Northern Sons (2 page)

"I'll throw the clothes in the dryer," I told him. He nodded and hung his jacket up on the coat rack by the door before stripping off his wet items and placing them in a small pile on the table next to him. I lingered for a moment as he removed his shirt, just to catch a brief glimpse of the muscular body lurking below. I'd had plenty of chances to see Ronan up close and personal, of course, but that didn't mean it wasn't thrilling each time. Now I looked especially closely at the wide tattoo across his chest spelling out the name of the club which he led - the Druids. With my own first experience with tattooing now behind me, I was better able to appreciate the time and energy that went into the designs that decorated Ronan's body. My own small tree had taken quite a while. I suddenly couldn't imagine how much time he'd spent sitting in a chair with
Wil's needle against his flesh.

I made myself turn away and went into the bedroom. I took off my own clothes hastily, piling them in a basket. After being soaked to the bone for hours, I was glad for the warmth afforded by being nude, let alone how good the clothes would feel after coming out of the hot dryer. I
grabbed two bathrobes and put one of them on, tying it around my waist. I carried the laundry basket and the other robe out to where Ronan was waiting.

He stood there, still damp and completely naked. He was admiring a picture of a particularly red flower on the wall, and I couldn't help but laugh at the sight.

"What's so funny?" he asked me with a smirk.

I shook my head and smiled. "Art appreciation usually doesn't involve having your cock out, is all."

His smirk turned into a grin. "Who's to say all those art appreciators aren't
doin' it wrong?"

I snorted laughter and tossed him the other bathrobe while I gathered his wet clothes in the basket. When the robe was tied around him and I was once again unable to see the remarkable body that lay beneath, I pushed the basket towards him.

"You stick those in the dryer, I'll worry about the coffee."

He gave me a quick mock salute and took the basket, heading back towards the laundry room.

As I made the coffee, I couldn't help but smile about the little life I'd built for myself here in Dublin. It was such a strange thing. This place with all of its grandmotherly touches seemed to be perfectly emblematic of what I was managing to hold onto. Warm laundry and soft bathrobes were so far from the life that the Druids promised their members. Before I came along, I had to believe that Ronan was used to damp clothes and whisky for breakfast, most days out of the week. I'd been adamant in my refusal to live my life like that - at least for now - and he'd gone along with me on it.

"Ye're
too stubborn by half, Cat," he'd say to me when I'd refuse to give up things like soft slippers. For some reason, Ronan and the other Druids seemed to love all the things that made their lives less comfortable. I guess it's an image thing. Fluffy pink slippers don't strike fear into other gangs, and the mere mention that you were enjoying suburban domestic life could be a death sentence for guys like Ronan. I had to be happy that he allowed me my few pleasures and that he was willing to participate in them - so long as nobody knew different back at the clubhouse.

When the coffee was ready, I bought two steaming mugs out to where Ronan was sitting on the sofa. I was limping slightly with every step. My calf still stung from my new piece of body art, and the piece of plastic taped over it to keep it dry was uncomfortable to say the least. I set a mug down in front of Ronan on the table and sat beside him. He had
a familiar warmth to him, wherever he went. That was never more appreciated than it was during the rain. I could always count on sitting next to him and feeling better. Without a word, he put his arm around me and held me against his body. I never had to hint at things like that - he just knew how to take care of me.

For a while, we sat together drinking our coffee and listening to the rain. There was no television in the house and turning on the radio seemed a bit old-timey even for me. Distractions like that aren't important when you're with the one you love, anyway. I didn't need anything to pull my attention away from Ronan. I don't think such a thing would be possible, anyway. With the coffee warming from the inside and his powerful arm holding me close, I was feeling more comfortable by the moment. I didn't even notice the way my leg itched after a few minutes.

"Are ye happy with the new ink, then?" he asked. He was stroking my hair with his fingers and it took me a long moment to break out of my comfortable quiet place even enough to speak.

"Very happy.
Thank you for talking me into it," I told him with a small smile.

He bent his neck down to kiss me and I leaned up to receive it. His kisses were always touched with heat. That same heat that kept me warm on the back of his bike on a cool Irish night seemed to flow from him when he touched his lips to mine. At first I thought I was imagining it - that it was just the excitement of the moment that made me feel warm and flushed, but after two months of his attentions I was certain of it now. My mouth watered and I kissed him back intensely, setting my coffee mug down on the table blindly as I did so. I wouldn't need caffeine to stay awake now that I had him.

He put his other arm around me and pulled me to face him squarely. Our lips continued to press together desperately. It had only been a couple hours since we'd last kissed like this but it felt like an eternity. I had a longing for Ronan that is hard to describe. Every morning, I woke up clutching for his body beside me, even when we weren't together. On the rare occasions when he had to go out of town for a few days on club business, I had trouble sleeping. Ronan felt like the other half of
myself
that I'd been searching for all my life. I knew that he felt the same thing about me, and he showed it in the gentle way he had of touching me.

Ronan's manner was rarely gentle except when we were together. I'd seen the way he acted around his brothers from the Druids and "gentle" was about as far from that as you can get. In his life, the chance for a little tenderness must have been sorely lacking and I was glad to give him an outlet for it. I knew that he had been with plenty of woman before me, but I had to imagine that I was giving him something they'd never been able to give. I was letting him show a side of himself that was softer without losing the edge - the fire - that made him who he was.

He pulled aside the neck of my robe and kissed along my shoulder. My whole body shivered at the feeling of his soft lips against my skin.
The chill that lingered in my bones from the long, wet ride was quickly vanishing under his attentions. I gave myself over to him and shrugged out of the robe, which fell to my waist, revealing me to him. I had no desire to play hard to get with Ronan. He knew that I was already his, and I wasn't going to stand in the way. I wanted him to see me and to touch me. Giving
myself
to him was so powerful because, I knew, he gave himself just as fully to me in return.

He pushed his hand against my breast and kissed along my collarbone. I threw my head back and let him in. He danced his lips along my chest while his warm, powerful hands brushed against my breasts. I could feel the incredible effect his touch had on my nipples immediately, and he could see it as well. He bent down further and took one nipple into his mouth, nibbling at it and sucking briefly. I let out a soft moan, knowing it would be the first of many pleasures I would feel that evening. His warm lips were pure magic on my most delicate parts, and he knew just how to make me squirm. Ronan seemed to have boundless energy for making me feel just right. I never had to worry about him taking his pleasure from me and leaving me wanting - it was never over until he knew I'd gotten everything I desired.

At that moment, there was nothing I desired more than to get my hands on his body as he had his on mine. I slipped my fingers beneath his robe and pulled it away from him. His muscles were hard and soft all at once, and I could feel the way they tensed up beneath my touch as I ran my fingers across them. I traced the letters across his chest with one finger as I had done so many times before. When he couldn't take it anymore, he pushed himself forward and my hands went around his back as he kissed me full on the lips once again.

We tumbled against the sofa with him on top of me, alternately kissing and grinning at me. In our new position, I could feel just how excited he was at the prospect of another fun night on my grandmother's sofa. Against my thigh I could feel the thickness of his member pressing through the cloth of our robes. I wanted to stretch our time together here out as long as I could and I kept my hands moving across his back as he pushed himself against me.

Our bodies seemed to fit together perfectly, just as they always did. Every curve and contour of my body was perfectly complemented by his hard muscles and soft kisses. He slipped his hands down along my back and I lifted myself slightly off the sofa so he could get hold of my robe, which he ungracefully yanked out from beneath me and dropped onto the floor. His hands went to my ass, pulling himself towards me. I knew that Ronan loved every part of me, but I couldn't help but feel that he had a particular affection for my rear. He loved to pull me close by it and I was more than
happy to let him. All of the attention he paid to the parts of me that were most feminine seemed to perfectly echo the way our bodies complemented one another. His powerful fingers traced across my hips and I shivered with anticipation.

He sat upright for just a moment, untying his robe and casting it aside just as he had done to mine. He was kneeling before me now on the sofa, were I was sprawled out on my back. My eyes searched down his body from his fierce blue eyes to the tattoo on his chest, across his tight abs and finally to the massive cock that hung so powerfully between his legs. It jutted out at me like a spur of rock, daring me to resist it. I had no such desire with me though, and I reached out for it instead, hungry to fill the smooth skin and the remarkable hardness that lurked beneath it.

I stroked his cock towards me and he remained kneeling, unmoving. He smiled at me, closing his eyes and enjoying the way my hands slid along his shaft. With every passing moment he seemed to grow harder and thicker beneath my fingers. My tugs and caresses became more forceful and he
couldn't resist any longer. He
leaned down and put one hand beside me on the sofa and the other held him aloft for the moment. I took hold of his manhood and guided him towards the wetness between my legs. The moment just before he entered me was always hanging full of promise and power. I spread my legs wide, desperate to feel the way he would fill me up and how he would show me how much he wanted me.

I rubbed the head of his cock against me for just a moment, soaking the head of it in the juices that were already flowing from me.
I couldn't wait a second longer and pulled him closer. He obliged and pushed his hips forward, his cock slipping between my lips and into me. I released him from my grasp and let out a loud moan as I felt him push inside me for the first time that night. It had been less than a day, but I was hungry for the powerful feelings of lust that he could produce in me with little effort of his own. Of course, when he chose to make a stronger effort, the effects were nothing short of incredible. As he smiled down at me and I saw the twinkle in his blue eyes, I knew that tonight would be one of those nights.

He began to thrust himself inside of me with slow, full strokes, letting me get used to the thickness of him once again. It always took a minute before I was fully comfortable with the girth of his remarkable manhood.
He knew that and started slow, letting the strength within his body rest for a time before exerting itself more fully. I wrapped my legs around his and urged myself forward, lifting my ass off the sofa to meet his thrust. Our bodies pressed together and I could feel the way my hardened nipples brushed against his broad chest, exciting me even further.

He began to pick up speed, pushing into me again and again. With every thrust, I was even more
his
than I was before. I felt the way his cock stretched me and penetrated me and I wanted
him to continue forever, filling me with pleasure in a way that I'd never known before I met him. Ronan had more going for him than just his stunning physique and his impressive manhood. He had shown me skill in sexual matters that I'd scarcely believe possible before we were together. The way he moved his body against mine pulled and tugged at me in just the right ways. He was able to communicate his own desperate longing for my embrace more aptly with his movements than any great poet of Ireland could with words. As much as the man who'd decorated my leg just a short while before, Ronan was an artist. Tonight I was both his muse and his canvas, allowing myself to be moved and formed just as he needed so that he could capture the greatest pleasure from my body.

Already I could feel the incredible pleasure building within me. I didn't resist it for a moment, instead letting myself be consumed by the lustful feelings and desire to be taken by him.
I concentrated on the pressure of his body against mine and the thoughts of how his rigid cock was pushing repeatedly inside me. I thought of the animal lust that
was possessing
him. I thought of these things and I screamed out his name.

"Oh god, Ronan!
Oh fuck! I'm
gonna - oh
fuck
- oh god I'm coming so hard!
Ahhh!"

I pushed myself against him, gripping his legs with my own. I constricted tightly around his cock as the pleasure overwhelmed me. When I tightened around his shaft, I could feel every inch of him penetrating me deeply. He groaned softly and breathed hard into my neck.