Page 22 of Stolen Mafia Vows
The gleam in her eyes when she pulls Emily in for a hug confirms what I already knew: she is going to love her.
Released, Emily leans against my side, and I fold an arm around her, because this is where she belongs. I know it. Emily knows it. And I think Gran has already figured it out too.
“Emily, this is my gran, Orla.”
“Oh, no you don’t, young man.” Gran shakes her head. “You can call me Gran or nothing at all.”
“Gran.” Emily rolls the word around her tongue, sizing it up. “Thank you.”
“Are you hungry?” There’s a naughty glint in gran’s eyes. “The two of you look as if you could do with building up some energy.”
I suck in a sharp breath, but Emily giggles and pulls a seat out from under the huge pine table. “I’m starving.”
Gran makes sandwiches with thick slices of freshly baked bread filled with cream cheese, ham, and her homemade chutney, washed down with mugs of coffee and tall glasses of water. I hadn’t realized how ravenous I was until Gran placed the food in front of me.
She sits with us, making small talk about the horses and the beach and how I’m her favorite grandchild. “Don’t tell Ruairi I said so though.”
“I won’t,” Emily says between mouthfuls of doughy white bread.
Gran catches my eye. “Tá sí foirfe, Eoghan.”She is perfect. “Tá áthas orm duitse.”I am happy for you.
My hand finds Emily’s, and I squeeze it tightly. Gran’s approval means more to me than anyone else’s.
After we’ve eaten, Emily doesn’t suggest going home. So instead, we drive north along the coast and visit Mannin Bay in Connemara then stop off at a local pub where we sit in the garden under the shade of a huge umbrella until the sun starts to sink. Heading inside, we find a nook near a roaring log fire and chase the evening chill away with a homemade meal of traditional steak pie, mashed potatoes, and vegetables with lashings of thick gravy. While we talk, the pub fills up and starts to empty again. We order apple pie and warm custard for dessert and chase it down with glasses of ice-cold beer.
It’s easy to lose track of time with Emily. Neither of us look at our phones. Emily is on summer break from college, and after the recent meeting with Olivia Dragonetti, my father and Ruairi have been spending time with the family lawyer in Dublin. A meeting that clearly didn’t include me.
Emily’s eyes grow large when she catches sight of the clock on the wall behind the bar. “It’s getting late.” A glance at the window reveals that the sun has retreated to the other side of the world, and the stars are out in full force.
Still, we don’t move.
“They have rooms here,” I suggest.
Emily’s smile grows wide. “I thought you’d never ask.”
She texts Sienna to tell her that she’s spending a second night with me and then she switches her phoneoff.
It doesn’t matter where we are, but the corners of the four-poster bed add a whole new experience to fucking Emily when I bind her wrists to them using my shirt.
The next day we head east to Dublin. Neither of us packed a bag when we left home and, like an explorer who just discovered a rare species, I want to study Emily in other settings outside of the bedroom.
She soaks everything in. The old-fashioned pubs, the sleek, new office buildings, the people with their melodic accents, the street vendors selling everything from traditional Irish stew to freshly caught fish served with fat chips and mushy peas. Emily wants to see and try everything, and I’m proud to show her the places I used to visit with my mom when I was a child.
We wander in and out of boutiques, but Emily is impatient to get back outside and inhale all that Dublin has to offer. So, I choose a store, take her hand and lead her inside, and sit her down on a seat outside the fitting rooms while I choose clothes for her.
She eyes up the bundle of clothes in my arms when I return with a lopsided smile. “You want me to try them on?” When I nod, she adds, “We’ll be here all day.”
I shrug and shove them into her arms, guiding her onto her feet, and pointing her in the direction of the fitting room. “I’m in no rush.”
I watch her enter, and the store assistant looks away, a flush on her cheeks.
While I wait, I wander around the store, and another outfit snags my attention. A wide-legged pantsuit in a crinkly material, the shade of green that would make Emily’s eyes evenmore seductive than they already are. I can picture her wearing it when we find a cozy corner of a pub beside a log fire.
My pulse is racing when I head back to the fitting room, my mind having already moved on to stripping the pantsuit from Emily’s body to expose her naked breasts and tight pussy.
Fuck!I need to keep these mental images under control.
The assistant is occupied elsewhere, so I go straight to Emily’s cubicle and pull the curtain aside. She is naked apart from her lacy panties, and she turns around to face me, lips parted and moist.
