The Irish Lover (6 page)

She forced her lips into a straight line, but
the smile was still there in her eyes. Laughing a little at herself
she turned off the light before opening the door and tiptoeing back
to the bed. Michael had thrown the covers off and his bare chest
gleamed in the moonlight that spilled in the window.

“I thought you’d run off,” Michael grumbled
sleepily as Mary climbed in beside him.

She slid against his warmth, comfortable with
him in a way she hadn’t been with other lovers, even those she’d
been with for months.

“Run off? Hardly. I’m hoping to get some more
out of you.”

His teeth shone in the darkness as he smiled.
“Enjoyed yourself, did you?”

“Fishing for compliments?”

“Ah well, a man needs to know he pleased his
woman.”

She wanted to roll her eyes at the “his woman”
comment, but it sent a little thrill through her.

“Your woman?” She stroked his arm as he draped
it over her torso. “And how did a guy from a little Irish village
end up being such a good lover anyway?”

“You wouldn’t want me to tell tales out of
school.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

“No, but I might send those other women
flowers.”

At that he laughed, a warm, deep chuckle.
Mary’s lips twitched in response and she kissed his
shoulder.

The arm across her chest moved and his hand
cupped her breast, fingers gently rolling her nipple.

“Michael,” she whispered, not sure if it was a
protest or a plea. Despite being well and thoroughly satisfied only
hours earlier, she was instantly aroused by his touch.

“Yes, pretty Mary?”

Rather than answer with words she parted her
legs a bit. Michael propped himself up on one elbow to suckle her
breast while his hand moved down her belly to her sex. When his
fingers slid between her pussy lips she closed her thighs on his
hand, holding him still against her.

“Ah now, how can I pleasure you like
that?”

Throwing his leg over one of hers he pulled his
hand free from the apex of her thighs and pushed her other leg
away, forcing them to part. Demanding access to her most intimate
place. That rough handling was replaced by gentler, more seductive
touches as fingers danced up and down the seam of her sex and he
whispered against her breast, telling her how beautiful she was,
how much he wanted her.

Two fingers pressed into her as Michael lifted
his head and took her lips in a kiss. His tongue entered her mouth
in mimicry of his fingers thrusting into her sex. Mary lifted her
arms, curling them around his neck but he broke the kiss to say,
“No, put you hands on the pillow, above your head. I want to
pleasure you without distractions.”

Licking her lips she did as he said, her sex
clenching around him in arousal from the command.

“I want you to stay like that.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Well then I’d have to do something to punish
you, wouldn’t I?” He withdrew his hand from her sex.

Mary arched her hips, not wanting to lose that
contact, that pleasure. “I’ll be good,” she gasped.

“You’ll be more than good.”

Once more he kissed her, fingers returning to
their place buried deep within her. His hand shifted as he curled
his fingers, increasing the pressure. He started thrusting with his
hand in that position and Mary had to bite back a scream as his
fingertips rubbed her g-spot.

That was what she assumed it was, the throbbing
pleasure deep within her. No one had ever touched her there,
pleasured her that way before.

“Can you come from just this?”

“I...I don’t know. I don’t think
so.”

“Oh I think you will, pretty Mary.” Lips
plucked at her nipple before teeth gently tugged the tight
bud.

Each small thrust of his hand rubbed his curled
fingers over the sensitive flesh deep inside her as his mouth
tormented her nipples. The pressure within her built until she was
desperate for a release. She hovered there, on the edge of
something wonderful.

“Michael, please, I’m so close,” she
gasped.

He raised his head, meeting her gaze. His hand
withdrew and then he was kneeling between her legs, his cock
brushing her clit as he positioned himself at the entrance to her
body.

He thrust in and Mary came. The filling
pressure of his cock was all she needed to release the coiled
tension within her. Wrapping her arms around Michael, she clung to
him, biting his shoulder to stifle her screams of pleasure. As her
orgasm faded he thrust hard and fast, until he too came, his
panting breath loud in her ear.

When they were done Michael rolled off
her.

Mary shifted, pointing her toes and stretching
her arms up to the headboard. Her stomach rumbled.

Pressing her hands over her belly Mary looked
at Michael.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“Must be.”

“It’s been a long time since we
ate.”

Mary felt alive and full of energy, despite the
fact that it was the middle of the night. “Let’s go find food.” She
rolled over the top of Michael—who grunted—to get out of bed. “Come
on.”

“Where is it you think we’ll get food at this
hour?”

“I don’t know.” Mary zipped into the bathroom.
When she came out she went to the dresser and grabbed the castle
map she’d been given at check in. “I think they said something
about snacks or refreshments in one of these rooms.”

Michael groaned and rolled over, showing no
indication in joining in her middle-of-the night
adventure.

Rather than being put off, Mary slapped him on
the butt.

Propping himself up on one elbow Michael looked
at her. “Are you always this feisty at four A.M.?”

“Only after really great sex,” she assured him.
“Are you coming with me?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t let you go out
alone.”

There it was again, that little thrill. When
they were both dressed Mary took Michael’s hand and dragged him out
into the hall. As in any hotel the lights were on, making it hard
to tell day from night, except that this hotel hallway ended in a
stone wall, set with a narrow window. The sky outside was deep blue
and studded with stars.

“I can’t believe I’m wandering Glenncailty at
night. Don’t ever tell my mother that we did this.” Michael yawned
as they closed the door.

“Tell your mom you lied about going to Dublin
and instead came here to have mind-blowing sex with me? I wasn’t
planning on it.”

“Ah, well, don’t tell her that either, but I
was going to say don’t tell her that we’re wandering around
Glenncailty Castle at night. When I was young the castle was
forbidden ground.”

“Why?”

“It was falling apart. A girl from a nearby
town fell through the floor and died while I was away at
Trinity.”

“Oh my God.” Mary stopped on the stairs and
looked at Michael. “That’s terrible.”

“It was, God rest her. And it’s also
haunted.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “Really?
Haunted?”

“Now Mary Callahan, despite the accent, you’re
Irish and you should know better than to dismiss
ghosts.”

Mary flashed back to that moment the night
before, when she thought she’d seen something in the corner of her
room, but shook her head. They stopped in the glass hallway that
connected the east and main wings, looking up at the field of stars
above them. Mary rested her head on Michael’s shoulder.

“It’s beautiful here.” The night was still and
cold above them, but Michael was warm and strong at her
back.

“It is. The sky in Ireland, both day and night,
is like nothing else.”

“I wish my grandparents had come.”

“Why didn’t they?”

“They said it’s because they didn’t want to
travel, but they fly all the time to go on cruises. I think it’s
hard for them, remembering my parents.”

“This is your home, and theirs, if they want
it. If you want it.”

Mary took a breath, a bit of her giddy mood
fading at his serious words. “I think I’m starting to understand
that.”

The foyer had a few lights on, though there was
no one there. A sign with an emergency number sat on the
registration desk. Following the map they went through the hallway
on the opposite side of the foyer. They found the formal front room
indicated on the map, but it was sadly devoid of snacks.

“We could go play snooker,” Michael
said.

“Play what?”

They went to the Billiard Room where Mary
showed off her skill with a pool cue. It would have been better if
it had been an actual pool table, instead of a snooker table which
was larger and had rails—cushions as they were—and twenty-two balls
in addition to the smooth white cue ball.

After the tenth time she’d bumped him while he
was trying to make his shot Michael lay down his cue and grabbed
her.

“Sorry, sorry,” she laughed.

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Still hungry?”

She shrugged. “We can get breakfast in the
morning room starting in a few hours. I can wait.”

“In Chicago, can you go out and get food any
time?”

“Of course.”

“Well, we have that in Dublin.”

There was a hesitation in his voice she hadn’t
heard before. Mary licked her lip, wondering where this was going.
“I liked Dublin.”

“I’d like to show you around—not the tourist
places, but real Dublin. I think you’d love it.”

“I...I’m sure I would.” Mary was having trouble
breathing. Was he implying what she thought he was, or was she so
in-lust with him that she was hearing things that weren’t
there?

Michael rubbed the back of his neck, a line
between his brows. Trying to get away from the serious direction
their conversation had taken, Mary busied herself putting away the
snooker equipment. “So we’ll eat in a couple of hours.”

As she bent to slide the tray of balls into the
slot on the underside of the table Michael ran his hand over her
ass. “I can think of something to do until then.”

“Oh really?” She straightened and faced him,
twining her arms around his neck. “What’s that?”

Michael regarded her solemnly. “We should go
get books about gardening and read them.”

“Of course.” Mary matched his tone. “My Irish
flora knowledge is sadly lacking.”

“Or we could do this.” He kissed her until Mary
was ready to lie back on the snooker table and have him fuck her on
the green baize. Michael must have felt the same because he pulled
away, grinning at her. “We should go.”

“Mmmhmm.”

Together they started back the way they came.
For a moment Mary thought she heard something. Stopping, she looked
back at the door they hadn’t gone through at the far end of the
hall. A small plaque on it said “West Wing” and below that a range
of room numbers. It sounded like there was someone on the other
side of the door.

“I think we woke someone up,” she whispered,
suddenly uneasy, and urged Michael on.

As they crossed the foyer something caught her
eye. Mary again turned, this time looking at the grand main
staircase. The sweeping double staircase was dark wood. The second
and third floors of this building were—according to her map—still
under renovation.

“Michael did you see something?”

He stopped, muscles in his arm hard and tense
under her fingers. “Where?”

“There, at the top of the stairs. I thought I
saw...”

Mary blinked but there was nothing
there.

“Mary?”

“Must have been my imagination.” She turned to
Michael, a smile on her face, but he was white as a sheet…as if
he’d just seen a ghost.

Michael had never understood the phrase frozen
with horror until that moment.

At the top of the stairs was the outline of a
figure. The apparition seemed to be made of nothing more than
smoke, and waved as if in a breeze.

Mary’s touched his cheek. “Michael?” Mary
looked over her shoulder, following the direction of his gaze, but
she didn’t react to the gray-mist figure coming towards
them.

“Michael what’s wrong?”

He found his voice, struggling to remain calm.
Thirty seconds must have passed, but the thing was still there, and
it was definitely heading toward them. “Nothing, except one of
Glenncailty’s ghosts wants to meet you. I’m thinking we should go
now.”

“A ghost? Really?” She looked both hopeful and
skeptical. She turned to the stairs again, and this time she froze,
her fingers clamping down around his. “Michael, there’s a
ghost!”

He said simply, “Run.”

They bolted across the floor towards the heavy
front doors. He shoved at them, but they were locked.