The Irish Lover
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

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