Page 59 of Priestly Sins
The slow grin that spreads across his face is disarming.
“What?”
“Sirona called me and told me to stop ya from getting a dog a few days ago.”
“What did you say? And tell me what I want to hear, because there are cupcakes in it for you.”
“Cupcakes?” He makes the gimme gesture with his hand and I laugh and place the box on the table where we tend to sit. “What kind of dog?”
“Don’t know. Good with kids? Easy?”
“No such thing. But I’ll do my best. Anything more?”
“Yeah. Keep it between us?”
“Aye, lad. Not interested in hot water with your lady.”
“Smart man,” I mutter.
Thirty-One
Christmas in Ireland is not what I expect.
It could be because Christmases for me have been all work and no play for the last ten years. It could be because the prim formality my father demanded never allowed me to be a boy or a kid. Or because it was so long since the last time I was with my ma for the holidays. Shit, I was a boy… just a kid at that time.
It could also be because the commercialization doesn’t exist the same way here as it does in the States.
Mostly it’s not what I expect because of the radical shift between last Christmas and now. Last Christmas I was empty, dealing with the death of my father. I was alone in New Orleans and held vengeance higher than any other motivation.
This morning, I woke up full, at peace, and definitely not alone. And I mean that in every sense of the word. The sunrise should be at a quarter to nine, but well before that my mattress sinks then bounces and a squeal pierces my dream and, subsequently, my eardrums. “Poppppaaa!! Wake up! Waaake up!! It’s Christmas and Santa came.”
Using my abs as a springboard, she launches off me, little feet hitting the wood floors and slapping as she runs away yelling, “Come on!”
“Good morning,” a sweet voice whispers softly, and my smile grows as I crack my eyes open. Sirona stands beside my bed in Christmas flannel pajamas.
“Morning, baby. Merry Christmas,” I say through sleep.
“I brought you coffee,” she continues quietly and the smell hits me.
“Come here,” I reach out my arm and hook her neck, drawing her mouth to mine for a good morning kiss. She allows it, still shy. “Want to climb in with me?” I offer, knowing there’s no time or privacy, but her breath catches and her eyes hold mine, as a blush creeps across her skin.
“Yeah, you do,” I growl, but let her off the hook. “Later,” I promise.
And it’s one I plan to keep.
Sirona and Clara have a tradition of waffles and hot cocoa on Christmas morning. When I get to the kitchen table in my red and green flannel pajamas, Clara bounces onto my lap and launches into telling me about her morning.
She’s found the dollhouse I spent half the night building. That was after I spent half the month watching it be tracked from the States to Dublin to Galway to Knockferry. “Santa brought me a dollhouse. You were right, Poppa. He got my letter and knew we weren’t in Louisiana and that we were in Ireland and it’s pink! And it has a bathtub that will hold water…” She continues but all I can think about—and I’ll need to get over it quickly—is water on my rustic, wood-plank floors.
“Will you show me?” I ask and, before I can finish, she flies off my lap and takes off for the great room, doubling back to make sure I’m following, obviously not fast enough.
I turn to Sirona as I stand and take another sip of the cocoa in front of me. “Morning, baby,” I say and rub a hand down her back, turning her into me, and giving her another real kiss. Her soft moan is enough to get me hard. I pull her into me and deepen the kiss, tilting her head with a tug on her hair. I devour her mouth and press my cock into her soft belly, but pull back when Clara yells yet again. I can’t help but smile at the soft red painting her cheeks.
“You taste like coffee and chocolate,” she says, as if she didn’t mean to admit it aloud.
“You taste like heaven.” I rub my hand up under her flannel top and settling it back on the warm skin of her lower back, keeping her body flush with mine. Leaning down, I whisper in her ear, “Bet you’re delicious everywhere.” I pause just for a moment before adding, “And I can’t wait to find out.”
A shiver wracks her body and her eyes flutter closed.