Page 14 of Cillian (The Sullivan Scoundrels #1)

Thirteen

C illian

“Arch your back, baby. Arch your back,” I issued a low command as I positioned her body in just the right way to receive a good morning pounding. “ Mmm …look at that arse.” Giving it a gentle slap.

“You like that?” Satisfied with the mmm …that followed. We barely got any sleep. If she woke up and I was awake, we were fucking. If I woke up and she was awake, we were fucking. When it came to her, I had no self-control or sexual discipline. But after a few days of hating each other, taking out that frustration through sex made all that animosity go away with it.

Hovering over her to reach my hand between her legs, she gasped unprepared for it, panting like a mad woman who couldn’t get enough. I wanted this pussy sweet on me. Most of all, I wanted this pussy addicted to cock.

“ Mmm …is this pussy mine?”

“Yes, Cillian.” Surprising me that she’d been able to say it this time. She could do better, though.

“Say it. Tell me that this pussy is mine,” I said as I reached my free hand over her neck, longing to feel the vibrations of her words on my hand.

“This pussy is yours, Cillian.”

“Then this pussy does what I tell it to. Fucking come on this cock. I want to empty my balls into a tight, spasming, needy little hole.” A bit of encouragement went a long way with Queenie. Clawing at my hand at her throat, she joined me in pained groans and twisted agony, reaching around her to squeeze my bum and pull me in closer.

Collapsing onto the mattress, as spent as we were, it didn’t stop us from falling into a drunken rhythm of light caresses, gentle pecking, as a tangle of limbs later, we were in a cuddle. I kissed her on the forehead, waiting for my heart rate to come down before I broke our beautiful silence.

Emblazoned by the natural sunlight, Queenie looked so beautiful, exhausted and ruined because of me. Even in our mess, her skin was so soft, so kissable, I took her hand in mine and pressed my lips to it.

“Jesus, woman.”

“What?” She giggled, confused.

“For a virgin, you sure know how to wear a man out.”

“Me? I don’t know what I’m doing, for now I just follow your lead.”

“Then I must be a fairly good teacher, because you are fucking amazing.” My lips pressed hard against her forehead, pulling her as close to me as humanly possible. Leaving this bed was going to be torture.

“I feel like I’m in a dream I don’t want to wake up from.” Her doe eyes snatching the breath away from me when she met my gaze. “You’re like the best thing that ever happened to me, I swear it. I don’t think someone has ever made me feel this good.”

Studying me with those curious eyes, I expected a difficult question to follow. “So, you haven’t felt anything for anyone you’ve been with?”

“It makes me sound like a horrible person but…no.” I was embarrassed to admit the rest, but when she didn’t let up, I saw it as my opportunity to see if she could handle me being honest.

“I’ve never properly fancied a woman. Or had her fancy me.” Her face drained in color, but it was understandable after what she said next.

“I was always taught you were supposed to love someone when you did it, but because I heard it wasn’t so fun for women. Imagine my surprise for it to feel like that. No wonder everyone wants a woman to wait.”

Sitting up, I pressed her hand to my chest. Having something of her on me calmed my nerves a bit. “Ain’t nothing wrong with waiting. You don’t really get a choice when you’re a man.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Queenie, remember when I told you, things happened to me too? Something I didn’t have a choice with?”

“I do…I just assumed—” Silently, I knew what she assumed. That I’d been touched as a kid by a priest. She watched me kill one, after all. My story wouldn’t gain me a lot of empathy from my brothers, but if I could trust her with this, I’d know she saw me. Know she could feel for me, the way I did her.

“I was the runt of my brothers. Even my sister used to be taller than me. My father was one of them fathers who slapped us around a lot. He said it made us tough, but just made us resentful of him. Fighting didn’t come as easy for me as early as it had for Bellamy. Tadhg didn’t need to because he was big. Paddy? Didn’t take long before he was a bully. But me? My father thought I was soft.”

My throat nearly closed, but Queenie took my hand in hers and squeezed, giving me the courage to keep going. “Told me if I couldn’t fight. I was sure as hell going to learn how to fuck.”

The memories were fuzzy, or maybe I didn’t want to remember them, so they never came clear to me, just the way I’d felt at the time. Anytime I’d ever felt sick, it was trying to make sense of what happened to me back then.

“He took me to my first brothel when I was eight. I don’t remember it like I want to. Maybe it’s my mind trying to protect me from myself. Got so many bad memories at that place, I didn’t realize how hollowed out it made me until I made love to you. Making love has always been one of those things where I just sort of…drift.” The words heavy on my tongue.

“It’ll feel good, but I’ll only be there for the before and after, never the in between. You were my first in between. I don’t think I’d ever been so conscious of how beautiful a woman’s breath sounds. Looking into your beautiful eyes. I ain’t never did that before. But the drift…that just made it easier to get through it. Until I could convince myself I liked it. That I was supposed to do it. For about four years, Pa would force me to go. If I didn’t do it, he’d give me something to cry about. And then he’d call me a sissy. So, I just did it. Even when I didn’t want to.”

I hadn’t even been aware my eyes were welling until the warmth of salt and water rolled down my cheek. “By then, it was normal for me. To just do it. But it grew something dark inside me, that sometimes I need to let out. Not often, just sometimes. I remember trying to make sense of it, waiting until I was fifteen to go back. For some stupid reason, I thought about my first all the time. By then I was better at it anyway, and I came back to see her to see if she could fix what was broken in me. When we were done, it threw me off when she didn’t mention it. Turns out she barely remembered me.”

That part, I remembered vividly . In a fucked-up way, I thought she’d want to be with me. Not just for the sex. But as a steady, so all my memories of her weren’t all messed up. “Not to mention, she made a fool of me. Said I was better looking when I was eight. A moment that stayed with me forever—made me never present for when I actually did lay down by choice—she barely remembered. I didn’t think myself capable of loving a woman after that. I was okay with the drifting, as long as things felt good by the end. You’re the first person to make me not want the drift.”

Without much warning, Queenie leaned into kiss me, wrapping her arms around me and making me feel safe. “I’m sorry that happened to you. It…it explains a lot about you for me. We were forced to do things we didn’t want to because of who raised us.”

“At least you’re still good. Kind. Sweet. I was never going to be those things with a father like mine. It makes scared that I’m going to do something to lose you, or chase you away?—”

“Cillian.” Kiss. “Cillian, look at me.” As she held my face in her hand, locking me in with her deep doe eyes. “There’s nothing you could say, or do, or admit, that could make me not fall for you?—”

“That’s because you don’t know all the dark stuff about me. The despicable shit I like to do.”

“Well, I like you .”

“Oh yeah?” As she pulled apart from me, resting on her stomach, and I caressed her naked back. “What do you like about me?”

“I like the way you talk.”

“So now you understand me?” I teased, drawing invisible shapes on the back of her shoulders.

“I think I said that to be mean. But you don’t talk like anyone I’ve known before.”

“Especially when I’m whispering in that ear to fucking come in you,” I teased, leaning in and bringing my voice to a whisper. She bat me away, but she didn’t deny it.

“I like all of your freckles?—”

“Bullshit!” I interrupted.

“I do,” reaching her lips to kiss the area around my chest where it was as noticeable as my face.

“What do you like about them?” I challenged.

“It’s hard to articulate. I guess it looks like someone dusted small, random little polka dots all over you. Especially your face.”

Mounting me, it surprised me to see her come into her own, rubbing her pussy against my cock without being so quick to cover herself, or wait for me to initiate. “Oh yeah?” my voice broke, as she guided me inside of her.

“What else do you like?” I groaned, taking hold of her juicy hips, as she ground her pelvis into mine.

“I like your red hair,” she moaned, running her fingers through it. Taking one of her nipples in my mouth, I sucked so hard, the damn thing snapped back.

“Fucking liar,” I argued as I thrust up into her, catching her off guard.

“I wouldn’t lie to you about that,” she said, pushing me down, finding the balance to her rhythm. “It’s not like I know what you like about me,” her voice a whimper, the room becoming a balance of moans and answers.

“I love your skin,” I admitted, admiring her contrast to me. “I love that its perfect and soft.” Queenie leaned in, grinding her body against mine as I held her tight. She wasn’t going anywhere.

“Your smell. You always smell so nice.” Surprised at how her strokes were sending me into a state of bliss. “You’re so fucking beautiful, but not just your outside.”

We weren’t looking into each other’s eyes, but I was aware of how far along her breath sounded, how high pitched her moans were getting, I was in the moment with her, enjoying it—with her.

“But most of all, I love when your tight little pussy gets overwhelmed with my cock.” As from underneath her, I thrust faster, her shrieks of pleasure growing more feral.

“I love it when you fuck me,” she admitted, something I knew she had to force her shy mouth to say.

“I like it when become a little whore for me and come all over my cock.” Meeting each other inch-for-inch, stroke for stroke, in record time, each of our releases held us captive in each other.

It took time to come down from each other, but not as long as our session before, that it didn’t surprise me when she still had energy left. “I wanted to ask you something,” she asked with sweet eyes.

“There is stuff you do, that I don’t understand.”

“Such as?”

By the way she tensed up, you could see she wasn’t sure how to address it. She couldn’t even say it, she just used gestures.

“When you…” She held her own hand up to her neck, to mimic my hand necklace. “Or you…” And once again, she slapped her skin, but didn’t know how to say it without being vulgar.

“You call me stuff?—”

“If it bothers you, I’ll stop,” I said, instantly feeling shame for putting that on her.

“No. I…it doesn’t bother me. I just want to understand it. That’s all.”

“I told you, I go dark sometimes. I take it easy on you, because I don’t know what you can’t handle. But most of all, I want you to feel safe with me and I don’t want to lose that.”

“So, there’s more to it? Darker than that?”

“Yeah, but I would never do it unless you asked me to. And it’s not even something I need all the time. Just when I need it. You’re my wife, so I don’t want you thinking I don’t respect you. But there is this urge . Maybe one day you’ll feel safe enough to consider going dark with me, but you don’t have to. Making love to you is enough. More than enough. I just, sometimes would be fine with you being open. I wouldn’t force you, though.”

“So I’d have a choice?”

“Baby, of course you’d have a choice. If you don’t want to, we don’t.”

“Would it be something you’d be willing to walk me through?”

“If you’re considering it. I would make it good for you. The way I make what we’ve been doing for hours, good for you.”

Rubbing my nose against hers before leaning in for a kiss, she pulled away but not before asking, “Can I think about it?”

“Mmmhmm.” But I was just surprised she was considering it. She was the epitome of virtue. And here I was corrupting her. “If you ever go dark with me, it’ll be because you wanted me to, and not something I asked of you, okay?”

She nodded, as the sound of my growling tummy changed the mood in the room. “Hungry?” she softly smiled.

“I haven’t eaten much.” Managing to wrestle on her back. “Unless I count you.”

“Would you like me to make you something?”

“You can cook?” We didn’t exactly marry the good old fashion way, so never had time to confirm anything about Queenie until we started getting along.

“You can be the judge,” she said, slipping out of bed, gracing me with the sight of her glorious bum, before it disappeared under one of my dress shirts.

“Look at you. Getting familiar, laying claim to all my shirts.” Joining her not long after, pulling her to me.

“It’s not like I have much clean. Even if I never leave the house, the only stuff to change into most of the time is your stuff,” she flirted.

“They look better on your anyway,” I confessed, as she managed to gallop away from me, prompting me to grab a pair of pants and trousers to change into. Pinching myself to make sure this was my life, I finally made it out the room, following the sounds and smells that came from the kitchen.

“Surprised you found something edible,” I said, creeping behind her to wrap my arms around her waist. She was doing her best attempt at mixing whatever was in the bowl and being distracted by me, and sadly being distracted by me was winning.

“Someone who loves you made sure there was food in your pantry and refrigerator.” She tilted her cheek just enough to catch the kiss I laid to it before I lightly smacked her bum and gave her space.

“Smells good,” patiently waiting, watching her work in the kitchen. Having never thought about being married before prison, I had always pictured this image featuring someone far less pretty, or far less good for me than Queenie.

I wasn’t bad looking, but Paddy and Bellamy were considered the handsome ones. Pa always said that because we were gingers, Tadhg and I would have it harder to get good looking wives, so to just be content with a girl who can cook, raise your children and empty your balls into every now and then. Didn’t matter if you liked them, just could count on them not to step out on you and embarrass them.

Now that I was married, that was horrible advice. I thought the world of Queenie. She didn’t judge me for my bad choices and past. The fear of sharing why I’m fucked up now was surely the nail in the coffin I’d need to put her in the category I’d always put other women.

But I wanted her life to be easy . The things my father subjected our house to made it feel like living in a warzone. Paddy got it the worst, but the person who suffered most of all, was Mum.

When you actually liked your wife, you couldn’t imagine putting them through all that. They must have really hated each other, because I couldn’t imagine lifting anything but a loving hand to this woman. Unless she asked me to go dark with me. That would change everything.

“You like pancakes, right?”

“I reckon I've never had them way you make them,” recognizing our different palates.

“There’s a difference?” she asked after dressing each plate.

“I think American pancakes are fluffier, but I ain’t never had one to compare. Irish pancakes are more like what Americans consider crepes.”

“I hope you like mine. Didn’t know I’d have competition.” The sizzling of eggs and sausage made my mouth water a little more than usual.

“I’m sure you were never asked to cook. But if you had been, what types of things would you make if you could on your own?”

“You’re right, I’m not much of a cook. But back in Ireland, when you grow up poor, you made due with what you have. My brother Tadhg taught me a few things. I hear Paddy’s learned a lot since serving. But I can make a mean crisp sandwich.”

Arguably, it was the easiest thing to prepare for a man with no cooking skills, but it tasted like home.

“And a crisp is?”

“I reckon you call them potato chips. But essentially, you butter two slices of bread and load it with crisps. Crisp sandwich.” Tying it all together. Queenie didn’t seem to be impressed by it, but who would be when whatever you made smelled like what she was cooking now.

Before long, Queenie placed a full plate of an American breakfast in front of me. Sunnyside up eggs, a stack of pancakes, sausage and a type of scone I wasn’t used to adorned my plate. The sight was fucking glorious.

“You look so nervous,” she beamed standing across from me, offering condiments if I needed them.

“It’s not that. I just don’t know where to start.” Deciding no one could fuck up eggs, I took my chances starting with that. Seconds away from thanking her for cooking, I nearly fell out my chair, as my mouth submitted to the myriad of flavors.

“My god,” I spoke through a full mouth. “Where did you learn to cook like this?” The concoction of cake, meat, porridge and sweet were all at war with each other and I was fine with every single one of them winning.

It dawned on me that Queenie was just standing there, watching me eat. That was what my mother used to do. Cook for her husband, cook for the kids, then when we were all done, cook for herself.

Surely, Queenie had been raised the same. That wasn’t how I pictured things between us, her being a servant to me like my Mum had been to Pa. “Come sit with me,” offering my lap, as she graciously took it and we took turns feeding each other.

“You’re so good to me, Queenie.” Leaning in to lick the syrup that had slipped down the corner of her mouth. “I appreciate you. Even when we were hard on each other.”

Slipping what she called a biscuit in my mouth, my eyes rolled to the back of my head like I’d never eaten before. This had to be fucking love. “You’re so fucking perfect,” as it didn’t take long after devouring the plate, to be devouring each other.

She centered herself to have better control on top of my lap, my busy hands finding its way into the dress shirt, our mouths working like we had every intention of depriving ourselves of air.

Pulling one of her breasts out the shirt made her playfully pull away, deeming the location inappropriate. “No, not here.”

“Why not here?” Biting my lip, fighting the lustful glaze over my eyes. Sliding my hands between her legs, her wetness confirmed it. “ This seems to want to here,” I teased.

“We eat here,” she defended.

“Trust me, I plan to eat plenty,” I said, drawing circles on the button between her legs. Her bottom lip got caught between her teeth, as a desperate mew left her mouth when I pulled back. “I thought you wanted me to stop,” I taunted, as she gave in, working her manicured hands to unzip my trousers and pull me out of them.

“It feels nice when you spit on your hand,” I encouraged, as she took my direction well, working me up and down. “Mmm…that feels nice.”

Massaging and pinching her breasts from inside the dress shirt, I knew if we hadn’t wanted to become this way, we never should have fucked in the first place. Now I can’t keep my hands off of her.

“Just get me hard. I want to come in you.” We managed to push my trousers down to my ankles. Just as she’d managed to take all of me into her, my mouth went in for a desperate kiss.

“Clock is ticking, Cilly boy. Waited long enough for you, you’ve got—” Queenie’s scream layered with the cadence of Bellamy barking, but neither Bellamy or Paddy were prepared to walk in on me and my wife finally fucking.

“The fuck is going on here?” Paddy crowed, Bellamy being the only one with decency to turn around. He hit Paddy, forcing him to face opposite of us as I argued that my wife wasn’t decent.

Strangely, Paddy was polite enough to offer his coat to Queenie, so she could put on some clothes. Once she left the room, Paddy handed Bellamy money, as I’m sure they’d placed another bet on me.

“What the fuck was that?” I asked, managing to button back my trousers.

“Bell bet me the only reason you hadn’t showed up to the theater or come downstairs, was because you were fucking. I bet him not only were you not fucking, but that one of you’d be wringing each other’s necks. Got to say, it’s one of the first times, I’m glad I’m wrong.”

Bellamy sat at the table, pointing at my leftovers, asking “Are you gonna eat that?”

“You mean breakfast my wife cooked for me ?”

“Thanks, I’ll just help myself,” as he built himself a plate.

“Guessing something changed. She didn’t seem too unhappy to be there,” Paddy taunted.

“We were kinda in the middle of something, so if you could give us another thirty minutes?—”

“It is twelve of fucking clock, kid. How much time do you fucking need?” Bellamy interrogated.

“I could make five work,” I pleaded.

“Look Cilly, we’re happy that you got a wife who’s not scared off by your ugly mug enough to lay down with you, but you have work to do. Plus, I’m sure it’ll be an adjustment. You ain’t never been much for vanilla, so I’m sure it can wait.”

Now it was my time to humble one of them for once. Because my wife was more open than they thought. “That’s where you’re wrong. My wife knows all my fucked-up shit. When she’s ready for despicable, she’ll get despicable,” I bragged.

Paddy’s face dropped, as he pointed in the direction Queenie left. “You got that church girl interested in the Sullivan’s curse?” he asked and an arrogant smile stretched across my face. He then pulled another bill out of his pocket and handed it to Bellamy.

“See, that was a mere speculation. If anything, I was thinking the same.” Bellamy tucked the money in his pocket. How many bets had they placed on this relationship?

“So naturally, you can see why I could use an extra ten.”

“You just said five!” Paddy challenged.

“Ten’s so I can, you know? Make sure we both…” I hesitated, hoping they’d get the hint.

“As much as we want that for you, it still means you have to pull your weight. Tadhg’s counting on you. We’re counting on you. We got on without you, but you’re here. The ship sinks if we don’t all do our part.”

Knowing I’d never win an argument with my brothers, I punched the air wondering if they’d wait for me to put on a shirt.

“We’d ask you where it is, but it was pretty obvious walking through the door.” Paddy joked. Not long after, Queenie returned, wearing a robe as she handed Paddy back his jacket.

“Thank you.”

“No problem at all, Elizabeth.”

“Queenie,” she corrected, catching my brothers off guard until she clarified. “Most people call me Queenie. At least family does.”

“Queenie it is then.” She pranced over to me for a hug, but settled for a light peck instead. I wanted to beat all the barks and snickers I got because of it, but if I couldn’t have her one last time before I left, the least they could do is let me get a kiss without ridicule.

“You got five minutes. Anything more, we’re coming back up here to save you from yourself. Plus, you’re a Sullivan. Ain’t no Sullivan started something that ever lasted only ten minutes.

***

Skating to the kitchen, I was relieved to find Queenie by herself, fully taking advantage of her in a tussle of mouths and lips.

“They’re waiting on you,” Queenie said through muffled lips.

“I don’t care.” Knowing I’d be home late, as the start of the weekend had extended business hours. “I don’t know when I’ll be home, but I promise to get back to you as soon as I can.

“Okay,” she said, accepting the kiss.

“Please, please, wait up for me.” Keeping her close despite pulling away.

“I promise.”

“I’m serious. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t even be leaving you. But we never finished what we started. I have every intention on finishing what we started.”

“Cill!” a booming voice from the day room roared.

“Alright!” Leaning in for one last kiss. “Promise you’ll wait up.”

“I already promised!” as just as I was about to leave, she handed me a brown paper bag.

“Promise again,” I teased, before she pushed me away to join my brothers.

The elevator ride was a combination of Paddy’s snickering and inappropriate jokes, mixed in with Bellamy’s laundry list of demands.

“Pub’s already set up, so just hop on the Banshee. You’ve got deliveries to sign for. Declan’s got the opening of the Four Leaf under control. But you should check in since we’re signing it over to you at the start of next year.”

Hopping in Bellamy’s automobile, I’d forgotten Queenie’s gift to me before I left. Having no time to open it before, smiling hard at the “I miss you already” note she left behind.

Looking over his shoulder, Bellamy caught a glimpse of me unwrapping the handkerchief the food was covered in, as my face blushed at the sight of a crisp sandwich. “What the fuck is that?”

“What does it look like? A snack for later.”

“Get up outta that!” Paddy said in disbelief.

“I can’t help it if my wife wants to make sure I don’t go hungry.”

Paddy pointed at me from the front seat. “You hear this one? The eejit that didn’t even want to get married, finally enjoying the benefits of marriage. Might as well drive us off a cliff. I’ve seen everything and I don’t know how much my eyes can stand.”

“You’re a lucky son of a bitch, Cilly,” Bellamy said, his taunting accompanied with a laugh. “Truly a lucky son of a bitch.”

Thing was, I didn’t need my brothers to convince me. I already knew how lucky I’d been the moment I’d laid eyes on her.