Page 22 of Forever Flames: Padraig & Stevie
“Where do you think? Drunk.” I gesture upstairs. “Locked in his room. Passed out. We haven’t heard anything since—”
“I’ll kill him myself.” Connor starts toward the stairs.
“You won’t.” Ma grabs his wrist. “You’ll go to jail.”
“We need to do something,” he roars.
“We will.” She shuts her eyes, defeated. “Right now, I’m cleaning my son up and then making dinner. The kids need toeat. Then the four of us will talk.” She turns back to Liam. “Sit at the table. I’ll get the first-aid kit.”
Liam hesitates.
“Go.” She motions across the room.
Twenty minutes later, we eat microwaved shepherd’s pie in silence. No one says what we’re all thinking.
We didn’t think it could get worse.
Now we know better.
six
Stevie
One Year Later
FamilyweekendatWazzu.
It’s been a long-ass time sleeping apart.
Three whole nights.
Padraig locks the door behind him and I’m already pulling off my sweatshirt.
Sleeping without him shouldn’t feel so dire, but it sucked. As much as I loved having my family here, we’re alone. Finally. He doesn’t speak as he scans me from head to toe. Lashes low over heavy-lidded eyes.
He crosses the room in four steps and I’m in his arms.
His momentum propels us backward. My legs hit the edge of the bed as he grabs my face and his mouth crushes mine. There’s nothing careful here. His tongue pushes deep. Tasting. Claiming. Drinking from me like I’m the only thing to quench his thirst.
I unzip his jeans and tug his cock free. It’s thick and flushed when I wrap my fingers around the base and lick its head—slow and filthy—and Padraig’s breath hitches.
“Did you miss this?” I lick along his shaft.
He doesn’t answer. He can’t.
I suck him deep. Take him down to where my throat tightens. His fingers tangle in my hair. I twist my wrist and slide my lips over him again and again. He tastes like salt and sweat and every aching second of the weekend we spent apart.
“Fuck, Stevie,” he groans. “You’re gonna make me come too fast.”
I moan around him. Hollow my cheeks. He pulls out of my mouth with a hiss. His cock, covered in my saliva, bobs against his stomach.
“Get up,” he rasps.
Before I can move, Padraig lifts me like I weigh nothing. I squeal, laughing and breathless as he tosses me on my back. His thumbs hook the waistband of my leggings and he strips them down my legs, taking my panties along for the ride.
Leaving me bare. Open. Dripping wet for him.
Padraig doesn’t waste time. He kisses down my stomach and kneels at the edge of the bed. Something catches his eye—a navy-blue satin belt from my bathrobe which I tossed on the desk earlier.
