nothing.

I slump down into the mattress. Not again.

But this was way more vivid. Oh sweet Jaysus.

I’m dreaming again. Full-on sex dreams. My horny haze has now manifested him here.

My brain was half in LA and half in Ireland.

I want him, I need him, my hormonal haze has kicked in.

I’m that crazed, I’m dreaming about him in technicolour.

I try to slow my breathing, calm myself. He can’t get me like this. I need to make a plan. He’s being unreasonable. How the hell am I going to explain him to Daddy and Mammy in a week? Oh god, let the spirit of Granda Healey help me now. Because I know I can’t help myself.

I lay in bed, allowing the light to filter into the room.

It’s light early this time of year. I can hear the birds busy with their work.

I don’t think there'll be many O’Clerys around at this time.

Well, other than Daddy, Marshall, and Dermot—they seem to be impervious to the after effects of whiskey.

I think about the night before. How it started and how it ended. How can he be here? It’s not true. He isn’t. He’s just a dream. Maybe I dreamed up the kitchen.

I pull my top down and inspect my breasts.

Oh shit. Either he’s real or some vampire sneaked through my window and started sucking on my tits in the middle of the night.

I have a classic selection of hickeys. I grin to myself imagining a vampire.

But even he has the face of Jonno Greystone.

He could be in Twilight , he’s that gorgeous, otherworldly.

My mind conjures up images of him, from then and now. How can he have got so invested so quickly? He’s clearly some sort of weirdo. I need to keep him at arm’s lengths. He’s clearly got psycho tendencies, a stalker type.

I need to speak to Marshall, get the lay of the land. But he needs to rein him in.

Trying to lay the law down about what I have to do. The balls on that man.

I huff out a laugh to myself. Not a chance that is happening. He can think again. I don’t want a man. I never did. Which is why Liam is perfect—disposable when I don’t need him anymore.

Money talks in his world, but I’m not sure what ticks Jonno Greystone’s boxes. I need to find out and start to get ahead of him, though. Before he blows Mammy’s carefully constructed lies out of the water, and my cunning plan to smithereens.

I stagger down to breakfast to find the room full of slightly pale family members.

I go round each one, getting their tales of drunken antics.

It seems Patrick and Liam put on quite a show.

I laugh heartily as if I would have enjoyed it, and thank my lucky stars I was tucked up in bed. Well, partly.

Liam is sitting at the table, glowing as the centre of attention, guffawing loudly and generally being annoying. I go over and proffer a perfunctory kiss for show on his cheek. He pats me on the side of the cheek, and carries on eating.

I think about Jonno and his declaration to cater to my every whim, sexual or otherwise.

Well, only the sex side would have been enough.

But no, I can’t do that. I need to steer clear.

Head him off, not get more involved. Nor allow him any form of control.

I need to take him in hand. Even if he doesn’t know it yet.

I’ve still got lots of planning to finish off for the meeting.

I’m trying not to bother my dad with it all, so am trawling the accounts and back meeting notes to see what if any plans are in place to stop the rot.

We haven’t had a board meeting since I got back a few months ago.

They should be quarterly, but I just missed the last one.

And as things are so urgent, I called an extraordinary one, as the meeting by rights shouldn’t be until late September.

Everything runs through my mind as I survey the breakfast items spread out as usual on the side tables.

Only the eggs are made to order at breakfast, not that I am eating them at the moment.

So I pile my plate high with a bizarre mix of hot and cold food.

My eating habits are all over the place.

Mammy glares at my weird platter, and Liam, who is sitting on her right, catches sight of her face.

He decides it’s a good idea to question my food choices.

“I’ll eat what I feel like, Liam.” I contradict his attempt at an edict. “I’ve got a busy morning and I need to stock up my energy. If I eat this now, I can hang on until at least…lunch.”

Mammy pales at the thought of me devouring yet more food.

“Well don’t forget to get some fresh air and exercise,” she states, as if my well-being is her only purpose in life.

“I’m taking your father out for a stroll around the gardens.

Why don’t you join us.” Her eyes firmly fix on my decreasing platter, and my increasing waistline.

“Yes, darling, that would be so good for you. I can have a look over your work project. No need for you to be bothered with it,” Liam chimes in, simpering up to Mammy. She looks at him all dewy eyed.

“I need to go to the distillery today. Need to check in with the team. We have a new batch of mash, and Marshall wants to go, so I’m going with him. So unless you want to bring Daddy with you to that?—”

Her face goes purple instantly. I’m shocked.

How she’s not on heart pills, I will never know.

Mammy has the constitution of an ox. I’m just about to tell her as much when she shrieks, “No, absolutely not. Your father is going nowhere near that damned distillery, regardless of Marshall. I’ve told him— Darling, there you are.

” She interrupts her own rant, her voice going from crazed to calm in comic fashion as my dad arrives.

Mammy jumps up to fix a plate for him. Is he a five-year-old again? I grin at her antics.

“Mae, I can get my own food. Please sit. And did you say you are off to the distillery, Aoife? Marshall and Jonno are going, so I’m happy to accompany you.”

I widen my eyes at his bravery, and side eye my mammy, who has now gone red in the face and is about to explode.

“Now Mae, it was not the distillery that made me ill. It’s age, and probably too much good living.” He pats his trim tummy. “I want to show Marshall some items we picked up in America.”

Daddy looks bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning. I think it must be Marshall being here. He always cheers Dad up. He’s so calming, and has an encyclopaedic knowledge about whiskey and how to make things better. I know I always feel better whenever I see or talk to him. I wish he’d come home.

Marshall and Jonno come through the door. Marshall looks very handsome in his jeans and a very fine white shirt.