“BABY, IT’S FUCKING FREEZING in here,” O’Connell shouted to me, as I was having a shower. As much as we’d wanted to splurge on takeaway, O’Connell had to stock up on carbohydrates before a fight, so he’d offered to cook us up some pasta while I showered and changed into my pyjamas. He said it with his eyes firmly planted on my tits, so I was guessing he hoped that I would change into his favourite boy short pyjamas.
“I’ve turned the heating on. If it’s not working, try giving the radiator a bang,” I called back.
I was rinsing the conditioner out of my hair and relishing the piping hot water, when I heard his voice next to my ear.
“What was that, baby?” he asked and I screamed, trying to cover up as much as I could with my hands despite being behind an opaque shower screen.
“What are you doing in here? Get out!” I ordered, and he only chuckled.
“Relax, baby. I just couldn’t hear what you said,” he replied, and I could hear the amusement in his voice.
“I said, bang the radiator to get it going. Now, GET OUT!” I ordered.
“I’m not sure,” he teased, “this is the warmest room in the apartment. Surely, you wouldn’t let me freeze out there when it’s so warm in here. It’s not like I can see anything.”
No one had ever seen me naked before and there was no way that this cheeky fucker was getting an invitation. It didn’t surprise me that he walked around like he owned the place. He appeared to be railroading my decision that we remain friends and part of that was stomping around my place and sharing my bathroom, like I suspected a boyfriend might. I rushed through the rest of my shower, not enjoying it anymore now that I was worried about him coming in again and embarrassing me. I towel dried my crazy mop of hair as best I could then changed into my favourite pyjamas, which, fortunately, covered most of my body. The flat did seem cold as I walked out of the steam-filled bathroom.
“I can’t believe you did that!” I complained, as I hunted around for one of O’Connell’s hoodies. He stood right in front of me and rested both hands on the desk behind me, trapping me against his body. He dipped his head to the crook of my neck and inhaled as he smelt my newly washed hair.
“What are you embarrassed about, baby?” he murmured. His warm breath against my neck sent heat straight through my body, making me achy and wet. As though he knew exactly how I felt, he pressed his rock hardness against me, which only made the ache worse. When he ground his pelvis, I moaned, and he captured my bottom lip between his teeth and nipped it. He ran his tongue over the bite to relieve the sting and ground against me again. I gripped his t-shirt in my hands, not sure if I was pulling him toward me or pushing him away. Letting go of the desk, he reached back and pulled his t-shirt over his head so that my hands were left resting on rock hard perfection. The sensation of feeling his cock pressed against my core, combined with unbelievably soft skin over steel abs beneath my fingertips, made me even wetter. When I moved against him, he hissed and pulled away from our kiss.
“Fuck, baby,” he muttered breathlessly. “Even in those God awful pyjamas, you are the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. I just want you to be more confident in your own body, okay?”
I nodded, though I didn’t think that I’d ever be comfortable with him looking over my naked body. Wanting to end the exquisite torture building inside me, I pulled his head toward me for more. Our kiss became almost violent, as he lifted me effortlessly to wrap my legs around his waist and carried me to bed. Laying us down, I cried out in delicious agony as his weight pressing against me had me arching off the bed. I was struggling to remember why I should be panicking about now, or maybe taking this a bit slower. This was O’Connell, and I was safe. He was making me feel amazing. So, how could it be anything but normal, to not want this to end? The first fluttering of panic only set in when his fingertips crept down inside my pyjama bottoms.
“What are you doing?” I whimpered.
“Trust me, sunshine.” He grinned against my lips. “I’ve got this.”
His huge fingertips brushed gently against my folds, and I almost came off the bed. O’Connell was a genius to take things as slow as he did. Any quicker and my panic would have ruined it. After that one touch, he lightly ran his calloused fingertips over the tops of my thighs and around the elastic of my pyjamas, anywhere but where I actually needed his touch. All the while, we kissed as though we were devouring each other, and the need grew worse with every stroke. He was as hard as a rock against my leg, but I could barely think about anything but what he was doing to me.
“Please, O’Connell,” I begged.
“What do you need, baby?” He smiled knowingly.
“Touch me again.”
His looked triumphant as he brushed against me gently with his thumb.
“Ahh,” I cried out, arching my back and gripping the sheets as I tried to process what he was doing. This time I’d given him permission. Hell, I’d begged him to keep going, and he didn’t disappoint. He stroked rhythmically, and I was torn between wanting to pull away from the overwhelming sensations and pleading with him never to stop. My nipples, hard as buds against his chest, sent darts of pleasure below as they brushed against him.
“I can’t. I can’t...,” I whimpered.
“Let go, baby,” O’Connell whispered. “I’ll catch you.”
My spine was a rod of steel and bright blinding stars burst across the back of my eyelids as I came. It was the most amazingly wonderful thing that I had ever experienced, and I wanted to cry out at the sheer joy of it.
O’Connell looked at me lovingly. I held his jaw reverently in one hand.
“Thank you,” I whispered to him. “That was so much more than I ever imagined it would be.”
He smiled brightly, and it was like the sun coming out.
“As long as I live, I will never forget how beautiful you look right now.”
He cuddled me into his side, but his hard cock wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.
“O’Connell?” I paused, not knowing how to say this without sounding like an idiot. “Can I do the same for you?”
I was mortified. Not so much at the thought of doing it. The idea of stroking him in my hand was enough to make me wet all over again. I was embarrassed, because I sounded so naively clueless. Any girl my age with a pinch of sexual confidence wouldn’t have asked permission, they would have just known exactly what to do. He didn’t answer me so I risked a glance up at him. His eyes were closed, and he looked like he was in pain.
“What’s wrong?” I asked concerned.
“I’m trying not to come in my pants,” he answered.
I was confused about why he wasn’t jumping on me for my help when I’d offered. When he seemed a bit more in control, he explained.
“I promised Danny no sex before the fight. It’s a golden rule for most of the boys. The banked up sexual frustration helps with the production of testosterone.”
We were both quiet as we wrestled with his promise.
“Fuck!” O’Connell cursed. “I can’t believe I just gave up a hand job from you for some miserable, skinny, angry old leprechaun.”
“That angry old leprechaun only has your best interests at heart. Besides, I’m not going anywhere. Consider the invitation your reward if you win your fight tomorrow.”
He closed his eyes again.
“What are you doing now?” I asked.
“Trying again to focus on not coming.”
AN HOUR LATER, we reheated our pasta and sat cross-legged on my bed enjoying it. My cold, shitty little apartment now felt warm and cosy, and I was so happy that I could burst. O’Connell had beaten the crap out of the radiator until frostbite was no longer a real threat. He’d lit a ton of candles, ostensibly because we needed all the heat that we could get, but it made the place seem more romantic than it looked in the harsh light of day. O’Connell, shirtless and sat on my bed, was absolutely drool worthy, even if he was practically inhaling his meal. As soon as he’d finished, he put the bowl to one side, and in a way that reminded me of a small child, he asked me what had been on his mind.
“Can I have my present now?”
I smiled as I always did when he sounded like a little boy.
“No. You’ll have to wait until I’ve finished my dinner,” I admonished.
“That’s not fair,” he whined comically, and if he’d been standing, I was sure he would have stomped his foot.
“You eat so slowly, we’ll be here for months!” He gave an over exaggerated sigh when he could see that I wasn’t going to relent.
“Are you going to eat any more?” he asked after a while. I looked down at the mountain of food that he’d dished up for me, which would be about two of my usual servings. I shook my head no and steadied myself as he bounced off the bed to clear the plates. He washed up the dishes as I dried, then turning off the heating, he climbed into bed beside me. It was all so domestic, and I loved it. I turned on my side to face him, and he did the same.
“Do you want your present now?” I asked.
“Do you want to give it to me?” he answered with a smirk.
“On second thought, it can wait until after your fight,” I told him with a straight face, calling his bluff.
“What! No! I didn’t mean it. Please, can I have it now?” I laughed because he really was just too cute.
“It’s not very big. Just a token gift,” I warned him, worried that I’d built this up into too big of a deal, or that he might not like it after all.
“I don’t care. I haven’t had a present in years.”
“What about your birthday?”
“Danny gives me a week off subs, and the boys buy me a pint,” he explained.
“That’s awful!” I exclaimed, horrified.
“We’re blokes.” He laughed. “What did you expect us to do?”
“What about your mum?” I asked.
“I don’t remember the last time she bought me anything. But, then, coming home to a night when she hadn’t passed out in a pool of her own puke was gift enough.”
I reached into the drawer of my bedside table and pulled out a box wrapped in brown paper and string. I placed it on the bed in front of him.
“Sorry. They were all out of ‘Good luck with your big fight’ wrapping paper at the shop.”
He didn’t say anything, which was completely out of character. There were no quips or cocky comebacks. He just stared at it. After a few minutes, he picked it up and pulled the bow on the string, then carefully opened the brown paper to reveal the jewellery box underneath. Still staring, he opened it up to find an intricately designed silver Celtic cross inside on a long silver chain.
“Do you like it?” I asked worriedly. “I had Father Patrick bless it when we went to church.”
He swallowed hard and when he looked up at me, his eyes were wet.
“You bought this for me?” he asked, and I nodded.
“Sunshine, you can’t afford this.”
“I’m getting by better with the extra money that I get from Danny, and I did a few extra shifts last month when I finished out my rota.”
He carried on just looking at it, and I started to get worried.
You don’t have to wear it or anything. I just wanted to get you something to say good luck and to let you know that I’m behind you.”
He launched himself off the bed and threw his arms around me, squeezing me hard.
“I fucking love it. Thank you, baby,” he replied.
I grinned, more than a little relieved.
“Father Patrick told me that the ring symbolises God’s eternal love and that the four parts of the cross mean different things to different people, but in your case he thinks they represent mind, body, heart, and soul. Every one of those parts needs to be ready before you fight, but God will be with you in all of them.”
“That sounds like something Father Pat would say. For me, it just reminds me of you.”
“I like that, too,” I admitted.
He stared at it some more before taking it out and handing it to me. I undid the clasp and secured it around his neck as I kissed him gently on the lips. He pulled me closer until I was straddling him then kissed me hard, touching his tongue against my own. Pulling away, he looked deep into my eyes and asked me to bear my soul.
“Will you tell me now, about your past?”
I nodded my head although my chest felt so tight it hurt to breathe. Would he see me differently after this? Would this make me unclean and repugnant to him? Unless I told him, I’d never know, but I would give a great deal right now to be without the burden of my past.
“My dad died when I was nine. He was the centre of my whole world. Then one day I went to school, and when I got home, he was gone. Another car skidded on some diesel on the motorway. The other driver lost control and smashed into Dad’s car, killing them both instantly. Less than a year later, my mum had met and married Frank,” I explained, climbing off O’Connell. I felt dirty just talking about it, and I didn’t want to pollute him by touching him as I let this poison seep out of me. Any warmth I’d felt before was gone, and I fought hard not to let my shaking become noticeable.
“The first time he hit me was for talking to a boy in my class when I took out the rubbish. Mum did absolutely nothing. I was a teenager by then, and I think he’d been beating her for a while. He was nothing like my father, so disapproving and controlling, even from the first time that I met him. After the first time he hit me, it was like he got a taste for it. He was never sorry after, either. In his sick head, he could justify every punch with a purpose, like he was doing me a favour taking over where my dad should have left off. I wanted to tell people so many times, but my mother never left the house. She was his hostage, and the reason he knew I would never open my mouth.”
The tears that I’d kept at bay for so long were running ugly down my face. I couldn’t look at O’Connell because if I saw even a fleeting expression of disgust, what was left inside that was still whole would fracture.
“I was angry that no one around me had worked out what was going on. He was very careful to keep my bruises where my clothes would hide them, but nobody questioned why I had suddenly become withdrawn and why I no longer had any friends. Everyone around us thought that Frank was our salvation. The loving family man doing his best to raise another man’s child. I guess they blamed my problems on grief or adolescence, but not one person ever asked me if I was okay.”
“What about your mum,” he croaked.
“I think something inside her died when Dad did. Frank must have given her something she needed, I guess, to marry him so quickly. She did my washing and cooked my meals, but in her head, I think she believed that I died when Dad did. When I took a beating, it gave her relief from being beaten herself. By the time I escaped, she’d become a zombie. She never looked at me or spoke to me, but she followed every order he ever gave her. Even when it was to leave me alone with him.”
I choked back a sob and without warning, he reached over and lifted me from the bed to sit in his lap. Yanking the covers, he cocooned them around us and held me so close to his chest that I could barely breathe.
“That’s enough now, baby. I shouldn’t have pushed you so far.”
“You needed to know. There’s more, but I’m afraid of how you’ll look at me when you hear everything.”
He held my face and tilted it until I looked up at him.
“What did I tell you before? Whatever happened before me changes nothing. You are and always will be the most fucking beautiful person that I’ve ever met, inside and out.”
“I’ve been scared for so long, O’Connell. With you is the safest that I’ve ever felt, but it won’t last. He’ll find me eventually, and I’m terrified that you’ll be caught in the crossfire when he does.”
O’Connell held me like he was never letting me go. Swallowing hard, it was almost like he was holding back tears of his own.
“What did I tell you I’d do if anyone tried to take you away from me?” he asked gruffly.
“Decimate them,” I whispered.
“Fucking decimate them,” he reiterated. “Let him come. It will save me the trouble of looking for him.”