Page 37 of Kissin Irish by Morgan
Shaking my head, I asked, “Is Irish in one of these rooms?”
“Yeah, he’s in mine. But not at the present. He’s in the gym.”
“Thanks.” I turned to leave.
“You know your brother really did a number on him. Probably gave him a concussion. Pretty dirty if you ask me since they’re fixing to fight.”
I stopped on the first stair. “I heard. And has Charlotte been up here?”
“Nah. Irish had that bitch banned from Royal Road.”
Well, that certainly changed things.
Practically bounding down the stairs, I passed Sweet Tea again as she was heading out. Her shift ended at twelve thirty.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry, sugar pie.” She took my hands into hers, rubbing them as she often did. Her long nails tickled my wrists.
I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.
“You’re going to find that ginger fella, aren’t you? Hell, it must be spring. White folks are humpin’ like rabbits. Here, darlin’.” I heard a crinkle. She dug in her purse before placing a small package in my hand. Running it through my fingers, I felt the circular outline of a condom. “You don’t want to end up like poor Kara.”
Unfolding my cane again, I said, “Thanks.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I know she was your brother’s girl.”
“It’s no problem,” I called to her as I went through the club. I wouldn’t let Sweet Tea’s gossip of my brother’s drama bring me down. Hiding the condom in my pocket, I planned to put it to good use once I found Irish.
When I reached the gym, it was completely silent. But I could hear the water rushing next door. I went into the locker room to the showers.
“Irish,” I shouted.
“Cece,” he called back. “I’ll be out in a minute. I’m finishing up.”
I wasted no time undressing. Stripping down nude, I made sure to grab the rubber from my short’s pocket. Knowing my way around the locker room pretty well, I stepped behind the wall easily, into the spray with Irish.
“Cece,” he said my name again, but in a hushed tone, that said he was surprised and pleased.
Irish seized my waist and forced me against the slick tiled walls. Wet and naked against me, his hard body felt amazing covering mine. The hot water rained down on us. The steam rose making it hard to breathe. Crashing onto my lips, Irish kissed me with a fever. With more passion than any time before. Water from the shower trickled between our twisting tongues, but it was Irish who drowned me. Weak, I felt like I might wash down the drain.
In haste, he steered my legs up and around him like the night he’d ambushed me in this very room. Feeling his cock butt against my naked bits, I pushed the condom that was still in my hand into his chest. His hands left my ass. He held me with his hips, left me to lean back on the wall as he retrieved it. The sound of the package tearing open enthralled me.
“This is really happening?”
“Aye,” he said simply in his gorgeous accent.
Before I knew it. Irish had rolled on the rubber and found my entrance. His cock waited, rocking against my clit.
I waited with bated breath. What was he waiting for?
“My acushla,” he sighed as he took my hands up away from his shoulders. He held my arms way above my head. Holding my hands, he thrusted up, stabbing his cock deep into my core. Irish filled me full and then some. So much so my stomach ached with a yearning only he could quell. Reveling in the sensation, I called out his name.
Irish quieted me, covering my mouth with his.
Fulfill me he did as he worked my butt into the tile. He bucked his hips beneath me, drilling his dick deeper and deeper until I rode him like a bronco. My arms came down to clutch his muscular back. I had to hold on or fall off the horse. Irish’s lips left mine and his breath puffed in my ear. His hands held my hips. It was like, we’d ridden to the top of the mountain. And now we were going down. A wild descent awaited us. The ride became faster, more erratic. Dangerous as we hurdled uncontrollably to the bottom.
Then suddenly we reached it. The bottom of the mountain. Abruptly, Irish galloped to a finish, slow and full of purpose, grunting into my ear. I cried out as I crossed the finish line. He shuttered beneath me. It was a photo finish.
Irish set me down on wobbly legs. We showered off like zombies. Once I was dressed, Irish brought me back into his hold. I laid my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
