Northern Sons (3 page)

"Oh god I want you to come so bad," I told him loudly. "Fuck me hard, I want to feel your huge cock inside me. Come in me, I want to feel it!"

He stared into my eyes, his hips pounding against me and his cock pushing deep into me. His lips were slightly open and I could hear how hard he was breathing. He whispered my name softly over and over as he stared intently at me. I opened myself further to him and squeezed myself tight around his cock. He groaned more loudly and his pace became erratic, losing all sense of rhythm. In its place was only the fierce animal lust that propelled him forward. Our bodies felt as one as he came. His manhood exploded deep inside me, and I felt the warm rush of him filling me up. His thrusts continued for long moments afterward, as if he was unable to take even a moment away from the powerful lust that had brought him to this point. We both moaned and I screamed with pleasure. The transition to softer movement and slower, quieter breathing was so subtle that I didn't even notice it happening.

He laid
atop me, still inside of me, and kissed at my neck once again. The softness in him was returned, after having vanished during the primal lovemaking. His powerful hands were once again the source of soft caresses and smooth movements. Being with Ronan was like listening to complex
music. There were always those loud, exciting moments, but you were carried between them by soft, sweeping gestures. Without either, the other was meaningless. Together, they produced music that had enchanted me completely.

We laid together for a while before the discomfort of the old sofa began to get to us. I pushed Ronan off of me with a laugh and a smile and he cheerfully hit the floor with a loud thud. I rolled over to look down at him, still amazed at my good fortune at finding myself with a man like this. He was so rugged and sometimes morose, but I felt like the way I could break through that rough exterior proved that we were meant for one another. He raised his hand up to me as though he were escorting me across a puddle with his coat thrown charitably over it to keep my feet dry.

"Will m'lady join me on the floor?" he asked with a wide grin.

I laughed again and slapped his hand away, before standing and giving him a haughty look and another small giggle. I gave him a little shake of my rear end before I headed to the bathroom, leaving him there to watch me from the carpet. I turned on the shower and looked myself over in the mirror while I waited for the old pipes to do their magic. Though I looked the same as I had back in Baltimore, I still felt like I was looking at a different person. I was so far from where I started that it was hard to recognize the common threads between my old life and my new life. Back home I'd had trouble finding a date who could keep my attention for more than a minute. Now I was here with Ronan, and
my attention hardly seemed to waver from him.

My resolve to not sell my grandmother's house was born partly from wanting to keep myself grounded, but I have to admit that part of what was keeping me from selling it was simply not having the time to deal with the bank, the realtor and all the other things that go into that process. Every day I woke up and thought about what I wanted to do with my day, and inevitably the answer was that I wanted to spend it riding around Dublin, drinking at the pub or just casually sitting around the clubhouse listening to the stories of my new adopted family.
Talking business just seemed like something the old Cat would have done. The new Cat had more important concerns - like living life to the fullest.

I hopped in the shower, eager to clean myself up after a night of soaking rain and a flurry of lovemaking with Ronan. I'd only gotten a couple minutes beneath the hot water to myself before the man of my life joined me. He pulled aside the shower curtain just slightly and I had to wipe the shampoo from my eyes to see him smile at me.

"Room for one more in there?" he asked.

"Gee, I'm not sure, it's a
very
small shower," I told him teasingly.

"Well, we'll just have to make do, I suppose," he said before he pushed has way in. He wasted no time and got his hands on me immediately. The way he had of touching my body was different from any man I'd ever known. When he looked at me, it seemed like he was trying to memorize every curve. It reminded me of the way he rode his bike. He was constantly scanning the road, preparing himself for whatever was ahead with only seconds to make decisions about which way to turn. He touched me with that same attention to detail and quick thinking. I never knew where his hands would go next, but I knew that I would love the results.

We somehow managed to get around to actually cleaning ourselves, and then stepped out into the chilly bathroom. He'd brought our bathrobes in from the living room and I quickly slipped into mine to hold in as much of my post-shower warmth as possible. It had been a long, exhausting day, even if the results had been wholly positive. I walked towards the bedroom with Ronan following behind me.

I slipped off my robe and got quickly under the thick, warm quilts that my large bed was covered with. This room, like all the others, was at a great contrast to the life of motorcycles and cheap beer that I lived for most of the hours of my day. In here there was only warmth, comfort and nostalgia. Ronan got into bed beside me and I barely had time to snuggle up against him before sleep began to take me. I could tell he was tired as well, and without a word between us, we fell into a deep slumber in one another's arms.

The next morning I woke up to find Ronan was already awake and getting dressed. I glanced at the clock on the nightstand and saw that it was only a few minutes after sunrise. I dropped my head back to the pillow and groaned at Ronan.

"What's got you up so early?" I asked him, slurring my words as I spoke.

"Some boys from up north are coming in today," he said, "I need to run a small errand, then I'll be back to pick you up and we can head to the clubhouse together, alright?"

"Sure, okay," I responded, not really listening to more words than "pick you up later".

Ronan came over to the side of the bed and planted a tender kiss on my cheek.

"Sleep well, my sweet, I'll be back soon," he said sweetly. It still astounds me that the gentleness in his voice could ever be hidden. When he let it out, I felt like he was singing me a ballad with every second. There was music in his voice, but he saved it all for me.

I fell back into sleep before he'd even left the room.
My dreams were of the first night we spent together. I suppose I'll be dreaming of that meadow soaked with morning dew for the rest of
my life. The words "picturesque" and "perfect" hardly do justice to the feelings I have for the
morning we had together beneath that tree and for the ways in which my life changed forever after.

I woke up to the sound of Ronan entering the room. He was rushing around between my dressers, opening and closing drawers.

"What's going on?" I asked him, sitting up suddenly.

"It's late! You've got to get dressed and we've got to get to the clubhouse. Terry and his boys will be there any minute!"

I jumped out of bed and tried to put my clothes on as quickly as possible. That ended up taking more time than if I'd spent the time to make sure everything wasn't inside out before hand and I could tell that Ronan was getting impatient. I was glad that he'd stopped back at the house to get me because he was in such a hurry, but I hated to disappoint him like this. I looked at the clock and saw that it was almost noon - I couldn't believe I'd slept as long as I had.

When I had something resembling a coherent outfit on, I grabbed my purse and we were running out the door. His bike was parked outside the house as expected and we jumped on quickly. No sooner had I put my arms around his body than we were flying down the street at top speed. The engine roared and here and there I could see people covering their ears as we passed by. I didn't know anything about the visitors from the north, having just heard about them that morning, but whoever they
were, Ronan thought they were important enough to break virtually every motorcycle traffic law on the books as we went.

I was becoming very familiar with the old road that led to the Druids clubhouse. It seemed like some days I was making the journey two or three times a day, always on the back of Ronan's bike.
At first I felt bad that he was shuttling me back and forth from home all the time, but I came to realize that he loved having me there. Whenever I clutched him close to me while we rode, I could feel the way his body relaxed rather than tensed up. It was as though he was more comfortable knowing that I was there behind him than he would be if I was off somewhere on my own.

We approached the familiar clubhouse and from the outside it appeared just the same as always - a large farmhouse with many motorcycles parked outside. As we got closer though, I noticed the difference. There were eight Druids in the Dublin chapter, each of them with his own bike. Today, however, there were more than a dozen parked outside, as well as a couple of fancy cars that I didn't recognize. Whoever "Terry and his boys" were, they'd come in force. I suddenly became uneasy at the whole situation. Clearly Ronan was now late for some kind of meeting because he had to pick me up at home. I prayed that he wouldn't hold it against me. I couldn't bear
the thought of some trouble with the club cropping up because of his commitment to our relationship. Every day I worried over whether I was the woman he really wanted in his life, and this was just the sort of thing that set the butterflies in my stomach churning away.

Ronan parked his bike at the end of the line and I hopped off.

"Sorry you're late. Who are these guys?" I asked him.

He shook his head. "It's alright, Cat," he said, "Some things can't be helped. They're Druids, but from Belfast."

I knew there were other chapters of the club across Ireland, but aside from the occasional solo visitor passing through town, I had yet to meet many. Ronan wasn't saying it, but I could tell that this meeting was important. I wondered if perhaps this Terry person was somehow his boss. I knew surprisingly little of the organization of
the club and its chapters. I had already learned
that Ronan's father had formed the club in the first place, but he rarely spoke about how things were set up now.

I checked myself over briefly in one of the mirrors of Ronan's bike. He had already started towards the front door and I had to hurry to catch up to him. Even before the door opened, I could hear loud shouting - mostly of a friendly sort, I thought - coming from inside. When we stepped into the clubhouse I saw why - it was packed to the rafters with bikers, old ladies and hangers-on. There were so many people seated around the room and at the bar that nobody seemed to notice us enter.

Aside from the familiar faces like Daisy and Garret, there were many that I didn't recognize. Some wore the cut of the Druids and some didn't. One of the men present looked for
all the
world like a young lawyer or something. He was wearing a sharp suit with a red tie. I might have expected someone looking like him to feel uncomfortable amongst these rough sorts, but he was laughing and cheering at some unheard joke along with all the rest. Whoever these northerners were, they looked like they knew how to have a good time.

Ronan and I stood in the entryway for a moment before someone finally noticed us standing there.

"Oi
, Ronan! 'Bout time ye showed up, wanker!" came the call from Garret, who was standing behind the bar. I'd gotten to know Garret relatively well over the past months. Ever since our first meeting, Daisy had done her best to act like a surrogate mother to me. She told me what I needed to know and gave me all the juiciest gossip about what was happening with the Druids. She and Garret
had been a couple as far back as anyone cared to remember, and that pretty much made Garret my surrogate father.

Usually a greeting like that brought a chorus of cheers to a happy room like this, but for some reason today it brought a cloak of silence with it. It was like all the air went out of the room all at once. All eyes turned to face us, and I felt very uncomfortably like the center of attention. Surprisingly, Ronan seemed to have a similar reaction. I was used to watching him be the center of attention - that comes with the territory when you're the leader of a motorcycle club - but today was different.
He started walking into the room with a nod to Garret, as if he knew ahead of time just what he was there for. I followed behind him, not sure of my place in all of this.

The crowd seemed to part before us, and I saw who we were walking towards. At the back of the room, with a group of strangers all around him, was an older man with thinning grey hair and a face that seemed like it had one too many
sunburns
over the years. He reminded me of the way Ronan's jacket looked after a hard ride on a hot day - cracked and weathered but still tough enough to hold together.

"Hello, Ronan," the older man said, "Nice of ye to make an appearance."

Ronan held his eyes steady on the man. The blue of his eyes seemed to shift subtly from day to day, and today they were the deepest I'd ever seen them. I could feel the intensity in his expression and I began to get scared about what sort of person could cause such a reaction from the man I knew and loved.

"Hello, Terry," he said, "Thanks for coming and drinking all of our whisky."

That line got a few quiet laughs from around the room, but you could still cut the tension with a knife. It seemed like everyone was waiting for something to be said, but only Terry and Ronan knew what it was.

"An' this must be your American bird," Terry said, raising his glass slightly in my direction, "Ye be sure this one don't steal your pants, now." I wasn't sure what he meant, but he got another few quiet laughs, mostly from the Belfast crew. Whatever the joke was, it seemed like Ronan was the butt of it.